Mrs. John Doe by Tom Savage Read Free Book Online Page A

been told that her mother was going to London to join her father, and she hadn’t asked any questions. Most of their time together had involved a weepy, angry denunciation of Mike Lasky, Dana’s boyfriend of one year, a prelaw student who was apparently stepping out with another girl. Nora would have to call Dana now, tell her—
    Tell her what? To watch out for kidnappers? Not to talk to strange men or get into strange cars? Nora didn’t know what was going on here, but in just a few hours in England she’d been followed, assaulted, protected, contacted. Was Dana in danger? Probably not, but
probably
wasn’t good enough. Aunt Mary was the solution. Nora’s one remaining relative was seventy-six, and she loved visits from her great-niece, who adored her. Nora would call Aunt Mary, then Dana, and arrange for a three-day trip to Great Neck. No, a week. Go stay with Aunt Mary, and don’t tell anyone where you’re going…
    More lies. She and Jeff had been lying to their daughter all her life. It was time to tell her the truth, as soon as Nora was back in New York. For now, Aunt Mary wasn’t feeling well and needed looking after. Aunt Mary would gladly play along with the ruse for a chance to spoil Dana for a whole week. If Nora knew her daughter was safe, she could do this. Whatever
this
was…
    She showered and dressed in fresh clothes, her black pantsuit and a gray blouse—more widow’s weeds. The boots she’d been wearing would be fine; they were comfortable for walking, and the London Fog trench coat was suitable for any weather. She wouldn’t take anything else with her. She didn’t know how long she’d be in Paris, but if it would be a matter of days, she’d get things there. What better place to buy clothes?
    A last look around the room. Two bracelets, a necklace, her pearl earrings, the iPhone, and, reluctantly, her wedding ring—these would all be handed to Lonny Tindall downstairs, to be stored in the hotel safe. Otherwise, everything could stay here, in the room. Two more sets of dark clothing, two pairs of shoes, an old clutch purse, and a wheeled suitcase were of no interest to thieves. Or spies.
    All set. She picked up her shoulder bag and made her way downstairs. She’d be back here tomorrow night, with any luck, and she could fly home the next day. The plan had obviously changed, and she must adapt to the changes. She’d go to Paris without leaving a trail. She’d do whatever she had to do.
    She would find her husband, wherever he was.

Chapter 9
    Lonny Tindall turned out to be a treasure, and now Nora was speeding along beneath the English Channel at well over one hundred miles per hour. The view of the early morning British countryside outside her train window had been replaced by total black, with a steady stream of tunnel lights flashing by, but at this speed they were mere blurs. She was nearly in France now. Old Mr. Tindall’s clever grandson had seen to everything.
    You have to spend money, Lonny had told her, and this is why: Immigration. What you want is a business premier class, flexible, round-trip ticket with chauffeur service at the other end. Nora had never been on the Eurostar before, but many of the Byron’s guests booked it through the hotel, and young Lonny had learned all the quirky rules and perks of the game. Bottom line: The rich are different.
    If Nora was trying to be inconspicuous, he explained, she’d need a top-tier ticket. It was pricey but worth it. Business premier travelers were handled quickly in St. Pancras International Station, whereas the cheap-seaters might endure a longer process, usually involving lines. More questions, more scrutiny. Furthermore, she had to fill out an Immigration landing card because she was an American, and her passport would be checked by French Customs and Immigration people in the station before she boarded. One more step in the process, which wasn’t good for a Yank who needed to be off the grid, in Lonny’s considered opinion.