Chapter 56
Charlie kept an even pace as he moved away from the platform and, more importantly, from the commuters. There was nothing worse than feeling exposed and vulnerable. The good news, as much as good news was possible, was that the police had not yet secured the station area. The respite wouldn’t last much longer.
The call he had made to Joe was necessary, but it was also costly. He had lost valuable time, not to mention creating a witness for the police. If the police questioned the right man, somebody would have no problem placing Charlie at Wonderland.
From behind, Charlie heard the rumbling of the inbound train as it made its arrival. The air-pressured doors opened with a swoosh, which was followed by the dance between those entering and those exiting the train. It was another bit of luck. The only person who could positively ID Charlie would be gone in moments.
The parking lot offered little in terms of good hiding places. It was a vast expanse of asphalt with row upon row of cars, trucks, and SUVs. There were several stores nearby, many in adjacent lots, but those would have security cameras, not to mention more potential witnesses. If luck continued his way, he wouldn’t need to hide for long. That, of course, depended on Joe having understood their brief phone conversation.
The inbound train to Boston had yet to depart. That only added to Charlie’s mounting anxiety. Although the station platform was now deserted, he still worried about raising people’s suspicions. As far as he was concerned, the fewer people around, the better. Commuters continued arriving, but there weren’t enough people for him to get lost in a crowd.
Charlie picked up his pace, moving to the far right corner of the parking lot. It was a safe distance away from the main road. He also wanted to create as much distance between the commuters and himself as possible.
The corner of the parking lot had the advantage of giving him additional cover. It was a good hundred yards from the platform and maybe 150 yards from the main road. Nearly fifty cars were parked along the fence that secured the parking lot from the train tracks. Next, Charlie scoured the ground for something he could use to break into one of the cars. It didn’t take long to find the perfect object lying beside the chain-link fence: half of a red brick, a remnant of some past construction project.
Cupping the brick in his hand, Charlie headed to the last car in the row directly in front of the chain-link fence. The vehicle had a rear vent window, as he had hoped. The smaller window would be easier to break without attracting so much attention. He checked and made certain the driver’s side door of the silver Chevy Lumina was locked before breaking the window; there was no reason to risk unnecessary attention.
Charlie played out how it would look to the police when they started patrolling the station for him. Unless they got out of their cars, they wouldn’t see the broken window, since it was on the driver’s side of the last car in the row. There was no reason to believe they would search every car on the lot. He wasn’t even sure they had the legal authority to do so. He didn’t look suspicious, either. Anybody who saw him standing beside the car wouldn’t give it a second thought. Just another commuter on his way to work. This type of observation and situational analysis had made him a rising star at Solu-Cent; they were probably the same skills needed by a top cop, he thought with some amusement.
Charlie waited for the train to leave the station. Hoisting the brick waist high, he thrust it forward with a quick jabbing motion. The rear ventilation window shattered on impact. The sound of breaking glass was louder than Charlie had wanted. But it was partially drowned out by the departing train and the sound of police sirens roaring in the distance.
Charlie checked to see if anybody had noticed him, and felt safe to continue. He reached his hand inside the car and unlocked the driver’s side rear door. The sound of sirens grew louder. They were coming for him.
Charlie slid into the backseat of the Chevy Lumina and closed the door behind him. He kept his body low to the floor and out of view. The car, he now realized, was not the cleanest in the world. Not by a mile. And whoever owned the vehicle wasn’t much of a brand loyalist. The backseat was littered with fast-food wrappers, McDonald’s and Burger King mostly, with some Wendy’s and Dunkin’ Donuts thrown in for good measure.
The air inside was heavy and stale, as if the broken window was the first taste of fresh air the interior had ever experienced. It had the unpleasant stench of stale cigarette smoke. There was enough smoke residue and buildup on the windows that it was actually difficult to see outside. Disgusting as it was, Charlie hoped it would be equally difficult for anybody to see in, should the police start a car-by-car search of the parking lot.
The other overpowering olfactory experience was the smell of dirty laundry. Dirty clothes were strewn about the backseat: sweatshirts, pants, and crumpled dress shirts mostly.
Not only was this person unclean, Charlie thought, but it seemed he was actually living out of his car. The clothes behind the driver’s, seat covered in glass fragments, sparkled in the sunlight. Laws of probability demanded that some of the glass had also fallen to the floor, and some was surely visible on the ground outside the car. Charlie again hoped it wasn’t enough to attract the attention of the police.
Despite his preference for a cleaner hideout, he knew this was the safest place for him. How long he could remain hidden was a matter of life and death.
Charlie pressed his body to the floor, trying to ignore the sour smell of ketchup and mustard soaked into the countless fast-food wrappers discarded there. Reaching above, he pulled the clothes from the backseat atop him in an attempt to further camouflage his location. Then he waited.
The sirens in the distance continued to screech like banshees. Charlie’s body stiffened, and he tried to flatten himself even more, although he was as hidden as he could be. More sirens. Had they sent a SWAT team after him? It took all his willpower to resist the urge to pick his head up and have a look. He had to rely on what he heard to give him some sort of visual of the scene unfolding.
Car tires screeched to a stop. Was it next to the station platform entrance or closer to him? It was difficult to tell. He heard the slamming of doors, the crackling static and unintelligible commands from police scanners and radios. Then he heard a sound that made it nearly impossible to breathe. It was the sound of footsteps.