“What if you remove the tracker?”

“I don’t want to. We need to see if we can find who put it on my car. This is an opportunity we can’t ignore. But that means coming to you is out. We’re going to have to set up a meet in town. I’ve got a go-bag for you, and I withdrew a thousand dollars from an ATM tonight. Tomorrow morning I’ll take out another thousand on my way to work.”

“Two thousand in cash?”

“Yes. That won’t be enough, and it’s not what we agreed on, but it will get you out of town and far enough away that your photo won’t be in the news. I’ll figure out how to get you the rest. I’ll also be getting your new ID delivered sometime tomorrow.” He paused. “We need to set up a meet where you can drive straight in, pick up the package, and then leave right away. Somewhere public and easy for us both to get to but with enough space for privacy.”

“Grant Park,” she said.

“Where the zoo is? I haven’t been there yet.”

“Yes, and the Oakland Cemetery is close by. The park has over a hundred acres with plenty of places to meet, and it gets busy when the weather is nice—there are plenty of chances for anonymity. It’s also accessible from downtown.” She added, almost wistfully, “It’s quite beautiful in the summer.”

He thought it over. He could leave his car somewhere, catch several Ubers quickly in a row, meet her to deliver the package, and make his way back to his car. “That will work. Where do you want to meet inside the park?”

“I think one of the pavilions will do.” She described the area while he made a mental note.

He told her, “I’ll text you when to meet me. Do something to pin up your hair or pull it back. The photo they used on the news tonight was with your hair down. I bought you a baseball cap. It’s in your go-bag.”

She had looked beautiful in the photo as she laughed at someone off camera, but she looked beautiful in all the photos he had taken. He didn’t think she could take a bad shot.

He should delete them from his phone, but he hadn’t. And he knew he wouldn’t.

“Thank you.” The expression in her voice turned complex. “It feels like I’ve been treading water for so long, but I’m really leaving tomorrow.”

“Yes, you really are leaving,” he replied quietly. “I’ve got to go. Talk to you tomorrow.”

She hesitated, but then all she said was, “Good night. And thank you again for everything.”

“You’re welcome, Molly.”

Before she could say anything else, he disconnected.