Pressing on the accelerator, Christy pushed the limits of her little car and didn't stop checking the rearview mirror until she'd finally turned off the long winding road that led away from Anthony's lonely ranch house. She'd been subconsciously calculating her options and supposed that Detective Cochran had broadcasted an alert for her white Rabbit. And more than likely, Anthony would do the same. They would be looking north of Naples. She made a quick and last-minute decision to head over the Alley to the east coast of Florida. She knew her bank had branches over there. She would hit up a store for some hair dye and clothes, get a hotel room and when the banks opened in the morning she would withdraw some money. She’d ditch her car and get a cab to a small private airport tomorrow. Once there, she would anonymously charter a jet. She was certain that the right amount of cash paid to the right pilot would guarantee her privacy. She wasn't sure where she would go, but she had the hour and a half drive over the Alley to think about it.

It was dark now, and she was grateful the ominous clouds that had threatened at Anthony's hadn't followed her. She used the drive to reflect on the man she'd left behind and her decision to leave him a signed blank check. She didn't know how much Van owed Anthony, but she secretly hoped there was enough in her account to cover it. She didn't want Anthony coming after her. At least that's what she told herself.

She turned on her radio and frowned when she heard The Bee Gees "How Deep Is Your Love." She switched stations and "Heard It in a Love Song" floated through the speakers. I'm not in the mood to hear love songs! she screamed in her head. She went through three more stations rejecting each one before finally deciding to try her favorite oldies station. “Stop! In the Name of Love” was just finishing up and was immediately followed by Paul Revere & the Raiders “Indian Reservation.”

“Seriously?” she asked herself out loud looking heavenward. Turning off her radio she tried to concentrate on the road and block any thoughts of the man whose dark eyes haunted her. The man she'd tried to placate with a blank check. The man whose stare rivaled the menacing clouds she’d escaped. The man who'd held her fevered body in a cold shower. Who'd taken her to see her newborn nephew and had eaten lunch with her extended family. Who'd taken her to Abby's grave.

She hmphed when she remembered he was protecting his investment. He was a killer who did what needed doing. She was nothing more than another job to him. She knew it was true, but couldn't deny there was a longing in her soul that for a millisecond of time, convinced her that she saw something in his eyes hinting it could be more. Shaking off the ridiculous notion, she grabbed her Fleetwood Mac tape and shoved it in the eight-track player and turned up the volume. "Over My Head" blasted through the speakers. Yes, I am, she thought as she sped through the murky night.

It wasn't until she was about twenty miles from exiting Alligator Alley that she noticed the fuel light. She was running low, but was certain she could make it. There had to be a gas station at the end of the Alley. She was more than disappointed after discovering she was wrong and a small sense of panic started to seep in. It was pitch black and there wasn't a headlight in sight. Taking a calming breath, she told herself she would drive as far as possible, walk or hitch to the closest gas station and either get a ride back to her car or to a hotel.

The little car puttered along as far as it could and she pulled off the side of the road when it finally ran out of gas. She gathered her few belongings, locked her car and started walking. Two cars passed her and she held out her thumb to hitch a ride, praying that it wouldn't be with the wrong person, but neither stopped. It was so dark now that the night seemed to close in around her, bringing with it fear and doubt about her hasty decision to leave. Never one to give up and left with no choice, she pressed on.

In less than two miles, she came upon an old motel. It was on the opposite side of the road and even though the sign wasn't illuminated, she could see there were rooms with lights on. They probably turn off their marquee light when they're full, she thought to herself. She crossed the road and approached the entrance with a lighter step. She would ask to use a phone, call a cab and be on her way. She was encouraged when she heard laughter and music and saw a bonfire. Letting out a sigh of relief that she'd stumbled on what seemed to be a fun crowd, she walked a little faster, grateful that she had found the Glades Motel.