Page 24 of Resolutions

Inside, I move quickly, afraid to find Michael holding Moses, leaning against my car when I reappear. I grab some food to replace what I gave the grandmother and another litter tray for Moses. As I zoom past the electronics department, a sign stops me cold - a display advertising prepaid phones for people hitting the open road.

My hand goes to my phone, my lifeline to Cameron. All our photos, our messages, my whole life is on my phone.

Tears start falling before I even register them forming. Fucking Michael. How dare he force me to even think about giving up my phone? My fucking life! The anger and grief pour out in huge, wracking sobs I can't control.

“Mommy, why is that lady crying?”

I turn to find a tiny redhead watching me from a shopping cart, all ringlets and concerned blue eyes. Just like Cameron's cousin's little girl.

We could have had one just like her... I wrap my arms around myself.

“Maybe she's having a bad day, sweetheart.” The mother gives me a gentle smile before leaning into me and whispering, “No one deserves to be treated badly. If you need help, there are people who can protect you.” She then nods at me, steps behind her cart, and heads down the aisle. The little girl looks around her mom and waves a shy wave. I wave back, trying to hold myself back from not busting out laughing.

If she only knew.

In my hotel room an hour later, Moses and I are settled in. He's checking out every corner and I've spread out like I'm cramming for finals with my laptop, notebooks, pens, Chinese takeout containers, and Diet Cokes. Plus, my original phone, I'm not yet ready to part with it. The internet is a goldmine of information about disappearing if you know what to search for.

I make a rule list for myself of recurring themes.

Rule one: protect yourself first. Get safe, then figure out the next steps.

Rule two: small landlords over big complexes. They do fewer background checks. And they keep an eye on things.

Rule three: avoid night activities. Harder to blend in when everyone else is being loud and social. Drunks draw attention.

Rule four: plain clothes, nothing memorable.

Rule five: if you think you're being followed, ditch your car for something forgettable.

That last one stops me cold. Michael found me at the motel through my credit card, which I'd stupidly used at Walmart too. I can see how he found those two spots. But I bolt up and start pacing. “He knew!” The words burst out. “He knew I went back to the hotel for my things!” Back and forth I stride, mind racing. “How? HOW?”

Moses watches from the bed, offering no insights. But the answer hits like lightning, my phone. My car. He must have trackers on both.

“That bastard,” I breathe out, pulling my laptop to the side of the bed. Googling confirms my suspicion that phones are pathetically easy to track. One downloaded program running in the background would do it. Car trackers can be almost impossible to see.

“Damn it!” My fist hits the table, making the Diet Coke wobble. Then his words from earlier replay in my head:

You are what they want...

I freeze mid-pace. “Who arethey?”

The horror builds as pieces click together and nausea rises. “He's not just tracking me. He's hunting me. For whoevertheyare.” I know I've known this, but saying it all together causes the realization to set in. I feel like part of the haze has parted. Michael wants to sell me to someone. He said it was business and that he never messes with money. I know that's true.

“Oh my God, what if the reason Michael had time for the chase is because an overseas buyer is coming to get me?”

Moses yawns and repositions himself, supremely unconcerned.

“Thanks for the help.” But my hands are already moving - I set up a new email. Downloading my pictures to the cloudunder that email. I'm sure my laptop must be compromised too. Michael's been in my house; he could have easily gotten to it. I can't take the chance. The thought that Michael might be in my house right now.

His words play in my head.Did naughty Cameron leave a mark when he fucked you in the shower?

“Oh my God!” Remembering the phrase Michael said booms in my mind. My paranoia feels completely justified now. “He has our house bugged. He's watched me change, watched us, together.” I have to take a seat on the room chair. “How long has he been watching?” I feel repulsed and violated. “The nun outfit.” I did a birthday striptease for Cameron dressed as a nun. I even let him tie me to the bed. “Oh my God, he saw. He watched. That fucking perverted bastard!” I stand and take a couple of steps. “Oh my God, Michael, how many women have you done this to?” I take a few more steps. “Have you taken other women?” I pace a few steps. “Is this what the warehouse is for? To move women you've taken?” I close my eyes and lean against the hotel room wall, forcing myself to breathe deeper breaths.

“We thought you were our friend. Sure, we women didn't like your sleazy ways.” As soon as the statement leaves my mouth, I start laughing. The more I think about it, the more I laugh. “Boy, were we wrong about you? You're not sleazy, you're disgusting.” I stop laughing. “You're a worthless piece of trash. I know you've taken other women. I can feel it. My journalistic training is telling me you have.” I start pacing again. “You've made money off others' suffering.” My stomach rolls. “Well, guess what, you bastard? I'm not going to do this. I'm not your profit. No! NO! You son of a bitch, I'm not for sale!”

I spring into action, time for a new phone, new laptop, new car. I'm not going down without a fight. I check the time and see Best Buy's open till nine. Perfect.

As I grab my purse and room key, thoughts run through my mind. How many other women has Michael hunted like this? How many have already disappeared?

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