Getaway by Lisa Brackmann Page A

herself she really needed to get a grip.
    Even if Vicky was a friend of Gary’s. One who just happened to be in the neighborhood.
    Was Puerto Vallarta really that small a town?
    “Nice to see you, too.”
    Vicky frowned, wrinkling up her sunburned forehead. “I’m not sure why, but I guess I thought you’d gone back to the States.”
    “Well, I was planning to. But, you know, the craziest thing happened.”
    She hesitated. She felt like she was about to step off a cliff.
    “I was on my way to the airport, and my taxi … well, he hit a police car who pulled out in front of us. And the officer claimed his neck got hurt, and it turned into this whole drama. You wouldn’t believe it.”
    “Oh, my!” Vicky gasped. “That kind of thing can get really nasty. What happened?”
    “Like I said, it was crazy! They took me to jail, can you believe that? I mean, what did any of it have to do with me? And by the time they let me go, I’d missed my flight.”
    Stick as close to the truth as you can. It’s easier to remember the truth than a lie .
    “Oh, honey, you’ve just had terrible luck.” Vicky gave her shoulder a quick squeeze. “Yeah, that kind of thing happens when you get in car accidents here. It’s because it’s all the NapoleonicCode, you know? Guilty until proven innocent. But so long as you weren’t driving, it’s not really your problem.”
    Michelle mimed a shudder, which wasn’t hard to do. “I can’t imagine driving here,” she said. “Especially after that.”
    “So did they give you a credit for your ticket? Will you be able to get home okay?”
    Her heart thudded hard in her chest. She hadn’t thought to check on the status of her ticket.
    You have five grand in cash, she told herself. Make something up.
    “Sure, getting home’s not really a problem. I just thought …” Michelle smiled. “You know, it’s starting to feel like something doesn’t want me to leave. I got a room down the street for the next week or so. Just so I could, you know, give this place a chance. See what I think about being here.”
    She gave a little half shrug. “It’s kind of embarrassing for me to say this, but I don’t have a lot going on at home right now.”
    “I understand. I really do.” Vicky stared at her with an almost enthralled expression, as if she’d found a fellow traveler. “This is a nice place, Michelle. I’m so glad that you’re giving Vallarta a chance. Not everybody would, if they’d had stuff like that happen to them.”
    “Well, bad things happen everywhere. I mean, I’m from Los Angeles.” She spread her hands wide, palms to the heavens. “I’m used to stuff happening.”
    Vicky hesitated. “You know, when you’re an expat, it’s easy to get isolated,” she said, a little shyly. “Just sort of hang out with other Americans and stay in our routines. But there’s a whole other side of life here. If you’re interested.”
    “Thanks,” Michelle said. “That’s really nice of you.”
    Vicky rummaged around in her fanny pack (a fanny pack? people still used fanny packs?) and drew out a silver business-card case.
    “Here,” she said, extracting a card. “This is my contact information. If you ever feel like getting together, if you need anything, just give me a call or drop me an e-mail.”
• • •
    A part of Michelle couldn’t believe that she’d done it. She’d stood there and lied. Sticking close to the truth, as Gary had recommended.
    Just like he’d wanted her to do.
    It hadn’t been that hard.
    She felt as though she’d crossed some sort of line, but it wasn’t irrevocable. It had only been with Vicky.
    Trying it with Daniel wouldn’t be the same.
    Michelle sat on the edge of the bed in her room at Hacienda Carmen and weighed her options.
    Play along and call Daniel or try to run. Trust someone to help her.
    Not the local authorities, that was for sure.
    The consulate? Would they believe her? Protect her if she got hauled off to jail again?
    Was