It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see her; she was the reason he was headed north and east from Atlanta. She might be the only person who could understand why he had to make a run for it. Let’s be honest, that’s what this was—an escape plan—a full-blown sprint to find freedom. Later. He would call her later. With the Sullen’s Grove exit two miles behind him, Evan eased into the next convenient store he spotted on the side of the road. His legs could use another stretch.
A woman selling peaches at a makeshift produce stand smiled at him as he pulled the brim of his baseball cap firmly over his eyes and popped the cover on the gas tank. He didn’t think she recognized him. At least, she hadn’t reached for a cell phone. Her attention was on restacking a basket of peaches that had fallen too far forward.
He felt the tension ease out of his shoulders. He leaned against the blue Jeep that had become his travel companion only ten hours ago. It didn’t matter that he had paid too much for it. Fifteen thousand dollars cash in exchange for freedom was a bargain. Hopefully, the extra money would be enough to keep the seller from sharing the exchange to the tabloids.
The lever clicked on the gas hose handle. Evan retrieved the nozzle and slid it back into place on the pump. By now, the peaches were perfectly stacked. He sauntered over to the stand.
“What can I get you?” The older woman had shifted her task from stacking peaches to separating a sack of snap beans.
He eyed the rows of blueberries, peaches, and a carton of okra. “What do you recommend?”
The white-haired woman adjusted her visor. “You don’t sound like you’re from here.” She cocked her head.
“No, ma’am, I’m not.” He swallowed hard, waiting for the inevitable—an autograph and a selfie shot request. He would have to work on camouflaging his accent. It wouldn’t be the first time he had disguised his deep Texas drawl.
She leaned over the table separating her from Evan, and placed the side of her hand against her cheek to shield the words from any eavesdroppers. “If you won’t say anything, I won’t say anything.” Her forehead furrowed. “These peaches are from South Carolina. We say everything’s local, but it’s not.”
Evan feigned shock and winked at the lady. “Your secret is safe with me.” He reached for one and tossed it in the air. “So, I guess I’ll take some of those illegal South Carolina peaches.”
“Good choice.” She placed a basket on the scale and scribbled the weight and price on a receipt. “That will be six dollars.” She picked up each peach and placed it inside a paper bag.
His wallet was halfway around his hip when he remembered all he had was one hundred dollar bills. “I—uh—do you take hundreds?” He pulled one of the crisp bills from his wallet. The plan was to use only cash, that way no one would see his name on his credit card or ask for his ID. Total anonymity was the game.
“For a basket of peaches?” The woman looked at the currency as if he had tried to pay with yen.
Evan smiled, realizing the predicament they were both in. He hadn’t bothered to bring anything with him other than a duffle bag and his phone. The longer he stood there, the more he wanted to try one of those infamous peaches. Sure, he was only twenty yards from the convenient store, but he wasn’t about to undo all of the hard work that had gone into perfecting his sculpted form for a bag of greasy chips.
“How ‘bout this, darlin’? You keep the change, and I’ll take two baskets of peaches.” He placed the bill next to the register.
“Oh, I can’t take that.” The pitch in her voice climbed an octave.
Evan didn’t give her a second chance to argue. He grabbed another basket, dumped the fruit into the paper bag, and strolled back to the Jeep. He cranked the ignition and maneuvered onto the highway, giving the produce lady a wave.
The Jeep was headed east. Now that Sullen’s Grove was in his rearview mirror, Evan wasn’t sure where the road would take him. Eventually, he would run out of road—the ocean was just hours in front of him. He reached into the paper sack and seized the first peach. As he bit into the soft, fuzzy fruit, a trickle of juice ran down his chin. He wiped the nectar from his face with the back of his hand. Settling his athletic frame into his seat, he felt the resemblance of a smile creeping across his lips. Something about not having a destination felt better than having one.
The night’s darkness wrapped the air and sank into every open space. Other than a few blinking lots on the horizon, it was dark. Evan rolled his shoulders up and back. All the muscles in his arms were tight from twelve hours of driving. The ferry ride was advertised as fifty-five minutes long, so he stepped from the Jeep and strolled to the side of the vessel loaded with cars.
He had made the last voyage of the night. The ferry service stopped at midnight. He intended to stay in the last coastal village he found at the southern tip of the Outer Banks, but when the road ran out, the waterway could take him one more leg. The extra distance was like the last drink he couldn’t turn down. He needed it.