The Woman by David Bishop

what’s going on. Is this related to the torture and murder of my friend, Cynthia Leclair?”
    “No time now. Listen to me. You have a canvas bag hanging on the clothesline just below your deck where you hang your wet bathing suit and sweats. Do you know where I mean?”
    “Yes.”
    “In the bottom of that bag, under the clothespins, I have left you five thousand dollars in cash so if you need to run you’ll have money. If you run, do not use any credit cards. Not even once. Not for anything. There is also a cell phone in the bag. It is safe. If you need to reach me, press the send button. It’s programmed to my cell. I will answer. If that cell rings, it will be me calling you. It is otherwise dysfunctional. It has no phone number you can find in the cell so don’t bother looking. It is only to connect us, particularly if you go on the run. There is also a gun. It cannot be traced anywhere. It is loaded. Do you know how to operate a handgun?”
    “Well, there’s at least something you don’t already know about me. Yes I can handle a gun. My dad taught me. But I don’t like guns.”
    “You may need to rethink that. With what you’re involved in, a gun might be the only thing that keeps you alive.”
    “And just what am I involved in?”
    “I said later. For now, keep the things I left in that clothespin bag with you. You can’t know just when you’ll need them.”
    “Not the gun, I will never shoot one again.”
    “Get over it, woman. You’ll likely be better off running and hiding than trying to shoot it out with the type of men who will be coming. But keep the gun close. If you are cornered, you have one advantage. They will want to take you alive. Let them get close without knowing you have the gun. Then use it. Always aim for their broad center, then close in and put one in their head.”
    “You’re scaring the shit out of me.”
    “Good, if you’re going to survive that’s how you need to be, scared, but keep your wits about you. Don’t trust anyone. And say nothing to Police Chief McIlhenny. I’ll be in touch with you when I get back there, probably tomorrow. When you call me, always say hello first. Your first word, your very . . . first . . . word. I’ll always say hello back. My very . . . first . . . word. If you are in danger say hello a second time, after I’ve said hello back to you. Got it?”
    “Yes.”
    “Do you keep a diary, Ms. Darby?”
    “What?”
    “Simple question, do you keep a diary, a ledger, a journal, anything like that?”
    “No. But what does that have to do with anything?”
    “Not important. Do you have any questions about our use of the word hello to first begin and first reply in our phone conversations?”
    “I understand that, but nothing else.”
    “That’s all for now. I’ll call you tomorrow night to let you know I’m back or when I will be. Until then you are on your own. Stay alert and ready. Do you have any questions about what I have told you?”
    “Plenty, but apparently you won’t answer them.”
    “I will later.”
    “From what you’ve said I may not have a later.”
    “Then the answers won’t matter.”
    * * *
    After hearing the dial tone, Linda held the phone in front of face, looking at it as if it were a severed umbilicus cord.
    After thanking her neighbors, she went home, hooked the chain lock on the front door and got into bed fully clothed, even her running shoes. After a few minutes, she got back up, went out the front door and walked around to the back of her condo. The ground sloped down enough so she could stand under her deck. From a distance, even in the ambient light, she could see the canvas bag on the clothesline looked extra plump. Inside she found everything Ahab said would be there. She took out the money and the cell phone, putting them in her pockets. Then she took out the gun. The first time she had held a gun since she was twelve. She held its coldness, stared at its hardness. No. She would not take the gun into