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where I had purchased a few necessities. Clothes, a couple of pairs of shoes, a very tacky makeup kit, some jewelry, bandanas, and a couple of hats. Mike had always said rule number one was to keep it simple. Black clothing and the lurking through the darkness were out. For one thing, it was too predictable. For another thing, it was a moot point.
    Too many things were simply not in my immediate power to change. T he little things, like my name and my car, for example. I paused and turned my eyes to the sky in a silent prayer. I supposed I could have stolen a car and found a wig shop but, like I said, once I left the country the hiding would stop. John had enough information to figure out that I would go to Africa ; I hoped he didn ’ t know where. No, I assured myself, if he knew where then I wouldn ’ t have been necessary at all. I felt a chill as I looked up the number on the extra-large steel door in front of me. 42. This was it.
    My hand shook badly as I tried to fit the key into the lock , which wouldn ’ t have been so bad except that it caused the half dollar sized rhinestones on the gold bracelet to catch the sunlight and damn near blind me. I cursed and forced myself to calm down. I am safe for the moment , I told myself. There were no men with semi-automatics waiting for me on the other side of that door.
    I peeked over my shoulder one final time before shoving the door open and leaping inside. I shut the door behind me and nearly jumped out of my skin when I quickly realized there was no light switch and I didn ’ t have a flashlight. You would think I would have kept one in the car. After all , most people do.
    At any rate, I was forced to leave the door open. I sent up another silent prayer of thanks as I looked around the large room. Even through the dim lighting it was easy to see that the place was immaculate , or as immaculate as stacks of boxes could get. Either way, I was grateful. I walked around the unit twice before I found the box marked ‘ Dishes ’ buried in the back under three other boxes.
    My arms ached and I was seriously re-evaluating the wisdom of the pencil skirt I had changed into at the gas station, my second stop. The plan was to ‘ hide out in the open . ’ I had figured that clothing and accessories I wouldn ’ t normally wear were a good bet. I ’ d decided to leave my hair alone. Never in my life had I been so grateful to have light brown hair that was medium length. Had it been ultra-blonde or red I probably would have ended up dying it —more time that I couldn ’ t spare.
    I smiled as I kneeled down in front of the box with the worn tape , with ‘ Dishes ’ neatly printed in bold black marker. In high school I had died my hair ultra-blonde , or at least I had tried — it wasn ’ t as easy to pull off as it look ed . I remember ed that I had ended up looking ultra-cheap instead. My efforts had also been rewarded with chemical burns on my scalp. But those days had long since passed and I had accepted that I was on the plain side. Well, a little better than plain , I thought, preening a bit as I tore open the cardboard top on the box and rummaged through the contents. Either way, the fact that nothing in particular about me stood out like a sore thumb was a definite plus. I knew that I was out of my depth and needed every advantage I could scrounge up.
    I grabbed the large platter at the bottom of the box and carefully turned it over. There, taped to the bottom, just as Mike had promised, was a bronze looking half circle with several grooves on it.
    “ Huh , ” I contemplated as I carefully turned it over in my hand s . The thing felt heavier than I had expected. Despite its age, it also felt incredibly sturdy. But I had expected it to be more…ornate? To find it plain and tarnished was kind of a let-down .
    “ Honestly, Claire, of all the things to be let down by right now , ” I mumbled to myself. Great, now I was talking to myself too. I all but ran back to my