Chapter 44

The couple were asleep under the covers, wrapped up together. Their arms and legs were entangled somewhere between each other and the bedsheets. Billie had been exhausted when they entered the apartment, removing her dress and entering the bed in her slip. John barely had time to admire her figure in the skimpy dress before she was under the covers and her eyes were closed. He slipped in next to her, cuddling against her body and watching her face for some time as she slept. He was so in love. Just watching her rest filled him with peace and happiness. How had he been so lucky to have her with him? Her innocence and beauty intimidated him; he still felt himself utterly unworthy.

Wrapping his arms around her, resting his head close to her own, he too was able to sleep easily. Later in the night there came a rapping on the door. The entire apartment was silent, the lights off, and John and Billie were oblivious to the outside world. It wasn't the raucous knocking that woke them, or even when the front door was kicked open, but when a body came running into the bedroom and smacked against the door frame. "Hey Johnnie! Get up!"

John was perhaps roused with the first bang, but he didn't jump out of bed blindly until the second boom. He scrambled to the floor, his hand grabbing at the top drawer of the end table. He was already holding the gun in his hand unsteadily, blinking rapidly to clear his vision. Billie gasped loudly, woken abruptly, pulling the sheet over her chest.

"Ey!" the figure raised its hands. "Put that thing down, it's me!"

It took John another second to realize it was Red. He was wearing a coat and hat. John breathed a heavy sigh of relief, the gun lowering. "What the hells wrong with you!" he uttered roughly, leaning against the bed to take a few breaths.

"Listen, we gotta go... Pack your things, the cars are waiting..." He spoke hurriedly, urgently.

John grimaced. He was still clearing the spots from his vision, unaware and bewildered by the whole situation. "What?"

Red huffed, walking towards him with his hand outstretched. It wasn't until then that John realized he had been holding a piece of paper. It was handed over, John gazing down at the sheet. A shadow crossed his face.

"...shit."

He and Red exchanged a look for barely a second, John then hurrying around the bedroom, gathering things together. "We'll be downstairs," said Red, John nodding toward him and the man disappeared from the room.

Billie, still under the covers, looked back and fourth between the men attempting to comprehend what was happening. They'd been woken abruptly, startled from sleep in what they both imagined to be a horrific ambush of some kind, Billie's first conscious image one of John waving a gun. Her heart was still pumping fast, fear now seeping into her. They were...leaving? Now? In the middle of the night? She watched John's back as he stepped into a pair of pants, throwing open a suitcase already half-packed and gabbing at all the others clothes around the room.

"John?"

Her voice was light, tired, but thick with fear. He barely glanced to her. "We have to go," he said almost calmly. He stepped toward the bed and handed her the paper, slipping into the bathroom to clumsily gather his toiletries. Billie blinked her eyes clear, starring down at the paper. Her heart stopped.

It was designed like a Wanted poster, like the one Billie had seen of John- a bold headline above smaller print describing the subject. There was no picture, but the name "EVELYN FRECHETTE" assaulted her. This was a missing persons report all about her. Her fear and worry paused only a moment so it could build up in a crushing nightmarish frenzy. She picked up clips of the article frantically. "Goes by 'Billie,' brown hair, blue eyes, seventeen years-old, approx. 5 feet 6 inches, missing since Aug.30, family looking for any information."

There was no photo, only a loose description. She started to piece things together. There wouldn't be a picture; her mother couldn't afford that. There was no reward for the same reason. Billie imagined her mother back at home, delirious with worry and anger, doing everything she could to find her whereabouts. It had been a day since Billie had left and the woman had wasted no time. Her note had done little to console her, but Billie didn't think it would; there was no good way to run away from home. How serious her mother took her disappearance would only go so far- she didn't have the money to demand searches or rewards or advertisements. Already Billie had cost the woman greatly for the post she held in her hand.

There were opposing emotions she felt toward her mother. She had no doubt the woman was worried for her safety and felt a tragedy in loosing her; but did she have an ulterior motive in trying to find her? Billie's note summarized that she was leaving on her own accord, comfortably, going with or to some unknown state. Mary Frechette was very capable of unfathomable resentment toward the invisible force driving Billie. Enough, even, to want to sabotage and ruin it completely. In this case, that thing was John.

Mary had been suspecting a male in Billie's life prior to her disappearance. Now, she would have no doubt of it. She did want Billie back, but she probably wanted that man penalized more. This put the danger surrounding John into a new height. He could never be found out. If any of the blame for this was put on John it would be devastating. He could be accused of her kidnapping, and that idea seemed beyond ridiculous and terrifying. That's why they were leaving. They were running again, before anyone could find him or Billie herself.

Soon, hopefully, the buzz around Billie's absence would loosen up. She may never be forgotten, but the search for her would cease. It would all be a bad memory, but for now, nothing was safe. It was her fault they were scrambling to escape in the middle of the night. The situation was unbearable. She wanted nothing more for John than safety and comfort and she had laid a gigantic burden on his shoulders.

She had moved to the edge of the bed, her legs hanging over the side, and found herself to almost be shaking. With her head hung low there were suddenly warm rows of tears flooding from her eyes. Her hand came up, shielding the downpour, and the soft sound of her crying filled in the quiet patches of the room.

John, having taken out all the clothes from the drawers, stuffed them into the suitcase when he heard the sound. He glanced over his shoulder to see Billie's back to him, her shoulders shaking slightly as the murmurs continued. With a sudden and troubling realization he knew she was crying, quickly going to her and bending before her. His hands touched her shoulders, wanting her to face him, but she was weeping with her head down, her hair dangling over her vision.

"Baby..." he whispered in that tone when he felt like his heart was breaking. "Don't get upset. Not now, sweetheart, okay?"

She sniffled several times, still gazing down. "It's...my fault..." she breathed heavily. "This..." she picked up the paper, snapping it away in some direction with detest. John sighed heavily. He knew Billie would be upset in some way, he understood it, but the whole moment had fell on them spontaneously and only minutes before. They hadn't had time to digest any of it and what she was feeling now was impulsive and highly emotional.

"Listen to me," John said gently but with underlying sternness. He put his hands on her face, forcing her to face him. He could see the blue of her eyes intensified as they were rimmed and strained with redness. "We need to get outta here. You can cry and we can talk about this...we can talk about it for hours, however long you want, but later. Just a few minutes, even. Let's just get out of the apartment...get your bag together as fast as you can. Okay? Do this for me. Please."

As overwhelming as the situation was for Billie, while looking into his steady eyes she remembered this was not his first rodeo. Times like these, far worse than these, was where his expertise lay. John had a remarkable way of staying cool and calm and this radiated strongly to Billie. He wasn't ignoring her. If all she could do in the present moment was relax and do her small part, she would do that. For him. Still weary she nodded. His expression lightened.

He leaned forward, kissing her cheek, than rose again quickly, continuing to pack. Billie stood to do the same.