Julia’s eyes opened wide.
“We’re driving to Ashland.”
Julia
Crossing the state line and entering Wisconsin, I had a flashback of driving the rental car into the unknown. At this point in the journey, I’d been concentrating on what I was leaving behind. Three weeks later, I wasn’t leaving anything behind as much as I felt that I was going toward my true life, the one I wanted with my entire heart and soul.
Van and I had yet to discuss Phillip or anything else in much detail. One of the reasons for our lack of discussion was the men in the front seat. It was reassuring to see Michael and I now knew my bodyguard’s name was Albert. In some way I’d grown accustomed to both of them. That said, Donovan Sherman was too private of a man for me to ask him with an audience present to explain how we’d come to this point.
As the landscape changed with each mile, I came up with more questions while at the same time settling into the peace that came in Van’s presence. I wished I could explain this, even to myself. Within Van’s orbit, the world calmed. The glass of our globe defied principles of matter, reversing its shattered state, growing stronger, and keeping us safe from outside forces.
After nearly two hours of listening to one-sided conversations, I knew that some of my perceptions of safety and isolation were contrived. To think we could simply put today’s chain of events behind us and move forward was wishful thinking or the dream of a spoiled child, and yet when left in our bubble, the possibility felt real.
My thoughts wandered back to Lincoln Park.
How is my disappearance being handled?
Does anyone know that the man with them isn’t Van?
If I had my phone, I would call Vicki and ask for details. I’d also tell her that I was safe and with the real Van. A small part of me worried about what was left of my reputation and wondered how many guests my mother had corralled for their second time to not see me marry.
I couldn’t learn any of that.
I didn’t have my phone. The last time I saw it, Van—a.k.a. Phillip—turned it off and placed it in the breast pocket of his suit coat. When I mentioned that to Van, he texted Connie and promised to have a new phone as soon as we arrived in Ashland.
In the time that had passed since Van’s initial call with his assistant, he’d stayed busy talking with multiple people. When one call ended, he’d return numerous text messages and then begin a new conversation. It wasn’t that he was keeping me out of the loop. I was present but with the benefit of hearing only half of everything.
Taking what I could from Van’s side of the conversations, I’d been able to paste parts and pieces together.
“Mr. Sherman and Ms. McGrath,” Michael said from the front seat. “We need to stop for gas. We’re approaching Madison. Would you two like a minute to stretch your legs?”
“I would,” I volunteered.
Van simply nodded as he ended his most recent phone call. “Are you hungry?” he asked as we passed a multitude of restaurants.
“You don’t like public dining.”
“Ashland is still five hours away. I could use a cup of coffee or a stiff drink.” He looked to the men in the front seat. “Ms. McGrath and I are going to go to that diner next door. After the car is filled, join us for some food.”
They both agreed.
Standing upon the concrete, I stretched my muscles as the cool Wisconsin air swirled around us. The sky above was filled with shades of gray, reminding me that we were headed away from the cold of Chicago to the frigid air of northern Wisconsin. And still, as Van reached for my hand, I couldn’t come up with anyplace I’d rather be.
“Is my laptop in the trunk?” I asked. I’d been thinking about my recent research.
Van reached for my hand. “I believe it is. Or it was sent on to the plane.”
We began walking through the parking lots toward the diner. The sign glowed in the waning sunlight. “What happened with the police at the plane?” Van had filled me in on that much.
“The lawyer demanded a search warrant.”
“They didn’t have one?” I asked, puzzled.
“They did, but it was for the wrong name.”
“What name?”
“Julia Sherman.”