Thomas Perry - Runner

Cecilia Randazzo didn't want to live in the sort of building that housed a lot of undergraduate students. They would be too noisy, stay up too late, have too many parties. She wanted an apartment in a complex that catered to married students in their late twenties and thirties, or families, if they were quiet and well behaved.

She found a very desirable three-bedroom apartment not far from the university. The manager was a native-born Texan in her fifties with perfect silver hair named Mrs. McGowan. She said, "Of course we'll try to be sure you're happy, dear. But every single one of our tenants is an imperfect, living human being, so once in a while they do make a peep or two." But Jane's feigned fussiness made her appear to be the ideal tenant, so Mrs. McGowan was eager to get her to sign a lease. The building was occupied, Mrs. McGowan assured her, almost entirely by junior faculty members, joined by a few very quiet graduate students. As Mrs. McGowan showed her the crown molding along the ceilings and the tiles in the bathrooms, Jane was looking at other features that mattered more—the thickness and solidity of the doors, the quality of the locks, the view of the front door from above, the line of sight that would allow a tenant to see who was in a car parked on the street in front of the building. There was a garage under the building with a steel grate that closed after a tenant's car entered, so nobody ever had to walk from a lot to the door in the dark. Jane was pleased, so she said she would consider the apartment.

She walked around the complex, then drove back once in the evening, once late at night, and once in the morning to see what the neighborhood was like. The area had none of the signs that would have worried her. There were no groups of young men on the street with nothing to do. There were no loud parties in the nearby buildings, no abandoned cars or unoccupied houses on the surrounding streets. The nearest stores were big supermarkets—t here was a Winn-Dixie just a few blocks away—banks, or the sort of stores that attracted students—Gap, Abercrombie & Fitch, Banana Republic, Urban Outfitters. Another half mile on and there were a Target and a couple of office supply stores. And there were lots of women in evidence from early morning until fairly late in the evening. That was always an important sign. If a neighborhood wasn't safe, women were always the first ones to disappear.

Jane signed a lease as Cecilia Randazzo, and stayed a few more days in Austin. She had a fairly clear idea of the styles and colors that Christine liked, based on their shopping trips in Minneapolis, so she bought a few necessities. She hung curtains that would ensure Christine's privacy and make the apartment look occupied, then bought many of the same items she'd bought for the apartment in Minneapolis: a bed, a dresser, a crib and changing table, a dining table with four chairs, pots, pans, and silverware. She spent a day buying small appliances and a television set. Another day she went out and bought a couch, a couple of matching chairs, some bookcases and lamps. She didn't want Christine to arrive exhausted with a baby in her arms and find a place that was empty and inhospitable, but she didn't want to deny Christine the chance to personalize her apartment, so as soon as the place seemed comfortable, she stopped shopping.

She slept in the apartment for the next three nights to be sure she had not missed something, and ran in the early mornings to become familiar with the neighborhood, as she had in Minneapolis. She spent the rest of each day learning about the city—where Christine might find a job, places to take the baby, ways of getting around, and places to avoid. At the university she picked up brochures about admission and university employment. At the Chamber of Commerce she picked up more leaflets on local businesses and attractions. She stored everything in a box for Christine.

On each of the three evenings, Jane went out looking for trouble. She walked alone to restaurants and bars, movie theaters and clubs, trying to find the places where bad things happened to people. And at the end of each excursion she made a point of walking back to the apartment late at night, using herself as bait to bring out any danger she had not detected. When Jane had satisfied herself that she had done everything she could, she confirmed her return ticket from Austin to Chicago, and bought a new ticket for the trip from Chicago to New York City. It was time to make her way home.

Jane traveled carefully. She arrived at the Austin airport an hour before the flight with only a carry-on shoulder bag, went through the security checkpoint, found her gate, and waited in the nearest ladies' room until she heard an announcement that her flight to Chicago was boarding. Then she stepped across the concourse diagonally and onto the plane. She had chosen the identity of Rebecca Silver-man for flying home, because it was one of the solid old identities she had grown herself, and she had not used it during her travels this year. The driver's license had been renewed twice, and the credit cards were nearly as old. She had been submerged and invisible for a month, but she was rising close to the surface again, where being noticed was dangerous.

She got off her plane in Chicago, then waited for her flight to New York. She studied faces without seeming to, picked out the places where she could wait without attracting attention. She never left the areas where only ticketed passengers were allowed, and where everyone had been through the metal detectors and sniffers. She knew that security systems weren't unbeatable, but they made it much more difficult for anyone who was watching for her to harm her when they met. As she made each step closer to Buffalo, she knew the likelihood increased that someone would be waiting. She had arranged to fly into New York City on a different airline, so if someone ever found out what flight she had taken, the record would only show that she'd boarded in Chicago. It wouldn't show that she had begun her trip in Austin, Texas.

When the plane had almost reached New York it was directed to go back and complete a big circle that took it as far as Syracuse before it was allowed to land at Kennedy. Jane was tired of being locked in an airplane, and when the seat belt sign went off, she was glad to stand up in the crowded aisle while she waited to step out into the accordion tunnel that had been joined to the plane.

When her turn came she walked along the tunnel in quick strides, feeling better as the crowd thinned out. She stepped into the terminal and time seemed to stop. The tall, bony man with dirty blond hair and skin that was roughened by a long-gone case of acne looked like Brent Ketter. Jane focused on the eyes, and saw that they were already focused on her, because he was recognizing her, too.

It was a nightmare she'd had so many times that it didn't seem quite real now. She looked away and kept walking at the same brisk pace with the other passengers who had been freed from the Chicago flight. She knew there was no chance he had missed her. He had been standing just to the side of the gate staring at each face as the passengers moved past him. The only advantage Jane might be able to salvage was to make him think she had not seen him. If he tried to stay far back out of her sight, it might buy her enough time to lose him.

She tried to remember what she knew about him from twelve years ago. For Ketter hunting people was a business, so he had never worked alone. Before he moved in on anyone, he would be sure he had the quarry outnumbered and at a disadvantage so he could make a safe capture. Tonight he would probably follow her at a distance while he used his cell phone to call the friend or two he had waiting outside. Ketter couldn't have a weapon in an airport, but whoever was waiting outside could.