Read Don't Let Go for Free Online

Until now.
    “Trust me,” Teo said. “And you better hurry, she’s getting out.”
    A heavy woman in her forties was struggling to extricate herself from the Camry, like a giant worm emerging from a tiny cocoon. Peter pushed off the bench and headed toward her. She was morbidly obese, three hundred pounds squeezed into a sundress. Her arms jiggled as she tugged a large black purse over one shoulder and waddled toward him.
    Peter kept his face blank as he passed by. I’m just another driver headed to his car , he thought. Don’t pay me any mind.
    The woman’s face went stiff, though. Her lips were bright red, tinted the same shade as her hair. In spite of himself, Peter flashed back on Terri, the chipper receptionist at Pike & Dolan’s corporate headquarters who had unwittingly let him into their server room. Terri would probably steer clear of him now, too. All his clothes were the same dingy gray, the result of infrequent washes in public Laundromats. His hair was too long, and he had a three-day growth of beard. A few months ago, if he’d smiled at this woman, chances were she would have smiled back.
    Instead, she scurried to the far side of the lot, giving him a wide berth.
    Peter paused ten feet from her car. He held his breath as he activated the jammer in his pocket, waiting for the beep indicating that the Camry had been locked.
    It never came. And the woman had been in such a hurry to get away from him, she hadn’t noticed.
    “Showtime,” Teo announced, coming up beside him.
    Peter glanced around to make sure they were alone in the lot, then followed Teo to the car. He tried the driver’s-side door: unlocked. The jammer had worked, blocking the signal from her key fob. He opened the door and slid inside.
    “Here.” Teo handed over what looked like a small laptop. Peter switched it on and plugged the adapter into the diagnostic port under the dashboard. He hit a few keys, and the engine roared to life.
    “Man,” Teo said, shaking his head. “I still can’t believe that works.”
    “Me either,” Peter muttered as he slipped behind the wheel and adjusted the seat. Yet it did, at least the three times they’d tried it. A few states back—in Virginia? Or Oklahoma?—he’d stumbled across a foolproof method to hack into a car. And all it took was a hundred-dollar jamming device and the tiny laptop. The laptop had set them back nearly a grand, but it had been worth it. Originally designed for legitimate auto locksmiths, it allowed access to a car’s computerized controls once you got inside.
    So instead of breaking a window, or messing around with a jimmy, all they had to do was find a Japanese car manufactured between 2007 and 2011. Then he stood a short distance away and turned on the jammer. Car owners usually clicked their key fobs while walking away: He used to do the same, back when he owned a Prius. But the jammer blocked the signal, so the car remained open. And once they got inside, all Peter had to do was plug in the laptop, and away they went.
    He never stopped feeling lousy about it, though. Peter could already picture the woman’s reaction when she discovered her car had been stolen. Maybe she’d left something important in the trunk. Maybe there were kids waiting for her at home, or she was supposed to pick someone up later. And he’d just ruined her whole day.
    Unfortunately, they didn’t have a lot of other options. Public transportation was out, since Pike probably had people keeping an eye on train and bus lines. The same went for buying a car—too much contact with strangers who might ask questions.
    “Pull over here,” Teo said. “I’ll switch out the plates.”
    Peter eased the car into a superstore parking lot, continuing along to the back of the building. While he waited by a Dumpster, Teo grabbed a fresh set of license plates from his pack and screwed them on. Less than five minutes later, they were pulling back out.
    “They should be done by now,” Teo said.