Bad Karma

dog.

“What?” he asked, his voice conveying shock and panic and a number of things she didn’t think she could deal with at the moment.

“I need to get Premonition.”

There was a long silence. Then Beau said, “Does he have to go? I thought he could stay with me for a while. He likes it here. He sleeps on the end of my bed-and yesterday I bought special dog dishes for his food and water, and even a mat to put underneath, with paw prints on it.”

As he spoke, Cleo’s heart sank. Daniel had been right. She shouldn’t have let Beau keep the dog, but she’d had no idea they would become so attached to each other in just a day or two.

“He’s happy here,” he said.

He’s happy here. It was true. Premonition was happy there. He’d taken to Beau immediately.

“Can I keep him? Just a few more days?”

Cleo swallowed and gripped the receiver tightly. “Yes,” she said, her voice tight, tears threatening. “Yes, you can.”

She hung up then sat on the edge of the bed staring at nothing. Beau and Premonition adored each other. And Cleo lived a nomadic, unstable life, with no real place to call home. At Beau’s, Premonition could have a home, a routine, a big backyard, and all the attention he wanted. And Beau would have a friend who would return that unconditional love.

They were made for each other.

Outside, a whistle blew.

A train. And a train meant train tracks. She would leave her suitcase behind and follow the tracks to the nearest town where she’d catch a ride to…somewhere. She’d figure that out later.

If she sat there another second, she’d change her mind about Premonition.

In a flurry of activity and no deep thought, she stripped down to her bra and panties, then slipped on a black knit top and pulled on a loose pair of jeans. Over that went a flannel shirt.

While she knew nothing of covert operations, she’d seen enough movies to know if she wanted to leave town without causing a stir she’d need a disguise. She didn’t want to attract attention, she just wanted to slip away without notice.

Worried that her hair might attract attention, she tried to tuck in under a green University of Oregon cap. It wouldn’t fit. She remembered the scissors she’d borrowed from Daniel.

She whacked off her hair just above the shoulders, trying to ignore the chunks dropping to the floor. Finished, she stared at her reflection in the murky bathroom mirror. Her hair was ragged, the left side shorter than the right.

What had she done?

First Premonition, then her hair. Was she losing her mind?

Don’t think, she told herself. Just act. She shoved her remaining hair under the cap. In the bedroom, she rolled up a black skirt and stuffed it in her bag.

Before leaving the room, she opened the door a crack and checked to see if anyone was around, then she slipped from the room. Jamming her hands deep into the front pockets of her loose jeans, she adopted a head-down posture, walking with long, loose strides, so anyone seeing her would think she was a teenager just bumming around.

She headed straight for the train tracks, intending to follow them to the nearest town.

As she walked, the parallel rails disappeared into shimmering heat waves. Sun beat down from above, baking her inside the flannel shirt. Her scalp, under the cap, began to sweat and itch.

It took less than an hour to reach a town called Shanghai City, and in that time Cleo didn’t see a soul. Fortunately, the tracks ran behind a gas station on the edge of town, and she could see what looked like restrooms on one side. She left the tracks, sliding down a gravel incline. Ducking under welcoming shade trees, she crossed the blacktop parking area and slipped inside the door marked Women, locking it behind her.

It was a small, square room with a single toilet and a deodorizer so strong it burned her eyes. At the sink, she splashed cold water on her hot face then cupped her hands for a drink.

She turned off the water, kicked off her sandals, and shed her baggy jeans. With the cement cool under her bare feet, she wiggled into the black skirt, then slipped her feet back into her sandals. Dressed, she removed her cap, pulled her hair back, applied makeup, then checked her reflection in the cloudy mirror.

Not great, but okay. She shoved her disguise in the trash container. Then, with her bag slung over her shoulder, she left the restroom to follow the sidewalk to the front of the gas station.

“I’m looking for someone to give me a ride to the St. Louis airport,” she announced as soon as she stepped inside.

The space was occupied by three teenage boys, and from the way they were looking at her, she guessed they would have helped her for nothing, but she made an offer. “I’ll pay a hundred dollars, plus expenses.”

All three clamored for the job.

They ended up drawing straws plucked from a broom.

“I could close up for a few hours,” the one who’d drawn the shortest straw said forlornly, not wanting to be left out.

“You lost,” one of the other kids said. He shook his keys and grabbed his can of pop and cigarettes in preparation for departure. The two winners scrambled to open doors, shooting each other dark looks they thought Cleo wouldn’t catch.

The driver’s name was Chad, his friend’s name was Jed. Chad ended up having an El Camino, which meant no backseat. Sitting in the middle, air conditioning blasting between her legs, cigarette smoke choking her, Cleo asked, “How far to the airport?”

Daniel banged on the door of room number six. No answer.

He gave up and walked to the lobby to find Willie.

Daniel was a cop, so Willie naturally disliked him.

“Cleo Tyler. The woman in number six,” Daniel said. “Know where she is?”

“Nope.”

“Have you seen her recently?”

“Nope.”

“Gimme a key to her room.”

“Can’t do that, man.”

“Gimme a key.”

“You got a search warrant?”

“Just give me the fucking key.”

“Okay, man, but I don’t like doing anything illegal.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Daniel strode back to Cleo’s room, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. He was hit by the stench of greasy French fries and body odor. What a dive. Near the door, under the window, the air conditioner clanked away as if taking its last breath.

No Cleo.

Her suitcase was on the floor where it had been the day before. On the foot of the bed was a long gray tank top kind of thing he figured she slept in. In the bathroom, Daniel turned on the light. On the floor, under the sink, he spotted a pile of red hair. He picked it up and moved it between his fingers.

Back in the lobby, he drilled Willie.

“You say you haven’t seen anything of Tyler today?”

“Yep.”

“That’s funny, because I could have sworn I saw both of you downtown at the bank.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot about that.”

“After you came back, did you see her leave the motel?”

Willie pointed over his shoulder. “She headed that way. Up the tracks. Dressed like she didn’t want anybody to