‘Shut up,’ Mary whispered.
‘No, I’m serious,’ Betsy replied, assuming that Mary was addressing her. ‘Go.’ She nodded in the direction of the labyrinth again. ‘Seriously… go.’
‘Alright.’ Mary gave in, quickening her step to get back to the corridor – two minutes to closing time. She then turned left then right and finally got back to room five – Betsy’s exhibition room.
It was empty.
Thomas was nowhere to be seen.
Annnnnd we’re back to the rabbit.
Thirty-Three
Three Days Later
Mary had spent the day walking around the world-famous neighborhood of Haight-Ashbury – without a doubt the hippest neighborhood in the whole of San Francisco and the birthplace of the Summer of Love movement in 1967. Fast forward sixty-odd years and that peace and love, ultra-artistic and creative aspect of the hippie movement was still very much present all around Haight-Ashbury – and it was that tranquil, laid-back vibe that Mary loved so much.
On her way back home, Mary stopped by Jolt N Bolt to grab a coffee and a freshly made salad bowl for her dinner.
‘Mary,’ Betsy said, as soon as Mary stepped into the bakery. ‘I’ve got a delivery for you.’ Her eyes widened and the smile that she gave Mary was a little cryptic, but enthusiastic nonetheless.
Mary paused, her brow creasing at Betsy, as her entire demeanor became one huge question mark. ‘A delivery? For me? What?’
Betsy nodded. ‘Hold on. I’ll go get it.’
As Betsy disappeared into the back of the shop, Mary felt her blood run cold, triggering an avalanche of questions inside her head. How was she getting a delivery if she hadn’t ordered anything? From who? And why deliver it to a coffee shop? Had she been found again? Had Nelson managed to somehow trackher down all the way to the west coast of the country? How was that possible?
Mary knew that she hadn’t let her guard down, not once since gangster-suit man and Nashville. No matter where she went, she still always checked the streets for anyone following her, and she always did her best to pay attention to strangers, looking for anyone who might’ve been watching her. Not once, in over seven months, had she seen any signs of a shadow.
Betsy reappeared carrying a large rectangular package, which had been wrapped in brown paper. Mary’s eyes narrowed for a second time, but this was intrigue, not apprehension. The package was large in size, but not exactly thick in volume.
‘Betsy,’ Mary asked, her head twisting right. ‘Are you sure that’s for me?’
Mary didn’t want to say that no one really knew where she lived, with the exception of the realtor who she had rented her apartment from, but that was exactly what she was thinking – how could she get a package delivered to her if no one had her address?
Betsy nodded, sending a daring wink Mary’s way. ‘Oh, I’m sure it’s for you.’ She paused for effect. ‘It’s from Thomas.’
Mary’s entire upper body angled back slightly, as if she’d just been hit by a strong gust of wind. ‘Sorry… what?’
‘It’s from Thomas,’ Betsy told her again, joining Mary by one of the tables and handing her the large package. ‘He delivered it himself earlier this afternoon.’
‘Thomas?’ Mary shook her head, trying to understand what was happening. ‘The guy from the exhibition? How did…? How did he know to come here? To this coffee shop?’ She placed the package on the table to her left.
‘He saw us together, remember? At the end of the exhibition? I was looking for you – you were in the room with him? You even introduced me to him.’
‘Yeah, of course I remember, but how did he know to come here to Jolt N Bolt?’
‘Oh, I told him to,’ Betsy replied.
‘You…’ Mary paused. This was getting confusing. ‘I thought you said you didn’t know him.’
‘I don’t… I didn’t,’ Betsy tried to clarify. ‘Well, do you remember that little catalogue that you got at the exhibition last Thursday, the one naming the artists exhibiting that evening… the works… and with the map of that crazy labyrinth?’
Mary nodded. ‘Yes, of course.’
‘OK,’ Betsy continued. ‘Well, the contact details to all the artists displaying that evening was included in there, and since he saw us together at the exhibition, he figured that we were friends.’
Mary stayed silent while she thought about it for a moment.