Lorraine had no idea where she was going. She only knew that she had to get as far away from the stranger as possible. Maybe he knew who she really was, but she was too terrified of him to find out. There was no one she could trust now that Bettina was . . . was . . .
Lorraine realized she had turned into a deserted street. Exhausted, she huddled in the doorway of a wholesale fabric shop and buried her face in her knees. She cried long and hard, thinking of the kindly homeless woman who had been like a mother to her these past days. Bettina had been strange, but she’d really cared about Lorraine. The child had sensed that from the start, and had felt marginally safe with her. Now she had no one, no place to go.
Something dripped on her head—water from an air conditioner. Sucking in a deep, shaky breath, Lorraine stood up and looked carefully up and down the block. She was alone. She kept to the shadows as she moved on, afraid someone might pass by and take notice of her. The little girl was too tired to run; the suitcase had grown heavier somehow. She knew she’d have to find a place to spend the night, but where? Could she hide out in a big box the way Bettina had that first night? Or could she stay hidden in another doorway?
The answer came to her at the next corner. She suddenly found herself looking at a brightly lit building. People were coming and going from it at a busy pace. There were all kinds—younger and older people, even kids. Not as young as herself, but young enough. Lorraine saw a crowd she could blend into and, with a surreptitious look behind herself, crossed over to the Port Authority Bus Terminal.
Lorraine had found a way to get out of the city, but as yet she didn’t know where she was going. She passed a bagel stand and realized she was hungry. Carefully she reached into the pocket of her red sweater and pulled out a handful of change. She went up to the counter and bought a cinnamon-and-raisin bagel and an orange juice.
The man behind the counter was big and black, with a mouthful of crooked teeth that flashed a bright smile at her.
“You sure are a big lady to buy that all for yourself,” he said.
Lorraine thought quickly. “It . . . it isn’t for me. I’m sharing with my daddy.”
The black man nodded.
“A little snack for the road, huh?” he asked.
Lorraine did not get a bad feeling from him, but still she didn’t want to talk to anyone.
“Uh, yeah,” she said. “My daddy’s waiting for me. ‘Bye!”
“Where are you headed?” the man called out.
Lorraine ignored him. Where, indeed? She found a place to sit, careful to choose a seat beside a sleeping man in case the bagel man looked up and saw her. Then, opening the orange juice and unwrapping the bagel, she looked up at the night’s schedule: Teaneck, Bayonne, Elizabeth; the names meant nothing to her.
She took a bite of the bagel, but hardly tasted it. Suddenly the room around her seemed to grow blurry. Voices grew louder, but all masked together, so that individual words were incomprehensible. Out of it all, deep inside her mind, came the familiar voice of a boy.
Marty! Where were you?
I . . . They were busy with me. I’m sorry, Lorraine. Are you okay?
I’m scared. Bettina is dead!
Oh . . .
And a strange man is after me.
Don’t let him catch you, Lorraine. He’s dangerous. Something very bad is happening here, and he’s part of it. You have to get out of that city.
I don’t know where to go.
You have to come down to Jersey. Atlantic City is as close as you can get to me tonight. Buy a ticket for that line.
What do I do when I get there?
We’ll figure it out then. But, Lorraine . . .
Yeah?
You can’t open that suitcase full of money in front of all those people. You might get robbed by a mean person, or a nice person might tell a transit cop.
Lorraine hadn’t considered this. She realized how close she’d come to making a terrible mistake, and her heart began to flutter.
It’s okay. I’m here to help you now. Find a bathroom and take the money out in there.
Lorraine did as she was told. She stood up and began to search for the ladies’ room, finding one just past a row of ticket booths. The stalls were completely enclosed, right down to the floor. It made it easy for her to hide.
Take out five ten-dollar bills. That will give you more than enough for a ticket.
I’ve got it.
Then go buy your ticket. No, buy two tickets. It’ll throw them off the track. You’re too young to travel alone.
What do I do with the other ticket?
Just leave that up to me. Go on, get in line.
Lorraine headed for one of the ticket booths. She tried to look as if she belonged there, as if she wasn’t scared to death.
A loud conversation cut into her thoughts.