Chapter 17

Ihitched a ride with a nun. There’s something I never thought I’d say in my life, but there you have it. After leaving Apex and walking for a few hours, I decided the only option I had if I wanted to put some distance between me and those I loved was to hitch a ride.

I took the knife I’d stashed in my bag, eased it into the front pocket of my hoodie, and stuck my thumb out like I’d seen people do in the movies.

I started to lose faith in my plan when hardly any cars had passed me for most of the night. So, imagine my surprise when an old-fashioned station wagon pulled up beside me with a habit-wearing nun behind the wheel. It had to be a joke.

Yet here I am, waving goodbye to Sister Mary Dorothea after driving for the last twelve hours with her as she heads to her convent. I look up at the shelter she insisted on taking me to and blow out a nervous breath.

I’ve heard horror stories about what can happen in these places. But Sister Mary had promised that this was a good one that only allowed entrance to women. I’m not stupid. I know a woman could just as easily shove a knife in my stomach and steal my things, but she’d be unable to steal the one thing a man could take from me.

I head through the door before I can talk myself out of it and find a woman behind a high counter with a protective screen in front of her. I’m not sure if it’s for her safety or something left over from COVID, but it makes me feel like I’m a criminal walking into a police station.

“Can I help you?”

“Hi, I was wondering if you had a bed for the night.”

The woman removes her glasses and looks me up and down. “How old are you, dear?”

“Eighteen.” She looks at me with suspicion which is unusual. Most people think I look older.

“It was my birthday a few days ago. I ran as soon as I knew I couldn’t be dragged back. Sister Mary Dorothea told me to come here.”

I layer the lie with the truth and hope she buys it. I can make her feel any number of things, but I don’t want to use my gift unless I have to.

“Oh, Sister Mary is a sweetheart. Well, come on in. You’ll catch a chill standing there.”

I offer her a relieved smile. “Thank you. I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Well, we’ll look after you here. I need to ask, though, for the safety of the others: is anyone likely to turn up here looking for you?”

I want to say no, but I know my father will be tracking me. “Maybe. But by then, I’ll be long gone.”

“Are you in trouble?”

“Yes, but I promise to leave before any one comes for me.”

She doesn’t say anything to that, but gestures for me to follow her. She leads me through to one of the rooms and opens the door, revealing a single bed and a set of bunk beds.

“This is the family room. You can use it for tonight. There is a lock on the door and an intercom beside it. If anyone needs you, we’ll buzz you, okay? Nobody is getting in without your permission.”

“Wow, that’s so much more than I expected,” I tell her as I follow her into the room.

“A family moved out this morning, and the next one isn’t moving in until tomorrow. There’s no point in leaving it empty. We’re quiet tonight anyway. I hope I didn’t just jinx us by saying that.”

I smile at her, thankful for her generosity.

“You want something to eat?”

“I have a few peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in my bag.”

“They’ll keep. I’ll bring you some stew. It’s hearty and will warm you up.” She heads to the door but stops, turning to me before she leaves. “There are people that can help you. Whatever it is you’re going through, you don’t have to do it alone.”

“The man after me is my father, and he’s a really bad man. But he’s powerful and connected. He has friends that?—”

She holds up her hand to stop me. “Say no more. I wish I could tell you that the police can protect you, but we both know that isn’t always true. And you wouldn’t be here if you thought they could. Tell me something about him.”

I jolt at her words and wonder why the hell she wants to know that.

“So many women come through those doors because we are their last resort. Because when they finally found the courage to tell their story, not everyone believed them. Tell me one thing you wish the world knew, and I’ll believe you.”

I swallow hard and feel tears prick the backs of my eyes. “He’s a human trafficker. Men, women, but mostly children. And he works for the government,” I finish in a whisper.

“Oh, child,” she murmurs before rushing over and tugging me in for a surprising hug. “I believe you. God knows, I wish you were lying, but I know you’re not.”

She pulls back and looks down at me, weariness lining her face. I have a feeling she’s heard a thousand stories like mine, and each one makes her lose a little more faith in humanity.

“You know what makes me smile, though? This big, bad, powerful man just got given the slip by a young lady he clearly underestimated. Keep going. Don’t back down. Keep giving him hell. I have a feeling about you. I see an inner strength that few still have by the time they make it here. Surviving is hard. And when I say hard, I mean freaking exhausting. But every day you survive is a day you win. And if you’re winning, then your father is losing.”

I smile at that, knowing I’ll need to remember this conversation someday to keep me going.

“Now, I’m going to get you some stew while you settle in for the night.”

“Okay. And thank you again.”

She waves me off. “You ever seen that movie Pay It Forward?”

“No, I’ve never seen it, but I understand the concept.”

“Good. When the opportunity arises for you to help someone in need, take it, and then we can call it even.”

She’s gone before I can say anything else, closing the door behind her. I drop my bag and walk over to the door, locking it before leaning against it.

I look around the plain but clean room and send up a silent prayer of thanks. I know my journey won’t always be an easy one, but tonight, at least, I’ll have a roof over my head and a bed to sleep in.

Picking up my bag, I toss it onto the top bunk before climbing up. I shove the bag until it’s pressed up against the wall, then make myself comfortable. I stare at the ceiling and try not to think about everyone at Apex. They’ll know I’m gone by now. I don’t want to think about what their reactions will be. Most will be hurt, and others will be angry. Maybe they’ll think this was all part of some elaborate scheme. God, if only. I wish I could have told them the truth, but they would have just made me stay. They’d risk my father and his men coming to Apex so that I wasn’t out here alone. I know that. But they don’t know my dad like I do. If he couldn’t get to me, he’d wipe Apex off the map. If he can’t have me, nobody can. The chip in my arm is the only thing I have going for me right now. He’ll follow me. He won’t be able to help himself. And while he’s focusing on me, he won’t be looking at Apex.

I run my fingertips over the small bump in my arm I’d thought was a contraceptive implant and debate whether or not to cut it out and flush it away. A smile pulls at my lips as I imagine a team of my father’s men wading through the sewer system, looking for me.

It wouldn’t take him long, though, to figure out what I’d done. Then he’d turn his attention back to Apex. No, for now, this is the best option.

A buzz on the intercom has me climbing off the bed and hitting the button beside the speaker. “Yes?”

“Dinner.”

I smile and open the door, my stomach rumbling at the smell.

“You are more than welcome to come and eat out here, but a couple more people have shown up. If you don’t want people to remember you, it might be better to stay in here.”

“Yeah, I’ll eat in here. I don’t want to drag anyone else into my mess.”

She places the tray on the small table at the side of the room. There is a large bowl of stew on it, along with a couple of dinner rolls and a bottle of water. Next to the bowl is a cell phone.

I look up at her, and she crosses her arms over her chest, daring me to argue. “We keep a couple extra here. The truth is, we have wives running from husbands who are cops and judges. And nobody wants to believe they’re capable of such acts. More often than not, the wife is called a liar. Those cases are the worst, and our hands here are tied. There is only so much we can do because those assholes wouldn’t think twice about calling in a few favors and having this place shut down.”

“You might not be able to help everyone, but you help some.”

“It never feels like enough, though,” she admits. “Take the phone. It’s prepaid. It has fifty dollars on it, and the number is on the back of the phone for you to memorize. I don’t know it, and I don’t want to. The less I know, the less anyone can get out of me.”

“I can’t take this. Someone else might need it more.”

She wraps her hand around my wrist. “A young woman alone needs a damn phone, even if you only use it for emergencies. Find a library. They’ll usually let you charge it there for free. Other places, like bus terminals, trains, and internet cafés, also have charging stations. Hell, even most hospital waiting rooms have them now, which I always found odd when they insist you turn the damn things off. Anyway, keep it charged. A smart girl like you will figure it out. One day, when the coast is clear, come back and let me know you’re okay.”

“Thank you…” I pause, realizing I don’t know her name.

“Mallory. Don’t tell me yours. Like I said, the less I know, the better. But you might want to start going by an alias.”

I nod, knowing she’s right. It’s just more proof of how willfully unprepared I am.

“When you’re done, just leave your tray outside the door, and I’ll come and collect it. If I don’t see you before you leave, good luck and be safe.” She gives me a smile and turns and leaves as I choke down the emotion she’s triggered by her unexpected kindness.

Sitting at the table, I eat the stew even though I’ve lost my appetite because I know that for every good day I have, I’ll have plenty more bad ones.

Once I’ve finished everything on the tray, I leave it outside the door and grab my bag before heading into the tiny en-suite bathroom.

The shower has virtually no water pressure, but it’s warm, and there are toiletries and clean towels. I wash away the day’s grime and re-braid my hair after drying off.

I’d love nothing more than to put on a cozy pair of pajamas and snuggle up with a book, but unfortunately, that’s not meant to be. I can’t afford to let my guard down now.

I pull on clean underwear and get dressed in the same outfit as before. Then, I wash my panties, socks, and bra and hang them on the heated towel rack. They shouldn’t take long to dry. While they do, I rummage through the front pocket of my bag and grab the map and pen Sister Mary gave me.

She looked like she wanted to roll her eyes at me when I admitted that I’d never seen a paper map before, but she was far too disciplined for that.

I spread the map out on the table and circle the area where I started before tracing my way to where I am now. I don’t have a destination in mind. My only thoughts are to stay as far away from the Division’s headquarters as possible, which I angrily circle, and to try and stick mostly to cities and large towns where it’s easier to get lost.

People will remember a stranger turning up in a small town, and by the end of the day, the whole damn town will know. Of course, hiding in a city will have its own problems. I might be a little safer from my dad, but I’ll be an easy target for others.

Luckily, I have a weapon at my disposal that nobody can take away from me. It’s both a comfort and a worry.

As much as I don’t want to use my gift, I will if I’m in danger. It’s the only thing stopping me from having a panic attack right now.

I refold the map and tuck it back into the front pocket with the pen. I throw the bag back on to the top bunk before climbing up and getting comfortable, pressing myself as close to the wall as possible. It would be just my luck if I fell off in the middle of the night and broke my arm, but I feel safe up here in the shadows.

I close my eyes, and with nothing else to do, I cry myself to sleep.