Swanson, Peter - Nine Lives by Swanson Peter

Author:Swanson, Peter [Swanson, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2022-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

8

Tuesday, September 20, 1:03 p.m.

Fischer, driving north along Route 1, reached the outskirts of Rockland, Maine, and turned his Equinox around in the parking lot of a fish shack. He was about to start driving south when he decided that he should put some food into his stomach, even though he wasn’t particularly hungry, and call Brandon back to see if he’d gotten any more information on where Jessica Winslow might be hiding out. Brandon was another one of Fischer’s colleagues whom he knew only as a voice on the phone and an undoubtedly fake first name, but ever since he’d started working as a gun for hire, Brandon was the man to call for information about his quarry. Fischer thought of Brandon as the reference librarian of his particular profession.

He’d never been in Maine before, so Fischer, to mark the occasion, ordered a lobster roll, even though it was twenty dollars. He was asked if he wanted mayonnaise or butter, and because of his hesitation, the young pretty girl said, “How about both?” and he agreed.

It was cool outside, the sky threatening rain, but Fischer sat at one of the picnic tables. There was a single bar on his cell phone. He called Brandon.

“If she’s on the run,” Brandon said, “there’s no one in that part of Maine that I can find who has any connection with her.”

“What about Maine in general?”

“One of her friends lives in Portland, Maine.”

“What kind of friend?”

“Don’t know exactly. It’s just someone she friended on her defunct Facebook account. A Jay Anderson. He’s a barista. It’s all I’ve got.”

“Okay, thanks.”

After eating his lobster roll—better with the melted butter was his amateur opinion—Fischer looked at his map app. It was clear that Jessica Winslow knew she was being targeted and had gone on the run. Whoever wanted her dead had someone tail her, and at some point, along Route 1, they lost her. It had probably been a single tail, so it wasn’t surprising that they’d let her get ahead of them, especially being on a major road. But then they would have sped up, tried to catch up with her, and if they hadn’t spotted her again, she had probably veered from Route 1. She could have gone inland, of course, but Fischer thought it made more sense that she would have turned onto the St. George Peninsula. It was where he would start to look. It wasn’t exactly a small peninsula, comprised of three villages, but it had only one major road. Fischer decided to focus on the cottages and houses closest to the shore and look for her car. Jessica Winslow was upper-middle class. If she were looking for a place to hide out, she’d borrow one of her friend’s summer places. It made the most sense.

Fischer drove onto the peninsula. There was farmland on either side, interspersed with wooded areas, some of the leaves already changing colors. The farther he went, the foggier it got. When he first saw the ocean, all he could see was the dark rocks and white foam of the shore.

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