Page 152 of Switch!
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We spend the rest of the day planning. The next day too. I didn’t expect it to be so complicated. I figured I could use my power to possess the right people and unlock the necessary doors. Lucky for me, I have a moral compass, and his name is Jesse.
You need to think about the people who set Caleb free. They’ll lose their jobs, or worse, might get arrested and serve time of their own.
He’s right. We need to make it appear as though the guards have no choice, but with me controlling them, the situation isn’t entirely hopeless.
Trixie is next to raise a concern. “What happens once he’s free? I know we have a getaway plan, but where will Caleb go? He can’t stay in Cheyenne or even Wyoming.”
“Tacoma,” I say instantly. “We might have to drive him back, but once Caleb is there, I don’t think the FBI will be looking for him. He’s a juvenile offender, not a convicted felon. We’ll keep living our crazy lives, and if anyone catches us, I’ll possess them so we can escape.”
“A life on the run,” Trixie says, nodding musingly. “I can deal with that. I even know a guy who can get us fake IDs.”
I laugh. “Of course you do.”
We discuss it further, stopping to do research by watching news clips of juvenile escapees and what happened to them. I want to know how they were caught, and what they were charged with. All the cases we find involve serious crimes, such as armed robbery or murder. Beating up your mother’s boyfriend is pretty bad too, but it’s not the same as waving a gun around a convenience store, considering the circumstances.
We go over the plan again and again, tearing it apart to find weaknesses. This results in a heated argument or two, but by the time we’ve finally settled on a course of action, I‘m convinced it’s the best one.
I don’t visit Caleb the next day. Too risky. I have a different plan in mind. We’re standing outside our motel by the payphone next to the registration office. Trixie dials the number for the correctional facility. Then she puts on another performance.
“Hello there,” she says, sounding years older. “This is Cheryl Anderson, Travis’s mother. I was hoping to speak to him, but I’m having trouble with my cell phone. My neighbor loaned me hers. Could you please give him this number?”
She angles the phone so I can squeeze close to hear the response. The voice on the other end is gruff. “What’s your pin number?”
Easy. My mother always uses the same one. She often sent me to the store with her debit card or to the ATM to withdraw money. I hold up my fingers, flashing the correct numbers to Trixie.
“Three four four seven,” Trixie says.
The line is nerve-rackingly silent. Finally, the person on the other end speaks again. “Okay. Go ahead and give me the new number.”
Trixie reads it off the payphone. Then she adds, “Could you have him call me within the next half hour? I won’t have this phone longer than that.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
The line goes dead.
Trixie hangs up the phone. “Now we wait.” Instead of celebrating her successful performance, she chews her bottom lip.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“I wish we hadn’t visited Caleb the other day,” she says. “We wouldn’t have found out what we needed to know, but it’s the weakest link in our plan.”
“How so?”
“Think about it. Travis Anderson escapes from jail two days after his ‘uncle’ came to visit him. They have Jesse’s information on file. Even the worst detective is going to follow that lead. They’ll figure out that Jesse isn’t related to you, and not only will that make him the most likely suspect, but it’ll leave a trail all the way back to Tacoma.”
I swear. So does Jesse.
“We can’t do it then,” I say, shaking my head. “I won’t let Jesse get in trouble for this.” We designed the plan to minimize his involvement. We only need him to drive us back to the motel once we’re free. Ten minutes of relatively minor risk. That’s all. We planned it so there won’t be any witnesses when he picks us up, but now it seems like he’ll be implicated no matter what.”
“Maybe not,” Trixie says. “While you’re in there, you could possess someone who can delete the record of his visit.”
“Yes! God you’re brilliant. I’ll go in early so there’s enough time to get that done.”
She still seems worried.
“Is there something else?” I ask.
