Read Online Remember to Forget by Deborah Raney - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Deborah Raney
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done it already.
She scrambled to her feet and shook the kinks from her legs. The oxygen she breathed in cleared her head and brought her to her senses.
I am not going back. Ever. She didn’t care if she died homeless and alone. She’d been handed the gift of freedom on a silver—well, a tarnished— platter, but valuable all the same. She was going to grab on to it and never let go.
But for now, she needed a place to hide out.
No.
She whipped around, searching for the source of the voice, then realized it hadn’t been an audible whisper. Her mind must be playing tricks on her.
But she had heard that word. She was certain. And the thought that followed was as clear as if someone had breathed it in her ear: Keep moving. Get out of this city. Keep heading west.
An eerie urgency overtook her, and she started walking. She followed the sidewalk, keeping the sun at her back. Half an hour later she came to a small convenience store. She hesitated at the door, leery after what had happened yesterday, but this place had a mom-and-pop feel toit. It drew her inside the same way the inaudible voice had drawn her westward.
She wandered down the aisles, searching for something to eat that would fill her up and stick with her for a minimum of cash. She chose an oversized PayDay bar and a bottle of chocolate milk. Waiting in line at the checkout, she snagged a large bag of popcorn. The sign said the expiration date had passed, but it was on sale for ninety-nine cents and would provide a couple of days’ worth of filler. The price on a bag of beef jerky was almost three dollars, but it made her mouth water and she added it to her stash.
She’d probably gain three pounds eating all this junk. Kevin will have a fit . She nodded to herself and corrected her tense. He would have . If he’d known. But he would never find out. Not now. Just one more reason she needed to get away.
Her turn came in the queue, and she placed her items on the counter. But before she counted out the money, a note tacked to the bulletin board behind the clerk’s head caught her eye.
Greyhound—Fare to Salina $45.
She tipped her head. “Where is Salina?”
The clerk followed Maggie’s line of vision. “Oh . . . that? It’s three, maybe four hours up the interstate. You just missed the early route. Next bus doesn’t leave until twelve-thirty.”
“It’s in Missouri?”
“Salina? No, Salina’s in Kansas.” He pronounced it with a long i . Suh-line-uh.
She liked the sound of it. And it was in Kansas. Kevin would be more likely to search for her in Siberia than in Salina, Kansas.
“I’d like a ticket for that bus, please.”
“Oh, we don’t sell tickets here. You’ll have to go to the bus station.”
“Where is that?”
He looked past her and pointed through the windows at the front ofthe store. “That’s Eleventh Street. Runs east and west. You want to go west . . . maybe five or six blocks. It’s on Troost Street. You can’t miss it.”
“You want to go west,” he’d said.
It had to be a sign. She thanked him, paid for her items, and walked to the street. Excitement welled up inside her. Something was going to happen. She felt it in her bones.
Alarm rose in her throat when the vehicle slowed, lurched, then started backing toward her.
Chapter Twelve
T he Greyhound ground to a stop at the west edge of Salina, Kansas. Judging by the short trip around the outskirts of the city, it was a small town. Weary and feeling as if she were painted in dust, Maggie waited until the other passengers got off before she gathered what was left of her popcorn and made her way down the narrow aisle.
At the door, she peered over the bus driver’s shoulder, thankful that his watch had a giant face. Almost four o’clock. She hadn’t bothered to put her watch on before she’d left the apartment. Over the miles since then, she’d learned to be unobtrusive in reading other people’s watches.
The asphalt practically sizzled through
She scrambled to her feet and shook the kinks from her legs. The oxygen she breathed in cleared her head and brought her to her senses.
I am not going back. Ever. She didn’t care if she died homeless and alone. She’d been handed the gift of freedom on a silver—well, a tarnished— platter, but valuable all the same. She was going to grab on to it and never let go.
But for now, she needed a place to hide out.
No.
She whipped around, searching for the source of the voice, then realized it hadn’t been an audible whisper. Her mind must be playing tricks on her.
But she had heard that word. She was certain. And the thought that followed was as clear as if someone had breathed it in her ear: Keep moving. Get out of this city. Keep heading west.
An eerie urgency overtook her, and she started walking. She followed the sidewalk, keeping the sun at her back. Half an hour later she came to a small convenience store. She hesitated at the door, leery after what had happened yesterday, but this place had a mom-and-pop feel toit. It drew her inside the same way the inaudible voice had drawn her westward.
She wandered down the aisles, searching for something to eat that would fill her up and stick with her for a minimum of cash. She chose an oversized PayDay bar and a bottle of chocolate milk. Waiting in line at the checkout, she snagged a large bag of popcorn. The sign said the expiration date had passed, but it was on sale for ninety-nine cents and would provide a couple of days’ worth of filler. The price on a bag of beef jerky was almost three dollars, but it made her mouth water and she added it to her stash.
She’d probably gain three pounds eating all this junk. Kevin will have a fit . She nodded to herself and corrected her tense. He would have . If he’d known. But he would never find out. Not now. Just one more reason she needed to get away.
Her turn came in the queue, and she placed her items on the counter. But before she counted out the money, a note tacked to the bulletin board behind the clerk’s head caught her eye.
Greyhound—Fare to Salina $45.
She tipped her head. “Where is Salina?”
The clerk followed Maggie’s line of vision. “Oh . . . that? It’s three, maybe four hours up the interstate. You just missed the early route. Next bus doesn’t leave until twelve-thirty.”
“It’s in Missouri?”
“Salina? No, Salina’s in Kansas.” He pronounced it with a long i . Suh-line-uh.
She liked the sound of it. And it was in Kansas. Kevin would be more likely to search for her in Siberia than in Salina, Kansas.
“I’d like a ticket for that bus, please.”
“Oh, we don’t sell tickets here. You’ll have to go to the bus station.”
“Where is that?”
He looked past her and pointed through the windows at the front ofthe store. “That’s Eleventh Street. Runs east and west. You want to go west . . . maybe five or six blocks. It’s on Troost Street. You can’t miss it.”
“You want to go west,” he’d said.
It had to be a sign. She thanked him, paid for her items, and walked to the street. Excitement welled up inside her. Something was going to happen. She felt it in her bones.
Alarm rose in her throat when the vehicle slowed, lurched, then started backing toward her.
Chapter Twelve
T he Greyhound ground to a stop at the west edge of Salina, Kansas. Judging by the short trip around the outskirts of the city, it was a small town. Weary and feeling as if she were painted in dust, Maggie waited until the other passengers got off before she gathered what was left of her popcorn and made her way down the narrow aisle.
At the door, she peered over the bus driver’s shoulder, thankful that his watch had a giant face. Almost four o’clock. She hadn’t bothered to put her watch on before she’d left the apartment. Over the miles since then, she’d learned to be unobtrusive in reading other people’s watches.
The asphalt practically sizzled through
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