MURDER TAKES TIME

Chapter 52

Where to Now?

18 Months Ago

I was third off the plane, and immediately went to the flight status list for departures, checking the gates for Chicago. As I headed in that direction, I called Gina’s phone. She answered on the first ring, whispering. 

“Nicky?”

“You shouldn’t be answering that way.”

“Sorry. I’m so scared.”

“Walk calmly from wherever you are and go to the main ticketing area for United.”

“I’ll have to leave security.”

“I know. I’ll meet you there. Walk slow, but steady. If anyone bothers you, scream.”

I hurried to the ticketing area and stood just outside the exit, close to United’s counters. I watched as she exited, checking to make sure no one followed, then walked up behind her and grabbed her arm, risking a slight cry.

She gasped, but not bad. “Just me,” I said. “You did good.”

She threw her arms around me. “Thank God you’re here. I was so scared.”

I breathed her scent in heavily before I pulled back, afraid to continue holding her. I hadn’t realized attraction was this strong, or maybe it was just so long since I’d held any girl. God help me, I thought as I stared at her. 

“Stay scared. This is far from over. We have to get out of here.”

“I feel safe now. They wouldn’t—”

I grabbed her by the shoulders, shook her. “Listen. We’re not safe. We’ll never be safe.” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “This is the mob, Gina. Our only hope is to stay hidden.”

She composed herself. “Where are we going?”

I grabbed her arm and headed for the exit. “We’re going to do what they least expect—get a rental car and drive somewhere.”

“Where?”

“Cincinnati, at least for now.”

“Chicago’s a lot bigger.” 

“No. Tito’s got lots of friends in Chicago. Got some in Cincinnati, too, but not as many. Besides, we can be there in less than two hours, and I need someplace to sleep.”

We took a cab to long-term parking, rode back on the bus, then took another bus to the National rental car facility. After that we hopped on Interstate 74 and had a straight shot to Cincinnati. Once we got going, I pressed her about where to live. She was tense and didn’t respond well to pressure. 

“I don’t know,” she said. “I can’t think about it now.”

“You need to think. There are a lot of places we can’t go. Obviously not New York. And not Philly, Boston, Baltimore or DC. Chicago is definitely out. Same for Pittsburgh, St. Louis, Kansas City, San Francisco, Florida—” 

“Is there any place we can go that’s decent?”

“That leaves plenty of choices. “Denver, Houston, Phoenix, San Diego, Dallas, Seattle, Minneapolis, Portland…”  

“This is bullshit. I can’t live in Minnesota.”

She was pissing me off, but I tried to be nice. “Me neither. Too damn cold. And too wet in Seattle or Portland.”