Cassie has packed and repacked her suitcases but still hasn’t left the motel. Staring at the digital clock between the beds, she can hear it ticking inside her head, as though challenging her to make a decision.
Spencer’s backpack is tucked beneath his bed. Is that even his real name? How did he get those scars on his head? She pictures the violent force and feels something shake loose inside her.
Scarlett is watching Dora the Explorer on TV, lying on her front with her chin resting in her cupped hands. She’s seen all these episodes before but still gets excited. Maybe kids like knowing what’s going to happen next.
Cassie grabs the backpack and begins going through the pockets, unzipping compartments and searching. She finds a notebook and takes it into the bathroom, closing the door and sitting on the toilet with her dress forming a hammock between her knees. She opens the book. A photograph flutters out. Cassie picks it up from the tiled floor. It shows a young woman, dark skinned and beautiful, holding a bouquet of flowers. Cassie feels a stab of jealousy and can’t understand why.
She slips the photograph between the pages, hard against the spine, and goes back to the beginning. There is a name written on the inside of the front cover: Audie Spencer Palmer. Below there is a price sticker and a label saying, Three Rivers FCI.
The pages are full of handwriting that is small and spidery and difficult to read. Cassie struggles to comprehend more than a few sentences. It looks and sounds like poetry with phrases like “perceptions of the truth” and the “pathos of absence,” whatever that means.
Taking out her cell phone, she consults a torn page that she ripped from the telephone directory. A woman answers and seems to be reading from a script:
“Hello, you’ve reached Texas Crime Stoppers—all calls are confidential. My name is Eileen. How can I help you?”
“Do you offer rewards?”
“We provide financial remuneration for information leading to the arrest and charging of a felony suspect.”
“How much?”
“That depends upon the seriousness of the offense.”
“How much could it be?”
“Five thousand dollars.”
“What if I knew the whereabouts of an escaped convict?”
“What’s his name?”
Cassie hesitates. “I think he’s called Audie Spencer Palmer.”
“You think?”
“Yeah.”
Cassie glances at the locked door, having second thoughts.
“Would you like to give me your name?”
“No.”
“Audie Palmer has a federal warrant out for his arrest. Tell me where you are. I can get officers to come and get you.”
“You said this call was confidential.”
“How are we going to pay you the money, if we don’t know your name?”
Cassie pauses.
“What’s wrong?” asks Eileen.
“I’m thinking.”
“You’re in danger.”
“I’m gonna have to call you back.”
“Don’t hang up!”