if we should do this anymore. It wasnât part of the original plan. The point of all of this was for you to have a chance at a real life. Stop thinking about what might have been. Maybe you havenât given Lou a chance. Letâs quit this for a while. You havenât missed a thing. Go live your life, Jo. Please.
R
November 5, 2008
To: Ryan
From: Jo
You canât keep telling me to disappear. Iâve done what Iâve been told. Iâve disappeared enough. In the meantime, Iâd like to continue this arrangement. Donât disappoint me and I wonât disappoint you.
Jo
Chapter 5
----
I T took a few days for the facts to sink in. Being Amelia Keen wasnât going to work for me anymore. I thought about phoning an old friend who owed me a debt that canât be quantified, but it seemed risky making any contact after Iâd exterminated Mr. Oliverâs colleagues. I wasnât sure what side my old friend was on. I had to accept the fact that I was on my own and needed a new name to inhabit. I was going to miss Amelia Keen; Iâd had high hopes for her. I still wasnât sure what to do about the car registration. It was a danger having a vehicle in Tanyaâs name, but Amelia was also a liability.
For two weeks, from the end of March until the beginning of April, I laid low in Blueâs home, earning my keep by cleaning house and buying groceries with my dwindling savings. I read the news to keep abreast of the investigation into the mysterious car crash. The detectives on the case believed two unknown assailants were in the vehicle with the victims. The identities of the two men had yet to be discerned, and no one had come forward to claim the bodies. I was convinced the police were holding out on the press. I figured it was just a matter of time before the SWAT team raided Blueâs and my home. Each rustle of leaves outside or an engine purring down the road fed my paranoia. I would start to drink early just to calm my nerves, to stop the constant vibration of the world around me.
At night I watched the main house. There were always exactly two lights on, one upstairs and one downstairs, and always the jittery glow of a television hidden behind opaque curtains. The television seemed to be on all night long, but the upstairs light flicked off like clockwork at ten fifteen p.m. Blue would always check on the old woman after her shift at the bar, killing the downstairs light on her way out. The old ladyâI eventually learned that her name was Myrnaâwas housebound: arthritis, glaucoma, dementia. Only a few times did I see Myrnaâs shadow shuffling through the house. She only traveled from one room to the other. Blue said that even when she was young, she kept to herself. Left the house with the rarity of an eclipseâonly when Blueâs Aunt Greta threatened to leave her if she didnât get out and about. I wasnât to bother Myrna. She didnât take well to new people, I was told. I could relate. I didnât take well to people in general.
I had only been at the house two weeks, but it seemed like months had passed. I felt as if I were tumbling at high speed toward the bottom of a ravine. I started to read the obituaries every morning because they brought me some comfort, reminding me that I wasnât the only one whose time was running out. More people die young than youâd think.
That was when it occurred to me that I might be able to find the next person to inhabit at the local mortuary. Every day I scoured the obits for a likely candidate. At first my criteria were pretty simple: I needed a woman who had died prematurely and lived alone. I told Blue about my plan, and she wanted in on the action. We decided to join forces on the hunt, and whoever looked the most like the deceased could call dibs.
We donned black dresses and conservative makeup and drove to the mortuary listed in the paper. We took Blueâs car, but she always let
R
November 5, 2008
To: Ryan
From: Jo
You canât keep telling me to disappear. Iâve done what Iâve been told. Iâve disappeared enough. In the meantime, Iâd like to continue this arrangement. Donât disappoint me and I wonât disappoint you.
Jo
Chapter 5
----
I T took a few days for the facts to sink in. Being Amelia Keen wasnât going to work for me anymore. I thought about phoning an old friend who owed me a debt that canât be quantified, but it seemed risky making any contact after Iâd exterminated Mr. Oliverâs colleagues. I wasnât sure what side my old friend was on. I had to accept the fact that I was on my own and needed a new name to inhabit. I was going to miss Amelia Keen; Iâd had high hopes for her. I still wasnât sure what to do about the car registration. It was a danger having a vehicle in Tanyaâs name, but Amelia was also a liability.
For two weeks, from the end of March until the beginning of April, I laid low in Blueâs home, earning my keep by cleaning house and buying groceries with my dwindling savings. I read the news to keep abreast of the investigation into the mysterious car crash. The detectives on the case believed two unknown assailants were in the vehicle with the victims. The identities of the two men had yet to be discerned, and no one had come forward to claim the bodies. I was convinced the police were holding out on the press. I figured it was just a matter of time before the SWAT team raided Blueâs and my home. Each rustle of leaves outside or an engine purring down the road fed my paranoia. I would start to drink early just to calm my nerves, to stop the constant vibration of the world around me.
At night I watched the main house. There were always exactly two lights on, one upstairs and one downstairs, and always the jittery glow of a television hidden behind opaque curtains. The television seemed to be on all night long, but the upstairs light flicked off like clockwork at ten fifteen p.m. Blue would always check on the old woman after her shift at the bar, killing the downstairs light on her way out. The old ladyâI eventually learned that her name was Myrnaâwas housebound: arthritis, glaucoma, dementia. Only a few times did I see Myrnaâs shadow shuffling through the house. She only traveled from one room to the other. Blue said that even when she was young, she kept to herself. Left the house with the rarity of an eclipseâonly when Blueâs Aunt Greta threatened to leave her if she didnât get out and about. I wasnât to bother Myrna. She didnât take well to new people, I was told. I could relate. I didnât take well to people in general.
I had only been at the house two weeks, but it seemed like months had passed. I felt as if I were tumbling at high speed toward the bottom of a ravine. I started to read the obituaries every morning because they brought me some comfort, reminding me that I wasnât the only one whose time was running out. More people die young than youâd think.
That was when it occurred to me that I might be able to find the next person to inhabit at the local mortuary. Every day I scoured the obits for a likely candidate. At first my criteria were pretty simple: I needed a woman who had died prematurely and lived alone. I told Blue about my plan, and she wanted in on the action. We decided to join forces on the hunt, and whoever looked the most like the deceased could call dibs.
We donned black dresses and conservative makeup and drove to the mortuary listed in the paper. We took Blueâs car, but she always let
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