Chapter Thirteen

Juliette

Exit 2 A71/E9 in France

Saturday 4:15 p.m.

T he sign said this was Orléans, which was good because she was just about out of gas.

Juliette wanted to look at her phone and find out where Orléans was on the map.

She'd read about cell phones and tracking. She'd used apps herself when she put her phone down in her house, and she couldn't remember where. It was a simple matter of entering the code into the computer. Even if the phone was off, that was overridden, and it would ring loudly.

The men who took her, surely, they found her this way ? by her phone's location.

Juliette had pulled her cell phone from her pocket and took out the battery as she powered down the road. She wasn't sure if turning it off or putting it in airplane mode was enough. She'd throw it out the window but there were some contact numbers on there that she might need.

With no access to the internet, Juliette couldn't look for directions.

There were never any public phones around anymore, so she couldn't make a phone call. Who would she call? Everyone she knew was far away in the United States. Her grandmother, here in France, had denied her existence. And Juliette didn't know anyone else in Europe. She knew very few people in America. Her father was basically her whole world since the accident. The nurses and the audiologists, the physical therapists. She had no close friends. No girlfriends.

Juliette had mourned that. She wanted friends. But she was of such an age that friends didn't come easily. Especially when you had very little to give to a friendship. She had no past to share, nothing that made her interesting. No special hobbies. Toby, her stability dog, gave her an opportunity to talk to strangers. But other than that, Juliette lived in books. She imagined herself to be one of the characters and walked in their shoes. Books gave her freedoms that her body preempted.

No, there was no one, other than her father, that she knew well enough to call and ask them to send her some money.

Her father.

That's whom she should call.

But a seed had been planted in her head at her childhood apartment when the concierge had said David DuBois was gay. It had germinated at her grandmother's when even the possibility of Juliette existing was denied. The flash of the Russian men calling her doctor. Her. Doctor. And not the flat picture memory, an actual memory.

The only person she told about going to Toulouse was the voice mail she'd left her dad, and, of course, she told her caregiver who lived with her. How would the Russian men be able to find her in France? Why did they want to find her in France? Where had they been taking her? And to what end?

It seemed that at least some of the stories her father had told her, and that she had believed to be true, simply weren't true. She'd never lived on Rue de Tourneur. She'd never played in her grandmother's yard and eaten her tart tatin.

How staggering a revelation was that?

For the first time Juliette didn't trust anyone or anything.

She'd have to depend on herself.

What she needed was a plan. And the first step was to get away from the Russian men. They were her imminent threat.

Juliette had exchanged very little money when she'd arrived last night. Her wallet held just enough cash for taxis and a quick bite at a café. The rest she had assumed she'd put on her credit card.

Credit cards could be traced, too. But that was by really bad people.

The Russian men were evil. They'd probably be able to follow her credit card. She'd have to assume they could and that they had use of other kinds of technology, too.

They might even be able to follow this car. It wasn't brand new, but it looked like it was new enough that it would have a computer system that could track it.

The why of all this, that was the confusing part.

There must be a reason.

All right. Okay. She'd assume that one way or another, the kidnappers or the police knew where she was. Someone knew. Should she actually try to go to the police?

Juliette didn't know why, but that seemed like a mistake.

She was going to trust her gut. It was about all she had right now as a way of finding a course of action.

Her gut told her that the kidnappers would know where she was, and they would be right behind her. What she should do is give them a single place to look while she got herself together. They'd pinpoint her there at a single spot, but if she was quick enough, she could get away. And she'd have the supplies she needed to help her succeed.

Cash was a top priority.

Clothes. The books always did that, had their characters change clothing right away. And put on a hat and sun glasses. It was an overcast day and getting late. She shouldn't go the sun glasses route.

The main thing, when trying to escape, was to blend. She'd read the novels where the women had cut off their long hair and dyed it a different color. She could do that, but it seemed to her that those characters were always spotted and recognized. If she'd already cut off her hair and colored it, she wouldn't have any other way to obscure her look.

She pulled up to a shopping area. Staring down the street she saw the stores where she could go and equip herself. Juliette mapped a path. The electronics shop. The luggage shop for a backpack or such. Her things were still back at her hotel in Toulouse along with her computer.

She stared down the street, making a mental map and notes of how she'd progress forward without needing to backtrack. A solid plan to stand on. Something that might still her vertigo. After she got a backpack, she'd cross the street for some clothes. Next to that, three doors down, a shoe shop for some tennis shoes, these heels were a stupid mistake. There was a cafe just beyond, and a pharmacy for a quick grab of toiletries. All of it put on her debit card.

She scrawled a quick note for the owner.

I'm so sorry to have put you through this. Forgive me. I was kidnapped and running for my safety. You saved my life. I will always be appreciative and hold you in prayer.

Juliette put that note in the glove compartment with the keys. She left the car unlocked when she climbed out. She didn't bother trying to hide her face, if there was someone watching her on cameras, they'd know where she was going. She thought that was probably a good plan. The car was here, why not get caught on camera? That way, when she decided to disappear, it would be a change in tactic, and it might confuse them. It might give her a little extra precious time.

She shut the car door and walked with faltering steps toward the shop for her phone. If she was only able to do one task, this was the one that was most important.

Juliette decided that she'd get the maximum cash back with each purchase. Then, she'd get out of the area, one way or another. They'd probably expect her to go back to Toulouse to gather her things. Maybe they'd expect her to head straight back to America. Surely if she could get to Paris, she could fly any place in the world. She just needed to pick a safe place to go.

Juliette pushed through the door into the electronics store. She brushed her hair behind her ears and looked around. The girl behind the counter glanced up from her phone.

"I'm pressed for time, would you mind helping me?" Juliette asked in French. She reached out to grab hold of the shelving unit. "Whew, excuse me, I'm a little dizzy."

The girl's gaze travelled down to Juliette's boots and back up to her face.

Juliette knew the mud was readily visible on the wet knees of her jeans, though she'd brushed off the leaves and debris from her crawl through the ditch on her way to steal the car. She probably looked drunk…or crazy. The service vest her dog Toby wore announcing her disability was usually enough to take away those judgements. Right now, filthy and disoriented, well she'd be memorable, that was for sure.

Probably the most expedient way to get out of there was for Juliette to say exactly what she needed to this girl and see if she was helpful. Juliette could always run right back out the door.

"I'm in a big hurry. I'm travelling in France for a short time, and I need a phone I can use while I'm here. A prepaid phone. And a tablet, please."

The girl hesitated for a moment, her gaze sweeping over the store front window.

"Okay." The girl rounded the counter. She was probably a teenager. She was short and thin with mousy brown hair and an overbite. She wore a pair of ill-fitting jeans and a T-shirt with some game logo. "The tablet needs to be connected to Wi-Fi to work, unless you just need it for word processing or plugging in a memory stick."

"Oh." Juliette hadn't thought of that. "I do need to access the Internet."

The girl had moved to the door and was searching the streets, and Juliette didn't know what to make of it.

"Look," she said. "You can get to a Wi-Fi signal privately with a hot spot."

Juliette got the feeling that this girl had some background with working around the system.

"You can buy a thirty-day prepaid on the hotspot that's secure," she said more slowly, enunciating more clearly. Obviously taking Juliette's confused expression to be a language barrier.

"Secure?" Juliette asked.

"Private. Not traceable."

"Okay. Can I get the phone, the tablet, and the hot spot please?" She pulled out her wallet and fished out a credit card while the girl walked around the store gathering things.

When the girl walked back to the counter to lay the boxes down, she eyed the credit card.

"You know," she said. "There's an ATM two doors down in the tabac." She pointed to the right. "Cash is always good. That and prepaid credit cards." She tapped the display next to her register with plastic cards that read Joyeux Anniversaire and Félicitations ! "When you pay in cash, it's hard to tell which customer bought which thing."

Juliette was torn about what this girl was telling her. Perhaps, she realized Juliette was on the run, and she wanted time to call the police. She could be getting Juliette out of the store, so she could lock the door. She could also realize that Juliette was scared and in trouble and be helping her. Surely, Juliette wasn't the first one to come into the store looking for anonymity. They had a whole wall of prepaid phones available.

Juliette decided that getting to the bank machine was the best route. She hadn't even considered that before. She held up a finger and spun to walk out of the store.

Turning right, walking two store fronts, Juliette pushed through the door of the tabac into a dark, cramped space . At the counter, a man was scrolling through his phone and barely looked up when the bells tinkled on the door, announcing her entry. Juliette moved to the ATM. She'd let the bank know before she left the US that she'd be travelling overseas. Hopefully this would work.

She slipped her card into the slot and waited for the prompts. Here, unlike in the US, there wasn't a list of amounts to choose from increasing in twenty-dollar increments. There was simply a place to type the amount in. Perhaps there wasn't a limit here like there was in the States.

This credit card was connected to her father's account. Juliette didn't have an income; she was completely financially dependent on her dad. An invalid unable to drive, unable to concentrate, unable to do her work as a veterinarian's assistant.

How much money should she take? A lot. Enough to get her out of France. She processed quickly. The machine only held so much money. How much should she try for? She decided on two thousand euro. Just over two thousand American dollars. Her dad would understand. He'd be glad that she did this to stay safe.

Juliette put the amount in, entered her PIN number, and held her breath.

After a moment, there was a whir and the machine moved the money into the drop.

With a shaking hand, Juliette pulled the pile out. She gave the man a quick glance to make sure he was still engrossed. The man at the cash register was busily tapping a text message, he hadn't noticed what she was up to.

Juliette shoved the wad into her waist band under her turtleneck sweater.

As she hustled out of the door, Juliette decided to use cash for the rest of her purchases, so no one would know the supplies she'd collected. But the prepaid cards were a good idea, too. After all they said Visa and Master Card on them. There weren't many motels that allowed people to stay just by handing them cash.

With a hand on the wall to help her stay steady, Juliette made her way back to purchase the electronics, and the access they'd give her to options. Even if the girl had locked the door to the shop, Juliette had cash.

Money meant choices.

Money was power.