Chapter 3

Rapp. Rapp. Rapp.

Leslie’s body awoke with a jolt. Someone was knocking at the door. She reached on the nightstand for something- anything- to protect herself if necessary. Apparently her options were the phone, the phone book, or a pen.

Another knock. “Housekeeping!” a voice called, feigning a cheerful attitude with little success.

Leslie allowed herself to breathe, slowly. “Come back later, please!” she called, getting out of bed. She noticed she’d only been asleep a few hours, so she put the “Do Not Disturb” sign outside the door. Leslie was sure to relock the door, and the deadbolt, before stumbling back to bed.

Her heart was still racing, but luckily Leslie was sleepy enough that it was only a few minutes before she drifted off again.

Leslie finally got up in time for dinner at Denny’s. She was relieved that her waitress from that morning was nowhere to be seen; hopefully the woman was home, asleep. Leslie would have liked to get on the road again, but she didn’t think it was very smart. She didn’t have much money with her, and stopping to withdraw some from an ATM or using a credit card would give away her position. She’d have to conserve as best she could until she felt it was safe to stop and get a job somewhere. In the meantime, she wasn’t about to waste the money she’d spent on a hotel room by leaving twelve hours earlier than she had to. Especially when she was still exhausted.

Leslie finished her meal with a cup of regular coffee, hoping the caffeine would help her stay awake for a bit. She had a few things to take care of in the evening. After all, she’d now been gone almost an entire day, and Jordan was sure to have contacted the police. She looked different enough with glasses and a drastic change in hair that she probably wouldn’t be recognized, but Leslie couldn’t perform the same sort of transformation on her car. She stopped at the front desk of the hotel to ask Andre about local car dealers; as before, he possessed a wealth of knowledge more than qualified to satisfy her needs. Leslie’s reluctance paled in comparison to her resolve to escape, and she followed Andre’s directions to the small town’s used car dealership.

“Oh, well, can I get you a deal!” the man gushed, looking over her beautiful Mustang. The man’s words were syrupy sweet, but she knew better than to trust him. Jerry (as in “just call me Jerry, and I’ll get you in a car today!”) looked the part of a seedy car salesman far too well. His plaid suit coat was slightly wrinkled, and his unnaturally dark comb-over was so stereotypically sleazy that it had nearly made Leslie laugh out loud when she first saw him.

Leslie chose a sensible sedan that was still new enough that she was only slightly worried about it breaking down on the next block. Besides, she could use the extra cash from the trade-in of her beloved car. The silver car looked just like many others on the road, and the allure of anonymity was weighting on Leslie more with each passing hour.

She signed the paperwork, cringing at Jerry’s giddy grin, and drove back to the Caribee Inn for the night.

Bright and early, Leslie dressed and packed up her things. She’d slept for the better part of a day, and she was finally rested and awake. She had eaten a few good meals, and traded in her car to hopefully make herself slightly less traceable. Finally, she ate a few complimentary donuts in the lobby of the hotel while watching the news on TV and glancing through a newspaper. Somewhat relieved of her paranoia, Leslie bid farewell to Andre and checked out of the inn.

She settled into her new car- it didn’t feel right, yet, but perhaps after a full day of driving. The night prior, Leslie had looked over a few maps, and she continued driving away from ‘home’ as fast as she could.

She flipped the radio on, and smiled when a familiar old tune sang across the airwaves. A split second later, Leslie’s lips stretched taut, stiffening as she remembered the last time she had heard it.

Leslie and Jordan had been on their way to a spontaneous camping trip, and Jordan had been driving. When he recognized the song on the radio, Jordan had cranked up the volume and started dancing as he drove. He sang along animatedly, and Leslie joined in, laughing and flailing, before realizing that the passengers in the car beside theirs were staring.

Leslie, a bit embarrassed, giggled and pointed out their audience to Jordan, but he only took his performance up a notch. He played air guitar with such fervor that Leslie half-wondered if she should grab onto the steering wheel herself, but Jordan somehow managed to keep the car going straight even while seamlessly switching between air instruments and singing to match the familiar song. Leslie had laughed until her stomach ached.

Leslie couldn’t help but think of Jordan now. He was likely pacing around their apartment, alternating between calling her cell phone number and the number of anyone who he thought might be able to help him. He’d be frustrated with the police, who would treat this like any normal case and refuse to help him until Leslie had been missing a full twenty-four hours. He’d be running his hands through his hair, frantically wondering where she might be.

Jordan would never think that she had left of her own volition, and it pained her heart to think of him. Leslie didn’t want to miss him, but she did. Already. She quickly scanned for a new radio station and tried to think of something- anything- but Jordan, but he was firmly lodged in her thoughts, and didn’t appear to be leaving anytime soon. Leslie drove on, haunted by the memories of her fiancée and the dreams of life with him that she’d never fulfill.