Ring of Lies (62 page)

Catherine tapped her fingers on the desk, and looked anxiously over her shoulder.
‘
What? Oh, a vacation… yeah, that’s right.
’

The clerk clicked keys brightly. Suddenly he hit the space bar.
‘
Sorry. The system’s kind of
slow today. So where you from?
’

Great, a
nosy one. Think, Catherine. Where am I from?
‘
Kansas,
’
she said, knowing no more about it than any other state.

The clerk scratched his chin.
‘
Never been there myself.
’

Thank you, God
.
‘
So do you have anything available?
’

‘
Ah…
yes. We’re up and running now,
’
he beamed.
‘
Yep. I’ve got a compact. A real steal. I have a two door Chevy Aveo for $110 a week plus insurance. That is unless you’ve already got a car. We can tag it on your policy, so that reduces the weekly rate somewhat.
’

‘
No. I don’t. Does it have air conditioning?
’

He looked stunned.
‘
Yes…
well, of course, ma’am. We don’t rent cars without A-C. I don’t believe anyone does, come to think of it.
’

‘
Oh, sure. Guess I’m just a little tired—jet lagged, you know how it is. And I don’t rent cars often.
’
She mentally counted the hu
ndred dollar bills in her purse. R
enting the car would take most of her cash, but driving was the
quickest way to get to Miami
.
‘
I’ll take it.
’

‘
Of course,
’
he said.
‘
I’ll need to see your drivers’ licence and a credit card please.
’

Heart pounding, she turned away.
Breathe slow and deep
,
this is the easy bit compared to getting through immigration
.
‘
I’d prefer to pay cash.
’

‘
I’ll still need to see a credit card.
’

Her hand trembled as she slid back the zipper on her purse and pulled out her wallet. She let out another long breath and placed her licence and the fake credit card on the counter.

The clerk tapped the pink licence with a fingertip.
‘
This is a British Licence.
’

Catherine forced herself to remain calm. She squared her shoulders and looked directly at the clerk, giving him a radiant smile.

‘
Is that a problem?
’

‘
You said you were from Kansas.
’

Anxious to escape from the clerk’s probing questions she settled for
half-truths
.
‘
I’ve been working in London for a couple of years. I’ll re-apply for a US licence once I get settled in my new job.
’

‘
Just checking. You’d be surprised how many people try to rent cars with false or out of date documents.
’

Colour
flooded her cheeks, but thankfully the clerk was too busy tapping away at his keyboard to notice.

‘
Sign here.
’
He pushed the rental agreement across the desk. She hastily added her signature.

‘
Okay, you’re all set. Enjoy your stay in Atlanta.
’

‘
You can count on it.
’
Catherine snatched up the keys and marched through the terminal to the parking garage.

Outside the rental agency, she doubled over and took a few deep breaths, feeling like an exhausted long-distance runner.

Another hurdle overcome.

Too many more to go.

She jogged down the lanes until she spotted her rental. It was small, grey, and entirely uninspiring. She opened the right side door and slid in, only to
realize
her mistake. Hoping that no one had seen her gaffe, she squeezed over the hump in the middle, including the
gearshift
, tucking her long legs under the steering wheel.

Her skin felt clammy, and her body ached. Exhausted, she pressed both hands over her eyes and tried to scrub away the weariness. The relentless travel had taken its toll. All she wanted to do
was stretch out in a king-size
bed and sleep for a week, but
she
had to reach Miami by morning.

She opened her purse and took out a small bottle of pills. Working as a sales executive for a pharmaceutical company meant she had access to all sorts of drug
s
amples
. She flipped open the top with her thumb, shook out one of the pills, and rolled it in her palm.

One tiny
capsule
would keep her awake for another twenty-four hours. But she already taken two and swallowing another one would be risky.
Reluctantly,
s
he popped it back into the bottle and replaced the cap.

She
inserted the key into the ignition and stepped on the accelerator. The little engine responded with a tinny growl. She put the car into gear and drove out of the parking lot.

An accident on the slip road of the
I
nterstate leading south cost her thirty minutes while she waited for a tow truck to clear
away the damaged vehicles
. Once
free
of the accident, she kept rigidly to the speed limit. No point drawing attention to herself this late in the game.

After five hours, her body screamed with pain, her eyes burned with fatigue. Ahead lay miles and miles of near empty highway. She leaned back against the headrest and felt her neck muscles relax
, t
he rhythmic hum of the tyres strangely comforting. Her eyelids slowly drifted lower and lower.

A truck roared by, the blare of its horn startling her awake. She threw the wheel to the right, the Chevy swerved out of the truck’s path. A few more inches to the left and she would have been killed instantly. Body shaking and covered in sweat, she pulled on to the shoulder, and rested her head on the wheel.

Five minutes passed before her heartbeat returned to normal, and she felt able to
move. She fumbled in her purse
and took out her cigarettes, dropping them twice before she finally stuck one between her lips. Her hand trembled so much that it took her several attempts to light it. She shuddered the smoke into her lungs.

The clerk at the rental agency had given her a map. She unfolded it and tried to work out exactly where she was. She remembered passing a gas station some miles back, but didn’t recall seeing any houses. Two cars roared by, rocking the small rental, making
her gasp. One thing was
certain—
she couldn’t stay where she was.

Catherine stepped out
of the car. She rubbed her arms
unsure whether it was the cool night air making her shiver or her near death experience with the truck. Empty and drained,
she knew that eight hours sleep
in a comfortable bed, would lift her weariness.

With a long sigh, she climbed back behind the wheel. She cranked the A-C up to full
with the hope that it would
keep her awake and set off once more. Half an hour later, she crossed the state line, and drove into a small town. A cluster of houses lined one side of the main street, the other bordered the railroad. A quarter of a mile further on, she came
across
a billboard advertising the name of a motel.

She pulled in and drove up to the manager’s office. Greasy haired and unkempt, the woman behind the desk was huge. Catherine instantly regretted her decision to stop, but with so little cash in her purse she had no choice but to stay in this run down and seedy motel.

‘
I’d like a room, please.
’

The woman tapped the sign on the wall.
‘
No hookers here.
’

Momentarily rebuffed, Catherine lowered her gaze in confusion.
‘
I’m not… Oh! You mean my clothes. I’ve been to a party and I’m too exhausted to drive home,
’
she lied.
‘
I’ll be gone in the morning.
’

The fat woman looked her up and down and grunted.
‘
Just one night, but that’s it. Number four. Down the drive, second block on your left.
’

Catherine counted out five
ten-dollar
bills and collected the key. If the outside of the motel looked run down, the inside of the room looked as if it hadn’t been touched in over fifty years. She dragged her suitcase inside and locked the door. A single light bulb hung from the ceiling, casting a yellow glow on the peeling walls. The scent of damp, filthy carpet and old cigarettes pervaded the air. The carpet stuck to her feet, and in places appeared threadbare, while the floral comforter on the bed smelled of mothballs and made her think of old ladies and charity shops. She pulled it back to reveal yellowed wrinkled sheets.

A deep rumble rocked the room as a train ran along the track behind the
building
. Smothering a sob, Catherine freed her blonde hair from the black wig, dropping it in the
trashcan
, then kicked off her shoes and collapsed onto the bed.
How had she come to this?

She gulped hard and wiped her eyes. Too tired to undress, she dragged the quilt over her body and was asleep within minutes.

‘
How long do we have to stay here?
’
Grace whispered.