With a new driver’s license? Or with me behind bars for at least two to five?
District Attorney Mitchell:In what capacity did you interact with the defendant?
Ravi Patel:I work at Hertz, in car rentals. I leased her a red convertible BMW M8 on a monthly deal.
District Attorney Mitchell:Was there anything unusual about her interaction with you?
Ravi Patel:She seemed to be afraid of something, constantly looking over her shoulder. We were concerned, my boss and me. It’s very unusual for someone to lease a high-end car like that on a monthly basis, and she behaved as if she was running from—
Defense Attorney Blake:Objection, Your Honor. Speculation.
Judge Thomas Antunez:Sustained.
9
The DMV
For about five hundred bucks, anyone can get their hands on a scannable yet very much fake driver’s license. It would be top-notch quality, but still fake. Like with everything else in the world, there are levels. A hundred bucks was about the going rate for a get-teenagers-into-bars kind of fake ID. Any cop would spot that one, even in the dark.
Those weren’t for me.
I was willing to pay and risk it all for a real one. Issued by the Las Vegas DMV, no less. Able to withstand any law enforcement scrutiny, because a copy of it would be nestled in all the right databases, making my new identity legal.
As with the merciless game of roulette, getting a real ID without any supporting documents was a risky gamble and required a lot of work hedging my bets. Walking into that government office was never easy, but by now, I knew how to mask the anxiety. Knew how to steady my breath, square my shoulders, and act like I belonged. Still, the familiar rush of adrenaline pulsed through me, sharpening my focus, tightening my muscles. I couldn’t afford hesitation. That was what got people caught. Even knowing that, a flicker of doubt coiled in my gut—one mistake, one wrong move, and this could be the end of who I was. Theend of my freedom, at least for a while. With a deep breath, I pushed the thought away and kept walking.
The cab pulled to the curb in front of the huge DMV building. It was much larger than I’d anticipated. The size made me nervous, and I wondered how I could maneuver my way into landing at the right counter.
“Here okay?” the New Yorker asked, his hand reaching toward the meter.
“Keep it running for another moment, if you don’t mind, and let’s pull into the parking lot. I’ll walk from there.”
“You sure?”
“Yep.” I looked around for any signs of trouble as he turned around and drove into the parking lot, choosing one of the closest spots available. There was nothing. No Jack. No police cars anywhere, ready to pounce on me and drag me away in cuffs. Regardless, a strong sense of unease chilled my heart, like a bad omen that refused to let go.
Opening my purse, I checked the envelope I’d prepared the night before. It included my full name on a yellow sticky note, the ARIA hotel receipt with the room number circled in black ink and the wordsMailing Addressscribbled in my handwriting, along with the address of a furnished home in Henderson that I’d put a deposit on without even seeing, in a printed screenshot from the realtor’s email. The final item was a small memory drive loaded with crypto, in compensation for the new driver’s license. Only that, in the wrong hands, could get me thrown in jail.
If I offered the money, that is.
But even if the money was requested, I could still walk away if things went south.
Or so I’d been told.
I got out of the cab and filled my lungs with air, slowly, then held it in for a few seconds. Breathing out just as slowly, I felt calmer, stronger, ready to conquer the day. I paid the cabbie and walked toward the entrance.
“Hey, you forgot your change!” he called after me. I waved him off without turning my head, busy scanning the facade and the people coming and going for any sign of trouble, any indication I should turn around and walk away from what I was about to do.
Then, I froze.
Jack was there, leaning against the wall in a section where the pergola cast alternating lines of shade and sun. His cold gaze dared me to keep coming, but I did it anyway. There was no turning back right now. If I ran from him in this moment, I’d have to keep on running all the way to the airport and leave Vegas forever, and with it, all my future plans.
Trying my best to mock indignation and hiding my fear behind it, I kept on walking toward the entrance, staying in defiant eye contact with him. Would he stop me? There, under at least two surveillance cameras? Why would he?
No one knew what I was about to do. No one except username DocsMaster93 on the Shadow Exchange marketplace, where we’d agreed on the terms of our transaction. I didn’t even know if DocsMaster93 was a man or a woman.
Or an undercover cop, setting me up.
Was Jack DocsMaster93? Stalking me since he’d learned I had secrets worth paying a small fortune to bury under a new identity? How much did he know? I’d given DocsMaster93 my name online; he could’ve started there, and the article had given him my location. That scenario explained how he’d known I’d come to the DMV. I’d made an appointment for this date and time, at this precise location.
