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“Tomorrow afternoon, he had to fly out to New York for a meeting.” the guard answers.
Nodding my head at him, I turn back to the house but then I remember my old motorcycle is still in the garage.
Lincoln had asked me to stop riding it. He claimed it was because it scared him to think of me getting hurt.
He must have forgotten it was there because he hadn’t mentioned it in months. It was tucked into the back corner and covered with a tarp but if I recall correctly it has a full tank of gas.
Now I had to figure out how to get me and my bike off the property. Knowing there was no hurry, I stash my bag next to my bike.
Nobody will think twice about me spending time outside since I like being outdoors, so I wander around the big yard.
There are two acres fenced in so there must be a back way out of here. On my second pass through I find the gate.
There are no guards in the back and only a chain around the gate, not even a padlock. I expected there to be. It doesn’t appear to have been used for a long time. I wonder if Lincoln even knows it is here.
I found a way out but now, I have to figure out where I’m going. Seeming to recall that Lincoln kept petty cash in his desk, I made my way back to the house.
Running upstairs to my room again, I grab an old backpack before returning to his office.
Hesitating for a moment, I took a deep breath before pushing my way back into the room where the man that I thought loved me, tried to kill me.
Just a few short hours ago I never would have imagined rifling through his desk drawers, but here I am.
At first, there is nothing to find but when one of the drawers is locked, I grab a letter opener and pry it open.
Inside is stacks of cash but the thing that has me gasping for air is the gun laying on top of the pile.
Pushing the gun to the side, I start grabbing cash and stuffing it in the backpack, not even bothering to count it.
I’m about to walk away but the gun draws me back. Knowing how to use a gun and being willing to use it are two different things.
Growing up with a cop for a Dad, he made sure I knew how to use one. Reluctantly the gun and all the ammo gets stuffed in with the cash.
Now I have my bike to get away and cash to keep myself from starving but where should I go. If only my Dad was still alive.
I thought about calling my old friend Lily, even Lincoln wouldn’t look for me at the governor’s mansion but then I remembered that Lily moved to Montana or one of those states.
Realizing that Lincoln knows people everywhere, I decide it’s better not to have a specific location in mind. Staying in one place is not an option.
I spent the last eighteen months aimlessly wandering. The longest I stayed in one location was one month, not allowing myself to become comfortable or get to know the locals.
An itch at the back of my neck, the wind blowing the wrong way, locals taking notice of me all these were my motivation for moving on. I didn’t even realize I was working my way North to Alaska until I arrived.
Low on cash, I saw the sign in the window at Poison Pen and applied for a job.
Which brought me here to Jacob Parks’ self-defense class at the ass crack of dawn.
