Jewell didn't know whether walking or running would be safer. Running would be faster, but it might attract attention. She decided on a brisk walk. It was very dark, except for a pale moon, now at the end of its last quarter, and a few street lights. There was light traffic on Queen Street, but none at all on South. Jewell wished there were more houses. Most of the buildings on South Street were commercial and they were completely unoccupied this time of night.
Jewell had gone about two blocks on South, hugging the left side of the street, when a Skylark Taxi slowed down on the other side. The driver, a woman, was alone in the cab. She rolled down her window and called out:
"Do you need a cab?"
"No, thank you. I'm almost there."
"You shouldn't be walking around out here alone. Where are you going?"
"Just to the Superstore."
"Look, I'll drop you there. I'm going that way anyway."
Jewell hesitated. It seemed like a kind offer and she would be more comfortable in a taxi than alone on the street. But would the driver become suspicious and report her? Maybe it would be better to accept the drive and make up a credible story to set the driver's mind at rest. The Superstore was good thinking. It was right across from the station and open until midnight. Jewell crossed the street and the driver opened the passenger door.
"I'm Jayne," said the driver when Jewell was settled in. She put the car in gear. "What does a young girl need so urgently that she has to buy it this time of night?"
"I'm meeting my friend Sara at the Superstore. We're going to pick up a few things for a sleep-over. She's already there with her Dad. He'll drive us to her place."
"Isn't it a bit late to be starting a sleep-over?"
"It is, but Sara babysits Friday evenings. We don't mind. We'll be up all night anyway."
"Don't your parents know that a dangerous criminal escaped from Dorchester this morning?"
"They didn't mention it, but Dorchester is in New Brunswick anyway."
"They think he's headed this way. Probably hitchhiking."
"That could be risky for you too, Jayne, picking up people you don't know all the time. How would you defend yourself?"
Jayne pulled into the strip mall parking lot and stopped by the Atlantic Superstore entrance. "I'll just wait here a minute to make sure your friend is there to meet you. What did you say your name is?"
"Beth," Jewell answered, almost too quickly. "Actually, it's Bethany, but nobody calls me that except my grandmother. It's her name too. I was named after her."
Jewell saw Jayne's body relax. "You were very kind to give me a free ride," Jewell said softly feeling guilty for the lie about her name. "It was a bit eerie walking alone. I hope that criminal doesn't use taxis."
She undid her seatbelt and opened the door, knowing Jayne's eyes would be following her as she entered the store. Once inside, Jewell waved enthusiastically toward the produce aisle, hoping Jayne would think she had spotted Sara. Jayne put the car in gear and pulled away.
"Well this has turned into a good luck day," Jewell thought to herself. "Now I can buy food for the trip and still have time to get my ticket."
Ten minutes after entering the store, Jewell was in line at the speedy check-out and feeling the excitement of what she was about to do mounting inside her. The cashier was about 20, with French nails and streaked hair.
"This is a healthy looking grocery order," she said as she scanned raisins, nuts, wheat crackers and two bags of Veggie Snacks. Jewell smiled.
"It's actually for a sleep-over. We miscalculated, so I came for reinforcements."
The cashier laughed. "We didn't eat peas and carrots at any of my sleepovers."
"They're delicious with dip," Jewell assured her.
Jewell packed her green bag and hurried to the exit, then ran as fast as she could across the parking lot toward the station.
Now for the real challenge. There weren’t many people waiting for the train so that was a good indication there would still be a seat. Jewell looked around for the ticket agent, then approached the wicket, exuding self-confidence. There were five people ahead of her, all adults. "I’d like a student ticket to Toronto," Jewell said, when her turn came. The agent looked at her suspiciously.
"Student tickets should be purchased five days in advance."
Jewell just stood there, not knowing what to do or say.
"Are you travelling alone?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Jewell wasn’t expecting that question. "My grandmother gave me the money for grading. I came east to visit her, and now I’m going home," she said, adjusting the broken lug of Andrew’s glasses over her right ear.
"Is your grandmother here now?"
"No, my uncle is. "
"Why didn’t you get a return ticket in the first place?"
"I didn’t come here by train. My uncle and I drove out."
The agent sighed, scrutinized Jewell carefully and asked, "You’re between 12 and 17?"
"Yes, I’m 14. I have an ID in my bag somewhere. Should I dig it out?"
A couple more students, older than Jewell, had queued behind her and were grumbling that they were going to miss the train.
"No, you’re at least twelve, but too young for Youth. That’ll be $ 201.78. Are you checking any baggage?"
"No, I just have my knapsack and food for the trip."
"You’ll get into Montreal at 8:15 Saturday evening and you’ll change trains. Your train to Toronto leaves Montreal at 9:40 p.m. and gets into Toronto Sunday morning at 3:57. I hope your family will be there to meet you."
"Oh they will, with bells on," Jewell promised as she passed the man the $202.00 she had transferred to her pocket outside the superstore.
"There’ll be a call when it’s time to board. Don’t lose your ticket," the man advised and handed Jewell her twenty-two cents. Done! And she hadn’t had to tell the agent her name. Jewell felt like dancing.
The Mortons would probably spend Saturday checking with her friends and searching malls and parks. By the time the media became involved she’d be in Montreal and no one would expect her to be that far away. She would be boarding in just a few minutes and not even Andrew knew where she was going.
Jewell spotted a tall, avuncular looking man standing alone in the concession area. For the ticket agent’s benefit, she walked over to the man, smiled, and asked him the time.
In the meantime, Andrew had spent a restless night . So many times he wanted to check and see whether Jewell had escaped as planned, but he couldn’t risk awakening the Mortons. At 3:00 a.m., he heard Mr.Morton in the bathroom, and his heart froze. His fingers searched his pyjama pocket for the little dragon brooch. Mr. Morton went back to his own room without any detours and Andrew relaxed.
Suddenly, Andrew had a clear mental picture of Jewell on a train. She was wearing his cap and glasses and sitting beside a surly-looking man, buried in a newspaper. Jewell looked relaxed and almost happy. Andrew drifted off to sleep.
He was awake again at six o’clock, but forced himself to stay in bed until 7:30 when he heard Mrs. Morton starting breakfast. He dressed and slipped downstairs and into the kitchen. Mrs. Morton barely looked up from the eggs she was whisking. "It’s you," she said. "Is Jewell up?"
"I don’t think so."
"Well, go and wake her up. We have a meeting with Mona at nine o’clock."
Andrew went back upstairs, dreading every step up. He knocked on Jewell’s door and called her name. He knocked again and called louder. He tried the door and found it locked. "She has her door locked and isn’t answering," he said, re-entering the kitchen.
Mrs. Morton slammed the bowl on the counter. "Rod, deal with Jewell," she called to her husband. Mr. Morton shuffled in from the dining room, carrying the Halifax Herald in one hand and his reading glasses in the other.
