Thomas Perry - Runner

Jane sat on a chair in the nearly bare waiting room for an hour and a half, watching the other visitors. Most of them were women, some with babies or toddlers, others apparently mothers whose babies had grown up and gotten convicted of federal crimes. At nine, and then at ten, a man announced that he was the Visitation Duty Officer, then called names from a list on a clipboard and let the visitors into the visiting room. When the man called the name Jane was listening for, she stood up and followed the Duty Officer into the room, where the Visiting Room Officer showed her to a seat at a long counter.

Across from Jane was a man in his fifties with graying hair cut short and a khaki uniform. On his feet were a pair of white socks and plastic sandals. When he saw Jane he stared at her in shock and disappointment. His mouth gaped open.

Jane stepped quickly to him, her arms extended. "Bobby, give me a hug." She glared at him. "I've missed you so much."

"You're—"

"Really glad to see you. Christine wishes she could come, but today it has to be just me."

The man allowed her to throw her arms around him. She held him tightly in that awkward position with the counter between them and whispered, "Christine asked me to do this." She sensed that the guard was moving in their direction, so she released him and sat down across from him. The guard moved off.

Jane said, "I'm sorry to be so insensitive to your feelings. I pretended to be Delia because it was the only name besides Christine's I knew you would have put on your list of visitors at intake."

"And you knew that nobody here would ever have seen her," said Monahan.

"I guessed, after what Christine told me about her," she said. "I'm sorry."

"Where is she?"

"Christine is in a situation now that won't allow her to be here and visit you. We both felt that we had to get word to you somehow that she still loves you very much. She isn't dropping you or forgetting about you or feeling any different about you. She simply can't be near here, or come to visit."

"How long will that be?"

Jane hesitated. "I don't know. It might be for a few months, or it might be years."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure how much you know already. She was in love with her boss, Richard Beale."

"She's talked about him. You said 'was in love.' What happened?"

"I'm not sure of everything. She got pregnant. She decided not to tell him, just to leave."

"What do you mean? Why wouldn't she tell him?"

"She hasn't told me every detail. But I get the impression he wasn't treating her well. She was afraid of him, and she was beginning to admit to herself that a lot of his business deals had a suspicious side to them. He was also paying some creeps to handle unpleasant problems for him, and that scared her. She could see the relationship wasn't going to end well if she stayed, so she didn't."

Robert Monahan had put his head in his hands right after he had heard the word "pregnant." He looked up. "Where is she now?"

"She's safe."

"Where?"

"She's far away from here, and she's well and safe. I can't say where right now."

"Why did she want to be hidden? Is he stalking her or something?"

"It's more than that. He sent his six creeps to find her and drag her back to San Diego. They're very—" She saw the Visiting Room Officer was about to pass close to them. "—and then I said to her, 'If you don't like the neighborhood, don't buy the house. You can't remodel the neighborhood.'" Then the officer was out of earshot. "These are not people you want to have find your daughter."

"But what does Richard want? Why send people like that after her?"

Jane looked at him in silence for a few seconds. "That part isn't what I do. I haven't got any smart theories to tell you. Maybe he's afraid she'll tell the police about something she saw at work or at his house. Maybe anything. I don't try to psychoanalyze men like him. I teach people how to run away from them."

"My God," he said. "What can we do?"

"What I did was take her from a place where people were trying to harm her to a different place where nobody knows her. I promised her I would find a way to tell you so you wouldn't think she suddenly didn't love you or that she had dropped off the face of the earth. Now I have." Jane stood up.

"Wait," said Monahan. "Don't go yet. What happens when I get out? How do I find her?"

"When you're out you can write me a letter. They won't let me hand you any paper. It's Post Office box 96919, Chicago, Illinois 60637. Can you remember it?"

"96919. 60637. Yes."

"When you write, just give me a phone number, and I'll let you know how she is. If it's safe by then, we'll arrange something."

"Is she going to have the baby?"

"Yes. And she's planning to keep it. I don't know the sex, but he or she is healthy. Christine has medical care and money and a safe place to live. After it's born, I'll move them again and give them new names, so there won't be any chance of tracing her through birth records or anything like that."

"Will you tell her I love her?"

"Sure. But she already knows it. I'll tell her you're okay."

"That's accurate enough. Mostly tell her I love her, and whatever she does, I'm on her side."

Jane looked around her again, then into his eyes. "I'm going to have to tell her again that getting in touch with you would be stupid."

"I know you'll have to say that."

"I just had to be sure."

A few minutes later the Visiting Room Officer began calling names. After each, he would say, "Your time is up. Please leave by the door at the back of the room." When he called "Monahan," Jane and Robert Monahan stood. She held out her arms to him, and they shared another awkward embrace. "Sorry it was only me," she whispered.

"If I forgot to say anything, will you tell her I said it?"

"Of course I will. Take care, Robert."

They had to end the embrace, and Monahan stood and watched the tall, dark-haired woman follow the Visiting Room Officer to the door on the other side. He never blinked, just took every moment of the sight of her into his memory. As the door closed he sent her a silent benediction, really only a fervent hope that the strength he sensed in her would be great enough to keep Chris safe from harm. Then he turned around to face the other door, where the corridor took him back into his prison.

16

Jane stepped out the front door of the prison and walked toward her rental car. It was just before eleven, and the day was beginning to heat up as the haze that had drifted in from the ocean during the night burned off, and the sun reasserted its intensity. Jane took the sunglasses out of her plastic purse and put them on. She liked the morning fog that settled over central California during June and July. She acknowledged that it was probably because every time she had been here, she had been trying to keep from being noticed, and the glaring sun that prevailed most of the time had always made her feel vulnerable.

She got into her rented Cadillac and drove out to Klein Boulevard, the road she had used to reach the prison. She glanced in the rearview mirror and saw other cars pulling out of the lot, but she was preoccupied, thinking about Robert Monahan. She knew she should have been more definite with him. If the four people who were still looking for Christine were any good at all, they would know her father was in Lompoc. He was the only person that Christine was almost certain to try to reach. It might never be safe for Robert Monahan to see his daughter, and Jane should have been clear about that. She had been intending to tell him that his greatest comfort was going to be knowing that his daughter was safe and wasn't doing anything foolish. But when Jane had thought about the fact that he had six more years, she had decided to say something less harsh and less certain. In six years things could change all by themselves. Richard Beale could be run over by a bus, and his four hunters could all be in jail.