"This is fine. How much do I owe you?"
"How long you stayin'?"
"I'm not sure." Suddenly conscious of her disheveled appearance and the fact that she had no luggage with her, Grace blurted out, "I had a fight with my boyfriend. I left in kind of a hurry."
Yoda shrugged, bored.
"Twenty dollars for tonight."
Grace pressed a bill into his hand and he left. Locking the door behind him, Grace drew the curtains closed. She took off all her clothes and walked into the bathroom. Only then did she sink to her knees, lean over the toilet and vomit. When her stomach was empty, she stood up and stepped into the shower. Under the weak, lukewarm jets of water, she scrubbed at herself with the used bar of soap until her skin bled. She could still feel the man's filthy hands on her breasts, his revolting, rapist's seed on her face, in her mouth. There'd been two bottles of drinking water in the back of the van that she'd used to clean herself up as best she could a few hours ago, so as not to arouse suspicion. On the long walk here she had forced herself to focus on the shower awaiting her, on being clean. But she knew now she would never be clean again.
Drying herself off, she retched again, but there was nothing left inside her to throw up. She moved into the bedroom and sank down on the bed. It was warm in the room. Leaning back against the cheap foam pillow, Grace flicked on the TV. Her own face stared back at her. Or rather, her face as it had once been, long, long ago.
So it's public already. At least they're using an old picture. I'll have to do something about a disguise first thing in the morning, before they release a new one.
The newscaster was talking.
"In breaking news, Grace Brookstein is reported to have absconded from a maximum-security correctional facility in upstate New York. Brookstein, widow of the billionaire con man Leonard Brookstein..."
The report went on but Grace didn't hear it. She felt more tired than she could ever remember. It had been the longest twenty-four hours of her life. Sleep caressed her like the softest of cashmere blankets. She closed her eyes and let it take her.
GAVIN WILLIAMS WAS SCREAMING.
"Are you blind? This is it! The breakthrough we've been praying for. Grace will lead us straight to the money!"
Gavin Williams, Harry Bain and John Merrivale were having a working breakfast at Quorum's old offices. It was the morning after Grace's escape and the news was all over the TV and newspapers.
Harry Bain shook his head. "I doubt that. Even assuming she knows where it is..."
"She knows where it is."
"Even if she does, she won't get that far. She's got the entire NYPD looking for her. My guess is she'll be back behind bars by nightfall. Either that or some trigger-happy cop will have shot her."
"No! We can't let that happen!" It was unlike Williams to lose control, but he looked close to tears. "Grace Brookstein remains the key to this case. We must take control. We must insist the NYPD hand the investigation over to the bureau."
Harry Bain laughed. "Oh, yeah. I'll insist. I'm sure the chief of police will love that."
Gavin Williams looked to John Merrivale for support. But of course John just stared at his shoes, like the coward that he was. Furious, Williams got up and stormed out.
Merrivale said, "I know it's not my p-place to say so. But I think perhaps the stress of this case is becoming too much for Agent Williams."
Harry Bain agreed. "You're right. I'm having him transferred. Grace Brookstein has become an obsession. It's clouding his judgment. Her escape is a distraction, and we can't afford distractions."
"Exactly."
John Merrivale breathed a sigh of relief.
He wouldn't rest completely easily until Grace was captured. Or, better yet, shot. News of her escape had shaken him deeply. But today's meeting was reassuring. With Gavin Williams out of the picture, it would be even easier to lead Bain and his men in the wrong direction. Eventually they'd run out of energy, or money, or both, and call off the investigation. Then finally he would be free. Free to leave New York, to leave Caroline. A life without chains! In the end it would all be worth it.
"D-do you really think they'll find her quickly?"
Harry Bain said, "I'm sure of it. She's Grace Brookstein, for God's sake. Where's she gonna hide?"
IN HER DREAMS GRACE HEARD KNOCKING, faint but rapid and insistent, like a woodpecker in the distance. The noise grew louder, closer. She woke up.
There's someone at the door!
Jumping out of bed, she grabbed her switchblade and wrapped the bedsheet around her, stumbling toward the sound in the darkness.
"Who is it?"
"'S me."
Yoda. Grace put down the knife and opened the door a crack.
"You stayin' another night?"
The light from the corridor was blinding. Grace blinked.
"I'm sorry?"
"I said, you stayin' another night? It's noon. Changeover's twelve thirty. You ain't staying, you gotta vacate the room by then."
"Oh. No. I'm staying."
"Twenty dollars."
Grace pulled a second bill out of the wad Karen had given her and handed it to the old man. He took it wordlessly, scuttling back to his reception desk like a decrepit beetle.
Twelve o'clock! Jesus. I must have been out like a light. Grace opened the curtains, then closed them again. Far too bright. Splashing cold water on her face, she pulled on her clothes - they stank of that bastard but they were all she had. She would buy new ones today. The TV was still on from last night. Grace turned up the volume. This time the news report was on the economy. But a few moments later her face was back on-screen again, this time a mug shot from the day they brought her to Bedford. It still looks nothing like me.