Page 36 of The Tower

"I have no fucking idea!" I tell her, my voice rising to a level that visibly intimidates her. "It drives me insane, but believe me, I have no fucking clue how they found out. I thought I'd covered my tracks."

I know Tom's ears pricked up when I told him about that cabin in the redwood forest in Northern California. He probed, wanting to know where I'd gotten that info, and I gave him some half-assed explanation about some research I'd done.

I thought he bought it, and maybe he did.

But maybe he didn't. He obviously forwarded my info to the Covey, but what did he do afterward? Did he engage in some research of his own? How on earth did he find us?

"Can I trust you, Keane?" Fear laces her words; every syllable uttered with trembling lips as she tries to hold back tears. "Please, I need to be able to trust you."

"You can," I say. And it's the first time I'm convinced at my own words. "I won't let anything bad happen to you. I'd rather die."

A gasp escapes her pretty lips, and I can feel her eyes on me, trying to detect a lie behind my promise. But she won’t find one. I mean it, and she better fucking believe it.

"Where are we going?" she repeats her most pressing question.

"To a place up north," I answer vaguely. "To get you some new papers."

"New papers? Like… a new ID?"

"And a passport, yes."

"But... how? It can't be that simple. I mean, where would you even—"

"Libby, I'm a criminal," I interrupt her cute little rambling. "Don't forget that. I know how to get these things done. I've done it before."

"For yourself?" she asks. "Keane is not your actual name?"

"It is," I respond truthfully. "But I won't be using it in the future."

I pause, unsure whether I should tell her all this. I haven't shared this with anyone before because it would have ruined everything. But with Libby, it's different. She's not part of the Covey, she would never rat me out, and most importantly, she’s coming with me. She has become part of my exit plan, whether she wants to or not. It's the only way I can keep her safe.

"I have been preparing my way out for months," I say, finally willing to share my little tale with her. "I've been working for the Covey my entire adult life, and they don't just let you quit. You're theirs for as long as they want you. You don't get to decide. The only way out is death, or something close to it—disappearance. My plan was to finish the Abbott job and then get the hell out of there."

"That's why you had the cabin prepared?" She assumes correctly.

"Yes, it was going to be my first hideout spot right after the mission."

"And then what?"

I let out a little chuckle before replying. "You'll laugh, but my plan was to head over to the West Coast. Oregon, to be precise."

She turns to me, shaking her head as she laughs. "Get out! That can't be true!"

"I'm not bullshitting you, Libby. I was going to hide and start a new life very close to you."

She remains silent for a few moments, still shaking her head while her gaze wanders out the front windshield, locking on the street ahead.

"Is that still the plan?" she asks after a while.

I nod. "Yes, it is. For now."

"What about me? You said we're getting new papers for me... and then?"

"You're coming with me," I say, allowing no backtalk. "We'll drive out to Canada and catch a plane from Montreal. I need to get you as far away from the Covey as possible, and they'd never think to check Canadian airports. They're determined not to lose one of their own, but they'd never expect me to cross the border up north."

"Okay..." she says in a low voice, sounding surprised but not unhappy.

We spend most of the drive in silence. Libby drifts back to sleep after a while, knocked out from the painkillers I gave her before we left. For the entire week, she's taken a lot of naps throughout the day, exhausted from her morning routine and the strain that the healing process is putting on her body.

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