It takes her less than five minutes to gather it all up. The rest will have to stay, including things that are sentimental. Framed photos, notes, and gifts that Wes has given her over the years. She can’t fit any of it.
“Come on,” Wes says.
She walks out of the bedroom, leaving it all behind. Wes is waiting for her, wearing a baseball cap, a fresh shirt, and a backpack slung over his good arm. He still hasn’t shaved. Wes barely resembles the photograph they keep showing on the news.
“I hope you have a plan,” she says.
He leans over to kiss her, slow and deep enough to make her head spin.
“I always have a plan,” he says. “First, I need a screwdriver.”
77
Twenty minutes. That was all Wes needed.
Heath’s car was not an option. It’s a Tesla, brand-new and easily trackable. Heath was probably staring at his phone, watching everywhere it went.
They had to use Abigail’s Toyota. Wes took a license plate off an old Honda parked behind Ivy’s apartment building and switched it out to buy a little extra time. Enough to stop at an ATM, where Ivy withdrew as much money as she could.
The police would find out—they would see the transaction and they would see Ivy on the security camera—but by then they would be long gone. He hoped.
“Now throw the card out,” he told her.
She looked confused for a second, then understood. She can’t use her bank card again. Ever. Ivy threw it into the trash can on the sidewalk.
From the bank, he drove straight to the mall parking lot. But instead of pulling in, he went around the block to leave Abigail’s car somewhere else. Not where they would actually be. A calculated risk, because it meant walking a couple of blocks, but he didn’t want to risk the police figuring out how they left town. At least, not right away.
His mind continued to spin, searching for anything he might have forgotten. Like that parking sticker. There’s always something, a tiny thing that could lead police right to them. Luckily, they have no idea where they’re going.
Wes told her they need to start using fake names. “The guy we’re riding with doesn’t know who I am. We can’t tell him.”
“Adam and Eve,” she said.
“No.”
“Romeo and Juliet?”
“They committed suicide.”
“John and Yoko,” she said.
“Stop. I had to make a fake profile for the app. This guy already thinks my name is Mark.”
“Mark? Of all the names in the world, you picked Mark?”
He shrugged.
“Then I have to be Cleo,” she said.
“Why do you—”
“Mark Antony and Cleopatra.”
He didn’t tell her that they also committed suicide.
They walked around a corner, dodging to avoid streetlights. The empty shell of Rolling Hills Mall loomed in front of them. Before heading into the parking lot, he stopped her.
“Are you sure about this?”
“I’m sure,” she said.
“Because this isn’t a game. We’ll be on the run for the rest of our lives.”
“Are you always going to be annoying and frustrating?” she asked.
“Of course. So will you.”
She touched him on the nose with the tip of her finger. “I love you.”
“I love you more.” He kissed her on the forehead. “Just don’t hit me with a car.”
* * *
—
Their ride was waiting for them in the parking lot. The van was painted on the outside to look like a house. Clever. A little conspicuous, but still clever. The driver looked exactly like the picture on his profile: young, a little scruffy, a little stoned.
Now Wes is in the back of the van, nestled within the small living space, while Ivy sits in the front with their driver. He has traveled all over the world and speaks a little bit of everything. So does Ivy. They talk in broken words and sentences in a variety of languages.
Wes doesn’t understand any of it. He watches the road as they drive due east, straight out of California.
Who knows how long they’ll last out here, on the run. No real names, no Social Security numbers, nothing except a bit of money and whatever is in their backpacks. A couple of weeks, maybe a month. If they can make it that long, everything will start to settle down and the police will move on to other crimes. Maybe then he’ll be able to contact his sister. Stella may hate Ivy, but she loves her brother.
But that won’t even be an option unless they get very, very lucky. A long road between now and then.
Wes forces himself to stay awake, fighting the urge to close his eyes. Eventually, Ivy exhausts herself and her knowledge of foreign languages. She crawls into the back of the van and curls up next to him on the couch-slash-bed.
“How’s your arm?” she says. “Are you in pain?”
“This whole van smells like weed. I don’t feel much of anything.”
She sighs. “We’re going to make it. I can feel it.”
Make it where? He doesn’t ask, doesn’t know. He’s too busy thinking of all the other ways this could have gone.
Wes leans in close and whispers in her ear. “I wish you hadn’t done it.”
“Done what?”
“Called the police.”
“I wish you hadn’t stalked me,” she whispers.
He sits up a little, jostling her with the sudden movement. “What did you say?”
“You shouldn’t have stalked me,” she says, still keeping her voice low. “Sent me those photos and the truffles. Jesus, those damn truffles.”
“But I didn’t.”
She frowns. “You did. That’s how I knew it was you.”
“Ivy,” he says, “I never stalked you. I never sent you any of those things.”
“Of course you did.”
“I thought you had done it. Faked it.”
She shakes her head. “No.”
“Then who?” he says.
Even as he asks, he knows the answer.
EPILOGUE
SIX MONTHS LATER
MILO: Welcome to episode 127 of the Broken Men podcast. I’m Milo, and I’m here with my cohosts and two of the best guys ever, Brock and Diego. We have a very special guest with us today. But before we get to him, let’s talk about Wes Harmon and Ivy Banks. I know everybody remembers them.
BROCK: Hard to forget. How many people died? Was it two or three?
DIEGO: Two. Joey Fisher and that woman from Siphon. Abigail. Plus the detective who ended up in the hospital.
MILO: Karen. She lived, though. That was right before they disappeared.
BROCK: Wes and Ivy are like our own Bonnie and Clyde.
DIEGO: Except they didn’t rob banks or gas stations.
BROCK: That we know of.
MILO: Indeed. I suspect there’s a lot we don’t know about Wes and Ivy. Which brings us to our guest. Heath, welcome to the show.
HEATH: Thanks for having me.
MILO: I first saw Heath interviewed on a local news show after everything went down. Heath was a friend of Ivy’s, so I reached out and eventually convinced him to join us on the podcast. Heath, thanks so much for doing this.
HEATH: No problem.
MILO: Full disclosure here. A while back, I met Ivy Banks in a bar and we had a drink together. Let’s just say I wasn’t too happy when she posted a picture of us online. It caused a huge problem with my fiancée.