Over a period of the next several weeks, when she could get away from the estate without suspicion, Rochelle continued converting her savings to cash and transferring it to the safety deposit box until the account was empty.
With plenty of time to brainstorm, design, and refine her plan of action, she bought a long blonde wig, large dark glasses, baggy jeans and shirt, sneakers, socks, long dangling earrings, and a light jacket with long sleeves. To add to the effect, she purchased a portable cassette player with earphones and one tape. Her costume was made up to resemble the appearance of the younger generation whose style was anything but conservative—sort of “hippy” she thought. After each purchase, made intermittently over several weeks, she smuggled them into The Boutique in a tote bag she frequently used when she shopped. In the bathroom, she packaged the items tightly together, and then taped them beneath the sink where she hoped they would remain until she was ready to retrieve them. It was a chance she had to take.
She used Remy's phone to call the bus station, learning the bus schedule to the first largest town, where she would buy another ticket to another large town, hoping the numerous changes and stops would throw off anyone trying to trace her.
Nearly two months later, she reviewed all she had done, going back over every detail to determine if her plans seemed ironclad.
Nothing appeared to be remiss. She was ready to take the big step.
Now, she only needed to wait patiently until Tobias made another trip down to Columbia. There was less chance of detection if he were not there to initiate a search for her. No one would call in the police to report her missing unless Tobias gave the order himself.
She needed to make one last purchase, a large duffel bag for the money. She had to go out the back door of The Boutique one more time and take a cab. Since the duffle bag was too large to hide, she took her other items from beneath the sink and put them in the bag.
She entrusted it to Remy, making up a story about not wanting to carry it about with her and would pick it up later.
“No problem,” Remy told her, “It'll be here whenever you ask for it.” With as much money as Rochelle spent in her shop, Remy could be very accommodating.
Another month passed before Tobias informed her he was flying down to Colombia.
“Why don't you come with me?” he asked, and her heart jumped up in her throat.
“I don't think so,” she replied calmly even though her pulse throbbed erratically. “I haven't felt well lately. I'd rather not.”
Tobias eyed her suspiciously, his eyes examining her closely.
Rochelle knew if he were of a mind to insist on her coming, she would have no choice in the matter. Her nerves were raw-edged as she waited breathlessly for him to ruin all her carefully laid plans.
“Suit your self,” he remarked coldly, hardly caring one way or the other. “I'll be gone a week.”
A breath of relief escaped through her trembling lips and she fought to suppress her quickening excitement. Adrenaline tingled through her torso and limbs, but she checked it, not wanting to give Tobias reason to suspect anything. She greeted his news with apathy as she usually did, accepted his goodbye kiss early the next morning.
Her heart pounded furiously with elation.
It was time.
Her moment had finally arrived to put Tobias from her life.
A certain amount of excitement suffused in her blood stream, but beneath it was another, more pronounced emotion, pure terror.
She was scared to death. Even with Tobias a continent away, his presence was still as invasive as if he stood beside her. She could feel perspiration breaking out all over her even though the coolness of the air conditioning was at a comfortable setting. Butterflies nested in her stomach, fluttering violently at various moments like a thousand pulsating wings. Every tiny sound she heard startled her, sending a frightening jerk all through her body. Adding to the tumultuous anxiety invading her sanity was the imagined outcome if Tobias or the guards discovered her attempt to escape.
A million times she wished there was someone to talk to, someone to confide in. She knew people all over the city, but all were friends of Tobias. Anyway, the women Rochelle knew were probably like her, afraid to trust anyone. There was Bentley Harrison, her Godfather, who was her late father's closest friend. She trusted him beyond any other man, yet Rochelle dared not contact him by phone or in person. Such communication was traceable, which could jeopardize Bentley's safety. She had to do this alone.
There was no other way, and it was absolutely the only way to retain secrecy.
Giving Tobias time to arrive at his destination, she waited until the next day to make her get-away. The night proved a sleepless one with intermittent dozing blighted by terrible dreams that left her drenched with sweat. The night stretched endlessly. Every time she glanced at the digital clock, little time had passed since the last time she looked. When daylight began peeking over the eastern horizon, she was exhausted.
Dragging herself from the bed, she went to the shower and stood an extended time beneath the soothing splintery spray. It revived her, washed away some of the lethargy, and cleared her thoughts. She knew she had to be alert, had to follow every detail to the letter, lest Johnson get wind that something was underway.
Since it was still much too early to put her plans in motion, she chose her attire carefully; a comfortable suit and blouse, and flat sandals, which she seldom wore. She knew she should wear heels as she usually did, but she needed comfortable shoes in the event she had to move quickly. Finally finishing her daily routine of showering, putting on makeup, and dressing, she inspected herself in the mirror before going downstairs for breakfast.
“Mrs. Chandler, you're up early today,” the cook stated curiously. Then seeing how tired Rochelle looked, she continued.
“Are you feeling well? You look tired.”
“I didn't sleep well,” Rochelle replied shortly, wanting to avoid further conversation. She was certain everyone could look right into her mind and see what she planned. The feeling of transparency left her nervous and highly fidgety. She spilled her coffee and the cook wiped it up. She dropped her bread knife when she was buttering her toast, and it clanked against the plate. Her hands shook violently, and she had to hide them in her lap when the cook kept noticing them.
She was too nervous to be hungry, but she ate heartily anyway since she might not have a chance to eat for many hours to come.
She also drank several cups of black coffee to stimulate her dulled senses.
Her hands became clammy and she kept wiping them on the linen napkin, wishing away the time. She would leave at exactly eleven, and once downtown, she would dismiss Johnson, who sometimes took lunch while she shopped.
As time neared for her to leave, she stood before her closet, her clothing and the toilet articles in the dressing room the only signs that she even lived there. It was like a goodbye to the only things she cared about in Tobias's home. She would carry no apparel with her except the duffle bag and its contents at The Boutique. She touched a few items of clothing lovingly, hating to leave everything behind, but knowing it was necessary. Her clothes had been the only source of interest for the past five years, and except for shopping sprees, she would have been a prisoner for all the freedom allowed her.
One's state of mind could become a worse prison than actual bars, and from that perspective, she realized just how imprisoned Tobias had kept her.
She punched a button on the in-house phone. “Johnson, I want you to take me out today.” Nothing in her tone or manner was different from previous times. It was only in her lower stomach that the difference registered sharply. The butterflies were alive and pulsating, their wings flashing and fluttering with the force of a wind-swept storm.
“Yes, ma'am, what time.”
“I'm ready now. I'll be out in a minute.”
Johnson noticed the flat sandals right away as he held the car door for her. “Mrs. Chandler, you don't look so tall without your heels,” he said without intending discourtesy, his middle-aged face looking like sun-dried leather with deep wrinkles.
Rochelle's heart gave a strong lurch. “Yes, I slightly turned my ankle. It was a bit swollen and painful, so I decided against the heels today.” Her damp hand wrapped around the shoulder strap of her purse, grasping tight enough to cut off circulation in her fingers and turn her knuckles white.
“I never could understand how women can walk around in those stilted heels anyway,” he said, smiling broadly, ever appreciating the lovely visage of his bosses' wife.
“Wearing heels is the price we pay to look glamorous, I'm afraid,” Rochelle replied softly, smiling sweetly despite the raging tremors inside her.
“Where are we off to, Mrs. Chandler?” Johnson asked. He cranked the shiny black vehicle and steered it down the drive that swept through a lengthy expanse of lawn and on through the iron-grilled gate opening.
“Take me to my favorite spot, Johnson.”
After Johnson pulled off the street into The Boutique's little parking lot, Rochelle gathered up her purse and waited for him to open the door. “Johnson, since it's nearly noon, why don't you take lunch. I will probably be busy with fittings and the like if they got in a new shipment. Take your time. There is no need to hurry. Just give me a number where you will be and I can call you. I'll probably take lunch with Remy.”
Her plans were routinely the same as many times previously, and Johnson had no reason to question them. Habitually, when she gave him leave for lunch, he went to his favorite restaurant where some of his cronies hung out, spending two or three hours, never in a hurry because he knew Mrs. Chandler would call him when she was finished. He jotted down the number, remembered by heart, and handed it to her.
ROCHELLE WASTED NO TIME. When Remy spotted her coming through the doorway, Rochelle greeted her as usual. She inquired about the duffel bag. She waited while Remy fetched it.
“Here it is,” Remy said, holding it up, “just where I put it. Do you want it now?”
“Sure, I'll just hold onto it so I won't forget it.” Then turning to eye the direction of the bathroom, she rushed off toward it. “Too much coffee this morning,” she said, knowing Remy would understand. She had done that before, too.
Rochelle used the bathroom to relieve her bladder, and then eased out without anyone observing her. The bathroom was on a tiny hallway near the back door, so Rochelle hurried out back to the alley. She felt like running once her feet touched the pavement, but she knew better than to do anything that might attract attention.
Instead of running, she walked as fast as she could. The butterflies were taking a rest now as Rochelle's mind intently strove to follow the carefully laid plans reviewed dozens of times.
When she came to the end of the alley where it opened onto the street, she cast her eyes up and down, to be sure the vehicle driven by Johnson was nowhere in sight. For a second her heart froze in her chest as a long dark car, looking exactly like the one Johnson drove, passed right before her eyes. She was not able to see the driver because of dark-tinted windows, and whether or not he saw her, she had no idea. Quickly, she hailed a cab, which offered concealment, and Rochelle breathed more easily once inside. When they arrived at the bank, she asked the cabby to wait for her.
Glancing about the large bank lobby now, she hoped this would be her last time coming here. If things went well, she would be well away from Miami by midnight.
She went to the teller who handled the deposit boxes and waited her turn behind an old man who moved and spoke with arthritic slowness. The teller followed him into the vaulted room, turned her key in the lock, and then waited for him to turn his key before showing him to a small private room. All the while, Rochelle counted the minutes. The teller came back out and followed the same procedure with Rochelle, except in this instance, keying two safety deposit boxes.
Alone in the small room, Rochelle hastily transferred the money and documents into the duffel bag after taking the package of clothing out. It took a few minutes longer than expected to make the transfer before she put the deposit boxes back, constantly aware of the time ticking away. She had to be at the bus station before twelve-thirty, to change clothing, purchase her ticket, and be on the one o'clock bus.
Sweat broke out all over her as she hurried to the waiting taxi.
Her auburn-gold hair was such an attention-getter, she hoped and prayed no one would spot her before she arrived at the bus station and changed into the clothes bundled in the package. All it would take to ruin her plans was for a single acquaintance of Tobias's to see her in a taxi. It would be a dead giveaway since they all knew Rochelle had her own driver for wherever she wanted to go.
She gave the taxi driver a street name she knew was only two blocks from the bus station. If anyone traced her to the cab, at least no one would be perfectly sure she had gone to the bus terminal. In the cab, she pulled her hair back in a ponytail and twirled it around in a bun so it would not be quite so flashy. When the cab driver let her out, she paid him and quickly started in the direction opposite from the bus station, wanting to mislead him on the direction she took. As soon as he was out of sight, however, she turned about and seeing the time was slipping past too quickly, she hurried toward the bus terminal.
Once inside, she raced to the restroom, flung off her clothes and tore into the package containing the most disgusting clothes she would likely ever wear again. She quickly donned them, draped the blonde wig over her head, added the large sunglasses and earrings, and inspected herself in the mirror. Another look at her watch informed her she had to buy her ticket immediately, or the bus would be leaving without her.
She stuffed the clothes she had pulled off into the duffel bag, spreading them so they covered the money that would have invited all kinds of thieves from every dark corner of the planet if they guessed what she carried. One last look in the mirror brought a smile to her lips. She really did look like some young, dumb, street kid without a care in the world. She did not recognize herself, and was almost sure that if Tobias could have seen her, he would not have recognized her either. With the earphones over her ears, it added to the effect. Satisfied with her appearance, she rushed from the restroom.
The ticket woman looked at her distastefully, wondering why young people had to ruin their looks by dressing so sloppily. “Where to?” she inquired indifferently with a bored look on her face.
“Orlando,” Rochelle said, ignoring the woman's critical stare and sharp manner. She paid for her ticket and went to board the bus.
A line of folk in front of her looked tired before their trip began, as if dreading the long ride ahead of them.
Rochelle found a seat at the very back of the bus, wanting to be as inconspicuous as possible. Seeing the bus wasn't filled to capacity, she claimed both seats, sitting toward the aisle and putting the duffel bag beside her.
Many miles later, after her bus left the bus station, she glanced at her watch and saw it was past three o'clock. She suspected Johnson would be wondering why she had not called. How long would he continue to wait, she wondered, before eventually realizing that something was wrong?
She tried to determine the actions of Johnson and Tobias's guards back at the estate. Would they go in search of her first or would they simply call Tobias right away to report her missing?
Regardless, there would be a mad search to find her. Thank God, she thought now, that she had disguised herself.
Even in disguise, though, doubts churned restlessly. She was not altogether sure she had escaped her prison. It seemed more appropriate to say she was simply exchanging one prison for another since her fear would keep her just as shackled as Tobias had done.
She turned on the cassette player and fixed her earphones in place, listening to music that, despite its soothing tone, made no marked difference in her agitated nerves. Every cough, raised voice, or any sudden braking, caused her to twist off her earphones so she could better hear what was going on around her. Finally, she turned off the cassette, removed the earphones, and prepared to give closer attention to everything about her.
The miles slowly ticked away, the distance between her and Tobias growing wider. After she changed buses in Orlando, she felt a bit more secure, but she knew better than to get complacent. She still wasn't out of danger of Tobias's power and influence. His threat to kill her kept her extremely alert and cautious.
She still had miles to go.