THE FEDEX DROP BOX WAS LOCATED ON MADISON AVENUE, BETWEEN Fifty-Seventh and Fifty-Eighth Streets. The final pickup was at 3:00 p.m. Avery clutched the overnight envelope to her chest as she left the Lowell and headed south. Her gaze swept across the sidewalks and to the other side of the street, trying desperately to notice if anyone was following her or something out of the ordinary that would stop her from dropping the package off. When she came to the drop box an undefined sense of apprehension made her continue on.

She crossed Fifty-Seventh Street and entered the atrium of Trump Tower. She strode through the lobby and rode the escalator to the upper level, keeping an eye on the entrance as she did. People came and went, but none seemed the least bit concerned with Avery. At the top of the escalator, she walked to the edge of the railing and watched the entrance for several minutes. When she was convinced that no one was following her, she stepped onto the descending escalator and rode to the lobby. She walked back outside, turned right, and crossed Fifty-Seventh Street again. This time, when she came to the drop box, she quickly pulled open the slot. Just before dropping the FedEx package into it, she checked the address label one last time.

Connie Clarkson
922 Hwy 42
Sister Bay, Wisconsin
(Cabin #12)

She released her grip and the parcel fell into the darkness. Inside was the passport belonging to Aaron Holland, and detailed instructions to follow.

CHAPTER 60 - Manhattan, NY Friday, July 9, 2021

CHAPTER 60

Manhattan, NY Friday, July 9, 2021

HE MADE THE CALL LATE THURSDAY NIGHT. HE MADE IT FROM Avery’s hotel room after he and Avery had had a long, hard discussion. It covered not only what had transpired between them over the last week—the real feelings that had developed, and the sorrow Walt felt for the way he had betrayed her—but also what Avery was hoping to accomplish and how it would all work. If it would all work.

The plan now hinged on Walt, and how convincing he could be. The person he called sounded surprised to hear from him, and his request to meet for breakfast Friday morning was met with bewilderment.

“I need to see you,” was all Walt said.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“Yes.”

They settled on a breakfast place on the Upper East Side. Walt sat nervously in the booth and stirred two creams into his coffee, closing his eyes for a moment as he remembered Avery’s strange talent of noticing his coffee predilections. There was something reassuring about Avery knowing his tendencies. No woman had held details about him, intimate or otherwise, for years.