In Plain Sight by Fern Michaels Page A

car following him for miles, he supposed.
    Jason drove aimlessly for a while, through villages, through neighborhoods, then out to the main artery and, finally, to the Beltway. He was reasonably sure no one was following him. He drove for almost an hour before he hit a small mini shopping mall, where he stopped at a drugstore to buy two TracFones. He paid cash.
    Jason’s next stop was an ATM machine. Even he knew he could be tracked for making a withdrawal, but if he was going on the run, he needed money. He hated that he was taking his tuition money, but at the moment, he couldn’t think of any other way to get money quickly. Four stops later he had over a thousand dollars in his pocket. Then he backtracked all the way to his apartment parking area, where he plugged in the TracFone, programmed it, and then blocked the number so he could call his cell again to give the women an update. He was getting pretty good at this spy stuff, he decided.
    Jason set out again, this time going in the opposite direction. As far as he was concerned, he’d done all he could. Now all he had to do was let his mind wander to his Facebook page and all the silly nonsensical things he’d posted, like the stupid oaf that he was. It was true what his elders had been preaching: Once it was out there, it was there for the whole world to see, and the whole world as he knew it was seeing it in all its glory, his whole life story. Stupid, stupid, stupid!
    Two hours later, Jason barreled up to the cabin and stopped on a dime, the brakes squealing and protesting. He was out the door before the engine stopped sputtering. The women looked at him, and he could read the panic on their faces. “C’mon, get your gear, we’re outta here. Shake it, ladies.” The women didn’t need to be told twice. They had their canvas bags over their shoulders and were at the car within seconds.
    “I need to reset the generator and shut down the pump and lock up. Did you wipe everything down that you touched, and I mean everything? Ten minutes tops.”
    “We did just what you said,” Rosalee called to his retreating back.
    “Good!” Jason bellowed in return.
    “Whose car is this?” Amalie asked.
    “I have no clue, but if I had to take a guess, I’d say it probably belongs to one of Jason’s roommates. He switched up so it would be harder to follow him. God, Amalie, what happened? I thought we were safe.”
    “I’ll tell you what happened. It’s our own fault. Mine actually. You just did what I told you to do. We never should have bolted. When we didn’t call in the way we were supposed to, 001 saw the red flag.”
    “The lady that runs the underground railroad. Is that what she’s called? You never said she was 001. Why can’t we just call her now and meet them somewhere so they can find us some place safe?”
    “It doesn’t work that way, Rosy. Didn’t you pay attention when we first got there when they told us what the rules were? They said as long as we obeyed the rules and did what they said, we would be safe. To deviate or break the rules meant they were done with us. No second chances. I blew it because I panicked when I saw that tabloid. Now we’re dependent on Jason. He’s now in as much jeopardy as we are, and it’s all my fault.”
    “Do you think they know about Jason?”
    Amalie looked at Rosalee and grimaced. “Total disclosure, remember. We told our handler about Jason the first time you met him and how you were friends. By now, they know everything there is to know about him. That’s not a bad thing, Rosalee. What’s bad is Jason is in harm’s way just the way we are. Lincoln has sources 001 wishes she had. It’s just a matter of time before he finds us.”
    Jason sprinted back to the car, his breathing ragged. “You guys ready to split this place?”
    “Yes and no,” Amalie said quietly. “Where are you going to take us? Listen, Jason, I’m sorry you got involved in this. Maybe you should just take us to a bus depot, and