‘Yes.’
‘And this is … what, your hideout?’
‘Yes.’
‘The wig and mustache is your disguise?’
‘Yes. And the fake potbelly.’
She opens her mouth, then closes it. She seems to have run out of questions to ask, but she’s not whooping for breath and Billy thinks that’s another step in the right direction. Then he thinks, Who am I kidding? There is no right direction.
‘Have you looked at your—’ He points at her lap.
‘Yes.’ Small voice. ‘Just before I got up to see where I was. There’s blood. And it hurts. I knew that you … or somebody …’
‘It isn’t just blood. You’ll see when you clean yourself up. At least one of them didn’t use protection. Probably none of them did.’
She puts the forkful of eggs down uneaten.
‘I’m going out. There’s a twenty-four-hour drugstore about half a mile from here, back toward the city. I’ll have to walk because I don’t have a car. You can buy the morning-after pill over the counter in this state, I just checked on my phone to make sure. Unless you have religious or moral objections to taking it, that is?’
‘God, no.’ In that same small voice. She’s crying again. ‘If I got pregnant …’ She just shakes her head.
‘Some drugstores also sell ladies’ underwear. If they do, I’ll buy some.’
‘I can pay you back. I have money.’ This is absurd and she seems to know it because she looks away, flushing.
‘Your clothes are hanging in the bathroom. Once I’m gone you could put them on and get out of here. I can’t stop you. But listen, Alice.’
He reaches out and turns her face back to him. Her shoulders stiffen, but she looks at him.
‘I saved your life last night. It was cold and it was raining and you were unconscious. Drugged to the gills. If you didn’t die of exposure you would have choked on your own vomit. Now I’m going to put my life in your hands. Do you understand me?’
‘It was those men who raped me? You swear?’
‘I couldn’t swear to it in court because I didn’t see their faces, but three men dumped you out of that van and you were with three men in that apartment when your memory went dark.’
Alice puts her hands over her face. ‘I’m so ashamed.’
Billy is honestly perplexed. ‘Why? You trusted and you were tricked. End of story.’
‘I saw your picture on the news. You shot that man.’
‘I did. Joel Allen was a bad man, a hired killer.’ Like me, Billy thinks, but there’s at least one difference. ‘He waited outside a poker game and shot two men because he lost big and wanted his money back. One of them died. I want to go now while it’s still early and there aren’t too many people on the streets.’
‘Do you have a sweatshirt?’
‘Yes. Why?’
‘Wear it over that.’ She points to the fake belly. ‘It will look like you’re trying to hide your stomach. It’s what fat people do.’
6
The rain has let up but it’s still cold and he’s glad for the sweatshirt. He waits for a car to pass, splashing up water, then crosses the street to the vacant lot side. He sees the skid marks from the van. They’re not as long and dark as they would have been if the pavement had been dry. He drops to one knee, knowing what he’s looking for but not really expecting to find it. He does, though. He puts it in his pocket and re-crosses Pearson Street because the sidewalk on the vacant lot side was damaged by the machines the city brought in to demolish the train station. That was a year ago or more, judging by the way the vegetation has grown up, but nobody has bothered to fix the concrete.
He touches her lost earring as he walks. When the police take him, it will go in an evidence envelope, as will the rest of his possessions, and she’ll probably never get it back. Billy’s pretty sure she’ll drop a dime on him. Whether she believes he saved her life or not, she knows he’s a wanted killer, and she may also believe that she could be charged with aiding and abetting for not turning him in as soon as she gets a chance.
But no, Billy thinks. She’s a shy girl, a scared girl, and a confused girl, but she’s not a dumb girl. She could claim he kidnapped her and they’d believe her. Her phone won’t work even if she searches and finds it, but the Zoney’s convenience store is close and she can call the police from there. She’s probably there already and they’ll take him as he walks back from the drugstore. Cop cars with their misery lights flashing, one of them bouncing up over the curb in front of him, doors flying open even before the cruiser stops, cops getting out with guns drawn: Show your hands, get on the ground, face down, face down.