Reacher hauled Pep upright and pushed him forward. Hannah coughed and spluttered and wheezed as the tension on the belt finally eased. She wriggled her fingers between it and her skin. Loosened it a little further. She sucked in a desperate gasping breath. Reacher worked at the knot. It had been pulled tight by all the struggling. Pep’s arm was still a dead weight. It took another thirty seconds to get it free then Reacher slipped the loose end through the buckle. Hannah flopped forward against the steering wheel. She groped for the door handle. Found it. Slid out. Collapsed onto the Mercury’s trunk. She lay on her back. Stared at the sky. And breathed.
—
The atmosphere was foul. It was full of diesel and gasoline fumes from all the traffic in the parking lot and on the highway. Normally Hannah would be repulsed by it. She had grown up with the clear mountain air in Gerrardsville. But in that moment, she couldn’t imagine how anything could taste sweeter.
—
Something told Jed Starmer to stop.
He had spent ten minutes hiding in the alley after he was done running from the scruffy guys’ car. It had taken him that long to get his breath back. And to figure out what his next move should be. It was one thing to decide to leave town. But it was another to work out how. He had been hoping to get the rest of the way to Winson on a prison shuttle, but that was only because of the sign he’d seen in Texas. He didn’t know for sure they had them in Mississippi. The sign had been in the Greyhound station in Dallas. He hadn’t seen one in the station there, in Jackson. But he hadn’t had the chance to look, because of the scruffy guys. And he couldn’t go back now. The officers might have returned. They might be there, lying in wait for him. He didn’t have a phone with internet access so he couldn’t google the information. He couldn’t risk wandering about at random. He might be spotted. But he could go old school. He remembered running past a stand of payphones, two blocks back. And he still had a few coins in his pocket.
First Jed called directory assistance. Then he called the Minerva facility in Winson. He told the receptionist he was an inmate’s relative and he wanted to come visit but didn’t know how to get to the prison. He asked if there was a shuttle service from Jackson. The receptionist said there wasn’t. Not a dedicated one. Which was why most visitors used the local bus. She gave Jed the address of the stop. She even told him the departure times.
The bus was due to leave in four minutes. Jed had gotten close enough to hear the engine. It was rumbling steadily away, just around the corner. He’d had to run the last quarter mile to give himself a chance of catching it. The next one wasn’t due for another hour. He didn’t want to be exposed on the street for that long. But a sudden thought had struck him. Officers had been at the Greyhound station. On the lookout for him. Detectives, or agents, or whatever they were. Which meant there could be more of them at the bus stop. He could run right into them. There would be no way to avoid getting caught. It would be as bad as giving himself up.
Jed stopped. He was almost at the intersection. Then a guy on a bike ran straight into him. Some kind of a messenger. He had a satchel slung over his shoulder and he had been riding on the sidewalk. The impact sent Jed staggering forward. Past the end of the building. The force spun him around. The side of his foot caught in a gap between two paving slabs. He lost his balance. He fell. Rolled over. Came to a halt straddling the curb. Half on the sidewalk. Half in the gutter. And fully in view of everyone at the bus stop.
People were staring at Jed. Maybe half a dozen. He didn’t get a good look at them. And he didn’t lie sprawling on the ground long enough to count heads. He just scrambled to his feet and darted back into the lee of the building, out of their sight.
The messenger had propped his bike against the wall. He was standing next to it, watching and waiting. As soon as Jed was in range he shoved him in the chest. He said, “Idiot. Look where you’re going. You could have got me killed.” Then he shoved Jed again and disappeared through a revolving glass door and into the last building on the block.
Jed thought about the people he had seen on the next street. Maybe they were only waiting to get on the bus. Or maybe they were watching it. Or maybe just a pair of them were. A pair of detectives. Or agents. Jed turned to run. And stopped himself again. He had nowhere to go. No other means of transport. The bus was his only shot at leaving town. He’d be crazy not to take it if it was safe.
Jed had to know for sure. So he crept back to the end of the building. He ducked down. Peered around the corner. And saw two guys. One was slipping a phone into his pocket. The guy gestured to his partner. To start moving. Which they did, straightaway. Straight toward Jed.
