Page 20 of Desperate Creed

Of course, he was good. He’d downed three fast-food breakfast sandwiches between hits. The man could wolf down food no matter the circumstances.

Braxton saw a vendor on the other side. The line didn’t look long. He wasn’t thrilled about a plastic-wrapped pre-made sandwich, but it’d have to do. He waited for a janitor and cart to pass then he weaved his way through traffic.

15

In the back her mind Frankie kept telling herself, just be exactly what people expect to see.

Walk with purpose. But not too fast.

Get to the next bathroom. But again, not too fast.

Remember, you don’t enjoy cleaning toilets so much that you’re in a rush. Keep it slow.

People stepped aside for the moving cart, but no one really took time to look at her. In a matter of seconds she was steering the cart right by Gate 2, the mop handle bouncing around in front of her. A broom was slid into the left side of the cart with its bristles obscuring her vision, but it also would partly obscure her face.

Still, when she saw the man with the scar, every nerve ending came alert. He was looking up the ramp, watching for new passengers coming to the gates from the security checkpoint. She would be in his line of vision the entire trip. Would he notice something different about the woman pushing the cart?

Her heart already pounded in her ears. Would she even hear if the real janitor started yelling at her?

Passengers engulfed her on both sides, going both ways. She stayed close to the right, plodding along with a steady pace. She didn’t stop for anyone, didn’t weave around. A straight line.

Boarding calls blared around her. People talked on cell phones. Families scurried to keep up. Passengers bumped each other’s roller cases without slowing and without apology. And Frankie just kept moving, pushing the cart, hoping to not meet up with another janitor pushing another cart.

The whole time she could feel the presence of the man with the scar. He was now behind her, his eyes on her back. Only a bit farther and she’d turn a corner to an open concourse with several paths to other gates. She tried to picture exactly where the escalator was. He wouldn’t be able to see her once she turned that corner.

Unless he was walking up and down the ramp looking for her. He might be right behind her, right now. She didn’t dare glance back.

She hugged the wall.

Almost there.

She turned right. Ten feet away was another women’s restroom. Frankie guided the janitor cart into the entrance and waited for a group of women to exit. She did a quick scan to make sure no one could see her then she dug her bags out from deep inside the trash container. She didn’t even care that her backpack now had something disgusting hanging from it. She simply brushed it off, shouldered both bags and left.

This time her eyes darted around searching for the man while she headed for the escalators. Walking briskly.

Don’t run.

Once she hit the bottom it was an effort to keep from breaking out in a sprint.

Just keep walking. Blend in.

She glanced up at signs directing passengers, but Frankie really didn’t need them. She knew exactly where to go. While other passengers moved toward baggage claim, she rushed to the exit. As soon as she walked out the door she gulped in the blast of fresh air. It didn’t matter that it was filled with the fumes of gasoline and diesel. It was one step closer to escaping.

A shuttle started to leave, and she raised her hand, getting the driver’s attention. He stopped. The side door slid open, and Frankie bounded up the steps. The door slid shut, and they were moving again, almost knocking her off her feet. She purposely by-passed several open seats. Her eyes darted out the windows. She wanted to see if the man with the scar had followed her outside. She tried to watch while she teetered down the aisle.

Very few passengers dared to look up at her and away from their phone screens. Most of the time it annoyed Frankie how glued people were to their electronic devices. Today, she was grateful for those same obsessions. She didn’t want anyone to see the panic and urgency on her face, in her gestures. She made her way to the back, an empty bench all to herself. Only now did she realize she was out of breath.

No time to rest. She dug out her cell phone. She turned it on and ignored the messages pinging and lighting up. Instead, she brought up the rental car service still bookmarked. Not the one McGavin Holt always had her use. The one her boyfriend—ex-boyfriend—had a membership with. The one Gordon had asked her to use when she arranged their weekend getaway before Christmas. Before she knew the lying bastard was banging his fitness trainer. The fitness trainer who used to be Frankie’s friend. In a single swoop, she’d lost her two closest friends.

Forget about it, she told herself. She couldn’t think about that right now.

What impressed her was how his rental car membership made it so easy and convenient. She brought up the website. She still remembered his gold card membership number, his user name and password. She even remembered his VISA number. Details, numbers—she had a knack. Call it payback. The best part, even though she was listed as a secondary driver, no one could track the rental car to her. It would be in his name.

In a matter of seconds she had an SUV reserved. A few minutes later, her watch vibrated letting her know she had a new email. She logged into her account and there waiting was the confirmation number along with the parking stall number. The keys would be in the vehicle, and it would be ready to go when she arrived in the next ten to fifteen minutes.

Okay, so this would just take her longer. She should have thought of it sooner. She could have saved herself the cost of a flight and the near confrontation with Tyler’s attacker. She shut down her phone. Tossed it into her bag and told herself she’d need to use the pre-paid phones from here on out. And as soon as she got outside of the Chicago area, she would call Hannah, again.

She leaned her head against the back of the seat. She could relax if even for a short time. And yet, her heart still pounded in her ears. Without glancing down, she knew her hands were still shaking.