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Not seeing them as we pulled into a row of other cabs, making their way in many different directions, I said the first thing that came to mind.
“New Jersey.”
The driver looked back, brow raised. “You sure about that?”
No.
God, no.
But Neeley would expect me to stay in the city, right? Turn over every rock until he found me?
There was no reason to assume he would search New Jersey. Not so quickly anyway. Not before I could formulate another plan.
“Yes.”
“Gonna be eighty, hundred bucks.”
“That’s fine,” I insisted, reaching into my fanny pack to show him some cash.
“Alright,” he said, nodding.
“Um, how far is that?” I asked, still ducked down in the seat, holding Storm’s leash tight, so he had no choice but to stay low as well.
“Twenty minutes or so to Newark,” he said.
Newark.
I didn’t know much of… anything about New Jersey, but I felt like I remembered someone saying Newark wasn’t the best of areas.
Not that it mattered.
I wasn’t planning on moving there.
I just needed somewhere to regroup, to figure out my next move.
“That good?” he asked in that brusque, impatient tone I was getting accustomed to most people in the city speaking with. Not unfriendly. Just not exactly conversational either.
“Yeah. That’s perfect, thanks,” I said, trying to calm myself down.
I slowly sat up straighter, letting Storm do the same.
“You just having me dump you on the street?” the cabbie asked a while later, making my head whip away from the window where I’d been watching a street of graffiti-tagged buildings pass me by.
I was pretty sure I didn’t want to be on the street in this neighborhood.
“Sorry, do you know if there are any, uh, motels around here?” I asked.
He let out a long-suffering sigh, reaching for his cell phone, and typing with one hand as he kept driving, letting the meter run.
“Yeah. One around the corner. Pet-friendly,” he added as he tossed his phone.
“Perfect. Thank you,” I said, even if I was inwardly cringing at the idea of a motel I hadn’t researched myself to make sure there weren’t bed bugs or bad reviews about filth.
But, really, what other choice did I have? I would run out of money sooner or later with the meter just ticking away.
The driver hit it as soon as we pulled up to the motel, saving me a few bucks as I handed him the hundred, thanked him, and made my way toward the seedy-looking motel.
It was the kind you would find on the side of a highway, a place people went to have affairs, or truckers crashed when they didn’t want to sleep in their trucks.
