As soon as the door opened I was off again, to the sound of annoyed murmurs behind me. I slowed myself as I passed the security guards by the luggage carousels, only to break into a run again as the exit doors came into view. I had no way of knowing if Jasper was looking for me yet. I would have only seconds if he was following my scent. I jumped out the automatic doors, nearly smacking into the glass when they opened too slowly.
Along the crowded curb there wasn’t a cab in sight.
I had no time. Alice and Jasper were either about to realize I was gone, or they already had. They would find me in a heartbeat.
A shuttle to the Hyatt was just closing its doors a few feet behind me.
“Wait!” I called, running, waving at the driver.
“This is the shuttle to the Hyatt,” the driver said in confusion as he opened the doors.
“Yes,” I huffed, “that’s where I’m going.” I hurried up the steps.
He looked askance at my luggage-less state, but then shrugged, not caring enough to ask.
Most of the seats were empty. I sat as far from the other travelers as possible, and watched out the window as first the sidewalk, and then the airport, drifted away. I couldn’t help imagining Edward, where he would stand at the edge of the road when he found the end of my trail. I couldn’t cry yet, I told myself. I still had a long way to go.
My luck held. In front of the Hyatt, a tired-looking couple was getting their last suitcase out of the trunk of a cab. I jumped out of the shuttle and ran to the cab, sliding into the seat behind the driver. The tired couple and the shuttle driver stared at me.
I told the surprised cabbie my mother’s address. “I need to get there as soon as possible.”
“That’s in Scottsdale,” he complained.
I threw four twenties over the seat.
“Will that be enough?”
“Sure, kid, no problem.”
I sat back against the seat, folding my arms across my lap. The familiar city began to rush around me, but I didn’t look out the windows. I exerted myself to maintain control. I was determined not to lose myself at this point, now that my plan was successfully completed. There was no point in indulging in more terror, more anxiety. My path was set. I just had to follow it now.
So, instead of panicking, I closed my eyes and spent the twenty minutes’ drive with Edward.
I imagined that I had stayed at the airport to meet Edward. I visualized how I would stand on my toes, the sooner to see his face. How quickly, how gracefully he would move through the crowds of people separating us. And then I would run to close those last few feet between us — reckless as always — and I would be in his marble arms, finally safe.
I wondered where we would have gone. North somewhere, so he could be outside in the day. Or maybe somewhere very remote, so we could lay in the sun together again. I imagined him by the shore, his skin sparkling like the sea. It wouldn’t matter how long we had to hide. To be trapped in a hotel room with him would be a kind of heaven. So many questions I still had for him. I could talk to him forever, never sleeping, never leaving his side.
I could see his face so clearly now . . . almost hear his voice. And, despite all the horror and hopelessness, I was fleetingly happy. So involved was I in my escapist daydreams, I lost all track of the seconds racing by.
“Hey, what was the number?”
The cabbie’s question punctured my fantasy, letting all the colors run out of my lovely delusions. Fear, bleak and hard, was waiting to fill the empty space they left behind.
“Fifty-eight twenty-one.” My voice sounded strangled. The cabbie looked at me, nervous that I was having an episode or something.
“Here we are, then.” He was anxious to get me out of his car, probably hoping I wouldn’t ask for my change.
“Thank you,” I whispered. There was no need to be afraid, I reminded myself. The house was empty. I had to hurry; my mom was waiting for me, frightened, depending on me.
I ran to the door, reaching up automatically to grab the key under the eave. I unlocked the door. It was dark inside, empty, normal. I ran to the phone, turning on the kitchen light on my way. There, on the whiteboard, was a ten-digit number written in a small, neat hand. My fingers stumbled over the keypad, making mistakes. I had to hang up and start again. I concentrated only on the buttons this time, carefully pressing each one in turn. I was successful. I held the phone to my ear with a shaking hand. It rang only once.
“Hello, Bella,” that easy voice answered. “That was very quick. I’m impressed.”
“Is my mom all right?”
“She’s perfectly fine. Don’t worry, Bella, I have no quarrel with her. Unless you didn’t come alone, of course.” Light, amused.