Chapter 1

The phone dropped from her hand. It crashed against the floor and slid across the room as the cord retracted. Leslie stood, frozen, in the center of the room, for a few seconds. Her mind raced, mentally starting a checklist.

The cat brushed up against her leg, startling her. Leslie picked up the phone, placing it back in its cradle without a word. She glanced at the clock. She didn’t have much time. She scribbled a note for her fiancée telling him that she’d be back later, knowing that he’d trust her word. He had no reason not to.

She picked up Mr. Mittens, cuddled him close, and kissed him softly on the tip of his nose. “I’ll miss you.”

Leslie drove seven miles an hour above the speed limit- about as fast as she could without tempting the cops to pull her over. She glued her eyes to the speedometer to keep from thinking, and it worked, for awhile. She’d chosen the highway for the quickest escape from town, but it was so uncharacteristically deserted that Leslie felt downright lonely.

Leslie still couldn’t keep from checking the rearview mirror every few seconds, though. Surely, no one would know yet that she was gone- it had only been a few hours- but it would be morning at the latest before Jordan suspected something had happened.

The sun drew a brilliant mural across the sky as it set, and Leslie realized that in any other situation, she would have loved this drive. She opened the windows a crack, leaned back in her seat, and stretched her fingers on the steering wheel, trying to relax.

Just then, a cheesy MIDI rendition of “Ode to Joy” startled her. Her cell phone! Leslie reached into her purse instinctively, and checked who was calling. Just as she’d expected, and just as she’d feared, it was him. Leslie stared down the phone as its ring concluded once, and started again. Finally, after what felt like an hour, the jingle stopped. Leslie sighed, setting down the phone.

Did this mean he’d realized she was gone?

Immediately, her mind began brainstorming worst-case scenarios. Maybe he’d called the police, or maybe he would come looking for her. Maybe-

Another beep from the phone jarred her from her thoughts. Leslie dialed her voicemail, her fingers shaking, and strained to keep looking at the road as she listened the familiar voice.

“Hey, sweetie.” Smooth as ever, she thought. “I’m off work early, and I thought you’d be home by now. Where are you, babe? Call me back soon so I don’t worry, okay? Love you, Lee.” Leslie fought both the urge to return his call immediately, and the urge to cry. She held the phone for a moment longer, lost in her thoughts.

Leslie suddenly realized that her cell phone had an included GPS tracker. She glanced at her gas gauge, and she was nearly below E anyway. At the next exit, Leslie pulled off the highway.

After refilling the gas tank of her car, Leslie stopped at a nearby superstore. She needed supplies, and she needed them fast. First, some snacks for the road, most of which wouldn’t go bad anytime soon. Then, she quickly picked out a large floppy hat, some stylish reading glasses, a nondescript black jacket, and- with much cringing- some hair dye. Leslie’s favorite thing about her physical appearance, without a doubt, was her signature bright red hair. She loved having a distinguishing feature, and she regularly kept her hair’s length nearly at her waist.

“Dark amber brown” looked dingy and boring, but Leslie knew she needed to look boring to be unrecognizable; her fiery mane would never do. She sighed, picking up a blonde bleaching kit as well, and headed towards the checkout. After she paid, the annoyingly chipper cashier managed to point Leslie in the direction of a drop box that collected cell phones for domestic violence victims. She promptly dropped her phone inside, only later realizing the irony of the situation.

A few hours later, in a deserted rest stop’s barely sanitary bathroom, Leslie pulled out the dark hair dye and a pair of sharp scissors. She shut her eyes tightly as she cut the first chunk of hair, and a lock twelve inches long fell in the sink. Leslie continued to chop the hair at chin length, and she gave herself chunky bangs for good measure. They were a little crooked, but nothing she thought someone else would notice. Finally, Leslie dyed her hair, rinsed it as best she could in the small sink, and slipped on the reading glasses. As Leslie looked in the mirror, she was simultaneously heartbroken and relieved to look less like herself than she ever had before.