Prologue
Did she have all she needed? The young woman looked around, took a quick glance into her closet and then into her suitcase. Yes, apparently there was nothing important left to pack. She closed her suitcase quickly and lifted it from her bed, pulled it to the corridor of her flat. Again she looked around. She gulped. She wasn't sure (remove) at all, when she would enter her flat for the next time. Maybe it would be a few weeks, or months, or days. She might even not return at all. She didn't even know if it was a good idea to leave this flat. Once more she went through all of the rooms. All of the plugs were pulled, the backups too. She could go.
Taking a deep breath she opened the door and pulled her suitcase through it, her shoulder bag dangling with every step she made. After she locked the door, she stowed the key in her bag and left the building.
The cab waited outside, and the driver lifted her case into the trunk while she took (place at)-change to: a seat in the front passenger seat.
"To the airport," she said brusquely, not looking at the driver.
He stepped on the gas and the car rapidly approached the airport. As they arrived there, she squeezed the money and a small tip into his hand, lifted her suitcase out of the trunk by herself and rushed into the hallway.
___________
Two hours later she sat in her window seat in the plane, tucking her shoulder bag under the seat in front of her. She looked out of the window. Her family would have declared her as insane if she had told the truth about her sudden trip to Washington. Well, she had told the truth, just not the whole truth. Her mother wouldn't understand. But, then, she doubted that her mother even understood any of the decisions she had made in her life.
She took a deep breath and tried to relax a bit, but it wasn't really successful. He was a murderer. The young woman shook her head. That couldn't be. He wasn't a murderer; he was too kind and too timid to resort to violence at all. She gulped. No, he wasn't a murderer. And she would prove it. Never mind the expense, she would prove it. (Well, she wasn't stupid, if she hadn't a clue yet, she wouldn't sit in this airplane and wait for its start. She sat here 26 times before and every time she had been smiling. I don't quite understand what you're trying to say here.) Actually, it meant something like a little vacation for her to sit here and fly away. But this time it wouldn't be a vacation. And this time there wouldn't be somebody at the airport to pick her up.
The words of the stewardess fell upon deaf ears. They were always the same words for the every flight. But this wasn't just any other flight. This time it wasn't at 5 o'clock on Friday afternoon. It was Monday, 6 o'clock in the morning and the rain had begun to drum against the windows. Over the next two hours, the plane would fly the 592 miles from Montreal to Washington DC. She leaned back. It would be the right decision. She wouldn't regret it later. She would help him. He was her priority. The plane droned as it lifted off. She closed her eyes and let the sound lull her. Zack.
