December 10, 2017

7:30 am

Waffle House

2321 TN-46, Dickson, TN 37055

1198 miles to the border

I drove all through the night.  It was almost therapeutic, got my mind off Hannah, and the fact that Fitz and his goons were surely on the road by now, trying to hunt us down.  At certain points I couldn’t help but glance in the rearview, searching for a car following me too closely, or the flashing lights of a squad car, but none ever came, and that told me that we haven’t been discovered, so far.  Maggie slept in the back of the Toyota, next to Mack, who had finally been put into her carseat before we left the motel in Virginia.  The baby slept on and off through the night, cooing and giggling at some points, which allowed me to speak softly to her in return, and that kept me awake more than anything else.

Maggie slept straight through the night, as if she hadn’t slept in years, but I don’t blame her.  She was scared and stressed, and probably still will be when she wakes up. I never want her to feel that way again.  If anything, I should be the one burdened with stress and worry.  I should be the one that takes care of her, because she’s put it all on the line for me and my daughter.

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to do enough to repay her, but I’ll do anything to protect her.

“Mags.”  I turn off the engine and roll my head around, hearing my neck pop in five different places.  “Maggie?”

“Wha—“ She jolts upright, and I watch her immediately check the baby before giving me a wide eyed stare in the rearview mirror.  “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“No…nothings wrong.  I just wanted you to know that we’re here.  We’re about forty five minutes outside of Nashville.  I figured this would be a good place to stop.  There’s a motel across the street.  It’s pretty nondescript, but also a dump.  I figured that was what you were going for.”

She glances out her window at the huge yellow Waffle House sign looming above us, and out the back windshield so she can look across the street.  “It’s a truckers strip.  It should be fine.  Good job.” She smirks at me slightly.  

I smile back, and yawn loudly as I stretch out my arms.  “I’m cramped and starved.”

She sighs a little.  “Me too.  Let’s get some breakfast.”

Maggie changed Mack into a baby boy outfit before we left the motel, complete with a little blue ball cap.  You wouldn’t be able to tell that Mack was a girl unless you knew her, or took off her clothes, neither of which is a possibility for the people around here.  I have to admit, Maggie really did think of every possible scenario, and I’m so thankful to have her with me.

Touching her last night was rejuvenating.  I missed her, her body, the way her hair smells, how it feels in my hands.  How silky and perfect her skin is.  I missed her laugh, and the way she could hold me in her arms and make every single thing wrong with my life completely fade away.

I never want to let her go again.

Maggie pulls on her floppy hat and sunglasses, and hands me a ball cap and my own pair of shades as well.  I put them both on before we get out of the car, and Maggie gets Mackayla out of her carseat.

“Call the baby Nelson,” she tells me quietly as we walk toward the restaurant’s entrance.  “You’re Timothy Greenburg and I’m your wife, Ashley.  Those are the names I put on the passports and licenses.  Can you remember?”

“Timothy?” I scrunch up my nose.  “Mags, that’s terrible.”

“Justin, really?”

I laugh.  “I got it.  Timothy, Ashley, and Nelson.” I lean in close to her.

 “I would never name my son Nelson, just for future reference.”

“Noted.”  

She nudges me slightly, as I guide her through the door by the small of her back, and for that brief moment, I almost feel normal again.

“How y’all doin’?” 

The waitress greets us with a comforting smile, and pulls a high chair up to the edge of the table when we choose a booth at the back of the diner.  

“Just fine, thank you.”

Maggie has the most believable southern accent I’ve ever heard.  

“What a cute little darlin'.’” The waitress pinches Mack’s cheeks and she giggles, delighted.  “How old is he?”

“Seven months.”  Maggie says it quickly, not daring to glance in my direction.  

“Ya’ll know what you want to eat?”

“Coffee, and we’ll split a stack of pancakes,” I tell her.  “We just need some hot water for the baby’s bottle.”

“Comin’ right up.”  She smiles once more, and hurries away.  

“You never told me you could talk like that.” I lean in towards her and smile mischievously.

“I’m full of surprises.”  She adjusts Mack in the high chair and smiles, tickling her under the chin a little bit.  

“Can you talk like that in bed later?”

Her eyes narrow as she digs the can of formula out of her purse.

 “You’re really going to focus on that now?”

“Yes.”

“Only you.” She rolls her eyes.

“You love me.”

Her cheeks turn a slight shade of pink.  “Yeah, you’re right.”

We share a brief kiss.

Then, our precious few moments of normalcy fade away.

The sound of the television gets louder, and I glance up to see my own face staring back at me.  Another news report about us is blaring loudly throughout the restaurant, and I can see half the staff, including our waitress, watching intently.

“Fuck.”  It’s barely a whisper.

Mags glances over her shoulder, and sinks down low into the booth when she realizes what’s going on.  I follow her lead, but continue to watch the story unfolding before my eyes.  BREAKING NEWS scrolls along the bottom of the screen in large red capital letters, and the news anchor speaks about the story while the network continues to flash my picture, Macks picture, and Maggies picture across the screen.

“…missing since yesterday afternoon.  Authorities have reason to believe that Maggie Dawson, former attorney and friend to Hannah Monroe is behind the disappearance, keeping Justin and baby daughter, Mackayala Brianne, against their will. Just minutes ago, we were informed that authorities discovered a body while searching Miss Dawsons apartment building in the early morning hours, but they will not disclose further details at this time.”

Maggie meets my gaze with terrified eyes.  She doesn’t need to say anything.  I know we have to leave.

I move quickly, grabbing Mack from her high chair as Maggie slides out of her seat.

I catch the eyes of the waitress.  She’s staring at us suddenly, frozen in her place behind the counter, pot of coffee in one hand and our pancakes in the other.

She knows.

“Run.”  I hiss it at Mags.  “Maggie, run!”

She bolts out the door.  Right before I can get through I see another waitress speaking on the phone and staring out the window, writing something down on a notepad and repeating it back to whoever is on the other end of the line.  I’d be stupid if I didn’t think she was speaking to the police, and telling them the make and model of the car we’re driving, plus the plate number. 

This can’t get any worse.

Mack starts to wail as I make it through the door and out of the restaurant.  She’s starving, but it will have to wait.  I run to the car, nearly stumbling once or twice, but hanging on to my kid for dear life as I make it into the car.  There’s no time for the carseat, I’ll just have to hold onto her as best I can.

The sirens come all too quickly, distant at first, but they grow louder in seconds.

Maggie pants harshly as she turns the engine over, and then we speed out of the lot, tires screeching, nearly hitting a car that’s pulling in, but not quite.  We get out to the road, and Mackayla screams louder, because she’s frightened. 

I look back over my shoulder, and I see flashing lights in the distance. Squad cars, at least three of them, gaining on us.

“Go faster!”

“I’m going as fast as I can!”  She stares ahead intensely, gripping the steering wheel so her knuckles turn a bright shade of white.  

The speedometer climbs, 70…80…90… 

Maggie takes a sudden turn onto a dirt road as the police begin to creep closer, and it’s just in time.  She pulls the car into some tall grass and cuts the engine.  We wait, with labored breath, as the three squad cars whiz by, sirens wailing.

They’ve lost us, for the moment.

“Holy fuck, Justin.”  Maggie runs her hands through her hair and leans her elbows on the steering wheel.  

“They know the plate,” I murmur, holding Mack close to my chest as I try to calm her cries.  “I saw one of the waitresses writing it down.”

“I’ll take it off.  We can find another one.” She won’t look at me.

“They know the make of the car.”

“So we’ll get another one.”

I’m silent, for the first time, truly terrified that we could be caught in just a few hours.

“We shouldn’t have stopped for breakfast,” I say quietly.  “It’s my fault.”

“You couldn’t have known that would happen.”

“Right, but I should have been more careful.”

“It’s done.” She grunts.  “There’s nothing we can do now but regroup and figure out the next part of the plan, all right?”

“Fitz and his guys will be in this area in less than twenty four hours the minute they hear we’ve been spotted,” I say quietly.  “I say we push through and drive the next eighteen hours without stops.”

“That’s crazy with a baby to take care of.”

“But it’s logical.  If we stop, who knows how much time they’ll gain on us?”

“You know what isn’t logical? Trying to cross the Mexican border with a sick baby. I’m not going to chance it, Justin.  We’ll just have to move on to the next stopping point, and lay low for twenty four hours.  We have enough supplies to get us through without having to go to a store or order food."

She's right, and I know better than to continue to fight her on the subject.  Trying to cross the border in eighteen straight hours might work if it was just the two of us, but it's not.  Mack's needs have to come first.  That means diaper changes, feedings, and a warm motel room at night.  "I'm sorry."

"No."  She shakes her head, and smooths her hair back one more time, before sitting up straight in the seat again.  "Don't be.  That was a close call, and you have every right to be paranoid.  Let's just get Mack fed and into her car seat, so we can get on the road.  Arkansas is about seven hours from here.  We'll find a place there, and make a rest stop about halfway through the drive so we can get gas and Mack can get a diaper change."  

She reaches across me, and opens the glove box, retrieving the gun and tucking it into the front of her pants before cautiously getting out of the car again.  I hold Mack tighter to me.  She's quiet now, her tiny, rhythmic breaths letting me know that she's tired herself into a nap.  I kiss the top of her head, close my eyes, and say a silent prayer to keep her safe, and with us.  Maggie returns quickly, with a bag of food items and water.  She mixes Mack a cold bottle of formula, and even though Mack is slightly fussy about it, she takes it anyway, probably because she's too hungry to care at the moment.  

We're on the road within minutes once Mack is secured in her car seat, and we share a breakfast of Granola bars, trail mix, chips, cookies and water as Maggie drives down the interstate.  As much as we don't want to, we can't resist keeping the radio turned to national news, listening for any updates to our story.  

It doesn't take long for us to get one.

"Authorities have revealed the identity of the body discovered in Maggie Dawson's apartment early this morning.  Shelby Hudson, Justin Timberlake's personal secretary, was discovered in a basement storage area of Maggie Dawson's apartment building.  Authorities report Miss Hudson was shot in the back of the head at point blank range, and are asking any witnesses to come forward at this time."  

"Oh God."  Maggie covers her mouth, but maintains her focus on the road, despite the heavy flow of tears streaming down her face.

My body goes numb.  I stare straight ahead, jaw hanging open, not having a clue what to do.  I feel helpless.  She helped us.  She put any risk she might be taking on the back burner, all so we could get out of the city.

Now she's dead because of it.

"I...I never should have...I never should have involved her," Maggie whimpers.  "I killed her."

"You didn't." I shake my head roughly.  "We couldn't have known..."

"I put her life in danger the minute I asked her to help us!  Hannah got to her, and whether she did or didn't get the information she wanted, she killed her anyway!  She knew we would find out!"

"She thinks it will make us turn back."  I won't look at her.  I can't.  I'll lose my mind.

"Maybe we should."

I don't say anything.  Part of me wants to agree with her.  But we've already come this far.  Going back to New York is surely a death sentence for Maggie, and a life of imprisonment in Hannah's home for me and the baby.  

"What will that do for us?" I finally ask.  "I don't think Shelby would want us to turn back now, do you?"

"She wouldn't have wanted to die for us, Justin."

I stare out the window now, letting the first tears escape my eyes.  Yes, I want to blame myself.  Yes, I'd rather go back home and mourn for our friend, but I know it's not the right choice.  We still have a chance to live, to escape Hannah.  "We have to keep going, Mags.  Going back is a death sentence."

It takes her a really long time.  "Yeah.  I know that."  She sniffles and seems to pull her emotions together.  "Hannah will pay for this, eventually.  Promise me, Justin.  Promise that you'll help me fight to get Shelby justice."

I look back over at Maggie, her beautiful face is still streaked with tears, but the strength has returned to her eyes.  "I'll do whatever it takes, once we're safe.  You have my word."

She stares at me.  I can tell she wants to crumble, to curl inside herself and never come out again, but she won't do allow herself to do it, not just yet.  "I don't know how much longer I can stay this strong."

I take her free hand in mine, and lace my fingers through hers.  "So let me take over."

She presses her lips together.  "I'm so scared of what's going to be waiting at the border, Justin.  For all we know, they've already figured out where we're headed.  What if we get there and get captured anyway?"

"You can't think that way."

"But it's a strong possibility."

"We have to dump this car.  Once we do that, they'll have a harder time tracking us down."

"The only way we're going to be able to walk into a dealership without being recognized, is if we do some serious makeover work.  I'll have to cut my hair off and dye it, and you're going to have to figure out how to use those fake beards and wigs to your advantage.  It should be so Hannah wouldn't even recognize you."  She sighs.  "We'll figure it out when we get to Arkansas."  She reaches over and turns off the radio.  "I don't want to hear anymore about it for now.  I have to clear my head."
I bring her hand up to my lips and kiss it gently, trying to give her as much comfort as possible.

But it doesn't seem to change her mood at all.  

I know that no amount of affection is going to make her stop worrying now though.  It's gotten entirely too intense, and I start to feel sick thinking about Shelby.  That she gave her life to keep us safe, because I doubt she gave Hannah the information she wanted to hear.  If anything, Shelby bought us more time by keeping silent, but I know how persistent Hannah can be when she wants something bad enough.

I know she'll stop at nothing to catch up with us, or kill us, whichever one comes first.