Rescue Me Page 7

  “One adult ticket to St. Louis, please.”

  The woman behind the glass didn’t look up. “One-twelve-seventy-one.”

  Julia pushed two hundred dollars through the slot. The cashier punched some buttons, the machine whirred and spit out a ticket. She pushed it through the slot along with change.

  “Next bus leaves at 10:45, arrives in St. Louis at ten a.m. tomorrow.”

  “Whew, eleven hours?”

  The woman looked up, narrowing her eyes and giving Julia the once-over, her gaze lingering briefly on the magnificent diamond ring. “Bus is the cheapest way to get there, but you pay the price in time. If you’re in a hurry—”

  “No, no, I was just surprised it’s so far.” Shut up, Julia!

  The cashier nodded and lifted an eyebrow. “Do you need anything else?”

  “Actually, yes, is there a restaurant close by?”

  “There’s a café across the street, and a sushi joint up by the library.”

  Julia brightened. “Oh, where is the library?”

  “Two, three blocks away, corner of Hudson and Park.”

  Julia thanked the woman and hurried toward the door to Hudson Street, cursing herself for once again calling attention to herself. Clearly, the hardest part of this plan would be to avoid getting drawn into conversations. They seemed to spiral out of control every time she opened her mouth. She stepped out into the warm evening air and took a deep breath. It was hard to get used to the balmy evening weather here. At home, the temperatures would already be crisp at this hour. A sharp pain sliced through her chest at the thought of her beautiful horse farm in the rolling foothills of the Cascades. A sight she’d never see again. Indecision grabbed her by the throat. Was this the right thing to do? Had she lost her mind, thinking that running away would make her happy?

  She glanced at the bus ticket in her hand. It wasn’t too late to change her mind. She could be back in Miss Cokie’s stall in less than two hours and no one would ever know. A headache began at the base of her skull, the pain throbbing through her temples and pulsing in the scalp wound. She gingerly touched her jaw, feeling the congealed blood beneath the skin, knowing the bruise was dark and obvious, un-camouflaged by makeup. Another memorable feature that might be recalled by any of the half-dozen people she’d encountered.

  She walked a few feet, then leaned against the wall of the terminal building. Who was she fooling? Nothing would ever change with Stephen, and her only salvation would be to pursue a new life. And no one had ever promised it would be easy.

  She pushed away from the wall, took a deep breath, and headed toward the library. The tree-lined street was devoid of pedestrians, and only a few cars drove by as Julia walked toward Park Avenue. She hugged her shoulder bag closer and an uneasy feeling began in the pit of her stomach. What the hell was she doing wandering around the downtown area of a huge city with eighty thousand dollars in her purse and a twenty-five thousand dollar ring on her finger? Whiling away the time at the library had seemed like such a good idea, but she now realized she’d have to make the three block trek back to the bus station late at night. How stupid was that?

  A few minutes later, she gazed up at the handsome brick and glass building that housed the public library. It was modern architecture, but not nearly as gorgeous as her own beloved metropolitan library at home.

  She stopped short. “Dammit. Stop thinking about those things.”

  She crossed the street and entered the building, promising herself she’d only stay for a little while, then go back to the safety of the bus station. Inside the library, the temperature was much cooler and the familiar atmosphere comforted her, slowed her racing heartbeat. She strolled into the small patron services area which provided vending machines, rest rooms, drinking fountains, sale books, and a display of library promotional items. She entered the ladies restroom and looked around. It was empty. She squirted a small glob of soap into her left hand and massaged it around the ring. A second later, it slid off and she tucked it deep into her jeans pocket. Her stomach growled and she headed back to the patron area to check the vending machines. Several snack bars and a couple of sodas would hold her until she reached St. Louis. She dropped the goodies into her bag, then turned to examine the books for sale. She’d probably sleep the whole way, but books were irresistible, especially when they were on sale. She picked out two paperbacks, paid for them, then with one last glance around, left the library and headed back down the street.

  The bus that was scheduled to continue on to St. Louis had been delayed on the interstate by a twenty-car accident and hadn’t arrived at Union Station until eleven o’clock. While the coach was cleaned and the new driver checked in, Julia and two other passengers waited in the uncomfortable molded plastic chairs.

  At well past midnight, Julia sank gratefully into the soft cushions of the bus seat next to a window. Every muscle ached and her bones creaked in time with her throbbing headache. The snack bars and soda sat heavily in her stomach, and all she wanted was to close her eyes and go to sleep. She pushed the reclining seat back as far as it would go and gazed out the window into the darkness. Her own reflection shimmered against a few lights and billboards in the sleeping town, and she closed her eyes.

  A man’s voice penetrated the silence and Julia woke with a start, confused and unable to remember where she was. The bright lights of a bus terminal glared into the window and she looked at her watch. Two o’clock. She peered out and saw a sign on the building. Tulsa, OK. She exhaled and leaned back, hoping to sleep again. How many times would the bus stop and waken her? Don’t think about this stuff. Just sleep. You can worry about it tomorrow. That did it. She came fully awake, her brain churning. What, exactly, did she plan to do in St. Louis? She had plenty of money, but ID she couldn’t use. What did that eliminate? Car rental. Hotel room? She’d eventually need a job—what would that require? ID. She exhaled in disgust. She’d researched all this, but now that the moment was upon her, she was unprepared. She pulled the canvas tote closer. It contained her only connection with the real world she’d just abandoned. The bus hissed and eased away from the platform. She’d take things one obstacle at a time, but the first thing she’d do in St. Louis was find a room and get some sleep.

  Chapter 9

  First Day

  The wished for sleep came, but not the restful kind. Vivid dreams of Stephen and Coquette, and frightening unknown places woke her several times during the night as the bus sped north. Fatigue began to gnaw at her resolve and, again, she wondered if she’d made a mistake. What would happen to Coquette? An involuntary gasp sent a sharp pain through her chest. I just walked away without thinking about her welfare. Julia tried to calm her thoughts. Surely Chet would take care of her until…until what? Would Stephen keep the horses, thinking she’d be found? If not, what would be the alternatives? Numbed by the enormity of her actions, Julia again struggled to breathe, fought the band tightening around her throat. She took a deep breath and tried to push the disturbing thoughts away so she could concentrate on the next step, whatever that might be. Leaving it all behind was a required part of the plan if she were to succeed.

  Dawn colored the countryside a pale golden yellow and Julia gazed at the flat land that spread as far as she could see. Rows of dry corn stalks stretched away in perfect lines, forming geometric patterns as the view changed. Pale green, half-mown hayfields were the focus of the season, and huge machines waiting silently in the early light to resume their work. Sturdy brown cattle dotted every other pasture, and well-maintained barns and charming old farmhouses stood watch over the daily chores. How strange the view seemed—no mountains, no evergreens. Would this be the scenery of her new life?

  Soon the farmland changed to rural suburban, then quickly to commercial. A sign swept past the window. “Springfield, MO 9 miles” Julia leaned her head back and closed her eyes. The bus swung onto an exit and threaded into the morning commuter traffic, arriving at the bus station fifteen minutes later.

  The dr
iver’s voice came through the speakers. “Springfield, Missouri. Through passengers have forty minutes until departure for St. Louis.”

  Julia scooped up her tote bag and hobbled down the aisle, so stiff and sore that every muscle hurt. The brisk morning air was startling after the controlled comfort level in the bus. She shivered and hurried inside the building, wishing for the denim jacket that still hung on a hook in the tack stall. The bus station had seen better days, and was utilitarian, at best. Two rows of the obligatory molded plastic chairs faced a small television tuned to all-day news and weather. In the opposite corner, a neon sign glowed “S ack Bar”—the light was burned out in the “n”. A ticket counter, restrooms, and three vending machines completed the picture. Julia’s stomach growled and she headed toward the snack bar. A rack of travel literature stood next to the door and she stopped briefly to examine the offerings, then picked up a colorful visitor’s guide for St. Louis. Perfect. At least now I’ll know what to expect.

  A minute later, she gazed with distaste at the case of prepackaged food offerings, wondering how long they’d been there. Her stomach rumbled again and she shrugged. She’d take a chance on a doughnut and an orange. They would hold her until she reached civilization. A plastic cup of muddy black coffee completed her breakfast fare, and she settled into a chair at one of the tiny tables.

  Leafing through the glossy pages of the brochure, Julia’s spirits drooped. St. Louis was a vibrant city with hundreds of interesting and expensive things to do and see, but her visit wouldn’t be for pleasure. She would need some time to readjust her lifestyle mindset, from one of wealth to one of living from moment to moment. She hugged the tote bag closer. Her stash wouldn’t last forever, but it would give her the freedom and anonymity to pursue her new life.

  Someone bumped the table and she looked up. A man with red hair and ruddy cheeks looked down and smiled.

  “Sorry, I’m not quite awake.”

  She nodded and turned her attention back to the visitor guide.

  “Uh, do you mind if I sit here?”

  She glanced around the room. The two other tables were full. She nodded to him, then turned a page.

  He sat down. “You headed to St. Louis? Nice town.”

  Julia suppressed a sigh. Why did everyone want to talk?

  She closed the magazine. “No, just something to read while I eat.”

  “Bus travel is cheap, but they sure don’t waste any money on amenities, huh?”

  She met his twinkling blue eyes, feeling mildly apologetic for being so rude.

  “That’s an understatement. But it’s probably how they keep ticket costs down.”

  “So, where are you headed?”

  She narrowed her eyes, feeling her forehead furrow into a frown, but before she could respond, he stood up.

  “Never mind. You’re obviously not the friendly type.”

  He scooped up his empty wrappers and plastic cup, then gave her a curt nod. “Have a nice trip.” He turned and walked toward the trash container near the door.

  Disgusted, she closed her eyes. It didn’t seem to matter whether she talked or not, keeping a low profile seemed to be impossible. She glanced at her watch. The bus would leave in fifteen minutes and then she would have four hours to think about what she’d do next. She discarded her trash and stepped into the waiting room.

  Stephen’s voice stopped her cold.

  Horrified, Julia gazed at her husband’s face on the television screen. His voice sent the familiar stab of fear through her heart. He flew back to Oklahoma last night, after all!

  “We are, of course, devastated by her disappearance. The local law enforcement officials are scouring the area around the fairgrounds, looking for some clues as to what happened.” Stephen’s sharp features softened a little as he gazed at the camera. “Please, if anyone knows anything about the disappearance of my wife, call the police. I’m offering a hundred-thousand-dollar-reward for information that will help us find her.”

  The camera panned to a young reporter against the backdrop of the fairgrounds. “Again, this late-breaking story about the mysterious disappearance of Seattle socialite, Julia Dorsey, the wife of multi-millionaire electronics developer, Stephen Dorsey. She was last seen leaving the Grand National Morgan Horse Show at the Oklahoma State fairgrounds last evening, after telling her assistant she was going out for something to eat. When she did not return, the assistant notified Mr. Dorsey and he flew out here immediately. Police aren’t releasing any details of their investigation at this point, but there is talk that this could be a kidnapping, given Mr. Dorsey’s wealth. Mrs. Dorsey is tall and slim with brown hair and green eyes. She was last seen wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. A substantial reward is being offered for information leading to Mrs. Dorsey’s whereabouts.”

  The television screen flashed to a weather map and Julia stumbled toward the exit. In a very short while, her picture would be plastered all over the television and newspapers. The wig would help, but there was nothing she could do about her face. She climbed onto the bus and took a seat at the very back, away from the comings and goings of other passengers. She slipped on her sunglasses and slouched down in the seat, praying that the next four hours would pass quickly. Her plan had just been notched up dramatically.

  Chapter 10

  Julia stepped off the bus and shivered at the change in temperatures. The air was warm and the late morning sun was brilliant, but not brutal as it had been in Oklahoma. As she started toward the station entrance, she saw a taxi standing at the curb. She walked swiftly toward it, then scooted into the back seat and met the driver’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

  “Take me to the Sheraton, please.”

  The man nodded and the cab eased into the traffic. Julia stared out the window at the framework of downtown St. Louis. The cab drove around the block and pulled up in front of a huge building. She shook her head. She could have walked if she’d known where she was going. She handed the driver ten dollars, then stepped out onto the sidewalk. A smiling doorman headed her way and reality slapped her alongside the head. She couldn’t stay in this hotel. There were too many people, and she was sure that registering for a room would require both identification and a credit card. For an establishment like Sheraton, cash for rooms would be a red flag. She turned away from the approaching doorman. A string of three-sided shelters lined the other side of the street, with city buses arriving and leaving like ants working a colony. A large sign identified the area as MetroLink. Remembering her foray into the unsavory side of Oklahoma City, she turned back toward the hotel. It would have travel brochures and timetables, and that seemed a good place to start. She swept past the surprised doorman.

  The expansive lobby was beautiful and she longed to just get a room, lock herself in, and sleep for days. At this hour on a Friday, the place bustled with arriving visitors. The announcement board showed several conferences in the hotel, and welcomed fans arriving for a Rams football game. She walked across the lobby toward a long hallway leading to the coffee shop and restrooms. Racks of travel information lined one wall and she browsed, picking up anything that might come in handy in the next few days. Stuffing the brochures into her tote, she headed back toward the entrance. As she passed a sitting area, she noticed a newspaper lying on one of the tables. She sidled over to glance at the front page. Her stomach knotted. She was still in the news, but thankfully, no photograph yet.

  She tried to walk nonchalantly, fighting the urge to hurry and draw attention to herself. When she emerged onto the sidewalk, the doorman tipped his hat. She gave him a quick smile and hurried across the street toward the MetroLink area, resisting the urge to look back to see if he was watching her. Paranoia was beginning to take hold and, if she wasn’t careful, she’d overreact and mess up.

  Perspiration plastered her shirt against her skin and she exhaled. I’d give anything for a shower right now. She sat down and examined the bus and train schedules. From this MetroLink station, she could travel anywhere i
n the city, but where did she want to go? And how would she find a low-rent motel? She studied the bus transit map and her shoulders sagged. The map revealed nothing about the different areas of the city.

  A large, dark-skinned woman sat down on the next bench and piled several plastic bags at her feet. She fanned herself with a magazine and flashed Julia a wide smile.

  “Gettin’ hot again. Don’t much care for this Indian Summer stuff.”

  At first, Julia’s reaction was to ignore the woman, but then she realized this could be a way to get the information she needed. A complete stranger.

  Julia smiled back. “Is that what they call it?”

  “Yeah, it teases you up a little by gettin’ colder, then we get a freeze, then the heat comes back.” She shook her head. “I don’t like it.”

  Julia licked her lips, then held up her bus schedule. “I’m new here. Do you know where I can find a cheap hotel?”

  “Depends on what you mean by cheap. There’s a motel up on north Broadway that rents by the week to the construction workers. Don’t know if it’s decent, but I hear it’s cheap.” She laughed. “These days, cheap is good.” She gathered her bundles and stood up. “My bus is coming. Good luck.”

  “Thanks. Oh, one more thing. Is there a thrift shop anywhere close by?”

  “Take the Jefferson Street bus. Get off at Chestnut.” She gave Julia a long, thoughtful look, then waved and trundled off toward a waiting bus.

  Julia opened the schedule and located the Jefferson Street line. Another bus would be along in about five minutes. Fatigue crept through her body and she closed her eyes. How long before she could relax? Even for just an hour.

  Julia stopped short inside the door of the thrift shop, taken aback by the strange blend of odors, a melange of used clothing, old wood, musty paper, and who knew what else. The store was large and well-lit, and a dozen or so customers browsed through the shelves of discarded treasures. Julia checked her mental shopping list. Clothes, maybe another wig, a different tote, and anything else that might be useful.