Thomas Perry - Runner, A Jane Whitefield Novel

The Butcher's Boy
Metzger's Dog
Big Fish
Island
Sleeping Dogs
Vanishing Act
Dance for the Dead
Shadow Woman
The Face-Changers
Blood Money
Death Benefits
Pursuit
Dead Aim
Nightlife
Silence
Fidelity

A N O TTO P ENZLER B OOK
H OUGHTON M IFFLIN H ARCOURT
Boston New York
2009

Copyright 2009 by Thomas Perry

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical,
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Perry, Thomas, 1947
Runner/Thomas Perry.1st ed.
p. cm.
"An Otto Penzler book."
1. Whitefield, Jane (Fictitious character)Fiction. 2. Indian women
Fiction. 3. Seneca IndiansFiction. 4. IndiansMixed descent
Fiction. 5. Runaway teenagersFiction. 6. Teenage
pregnancyFiction. 7. KidnappingFiction. I. Title.
PS3566.E718R86 2009
813'.54dc22 2008007119
ISBN 978-0-15-101528-3

Text set in Sabon
Designed by Lydia D'moch

Printed in the United States of America

First edition
A C E G I K J H F D B

To Jo, Alix, and Isabel

The girl kept half-turning in the back seat to stare out the rear window of the cab, as though she were being chased across Buffalo to the hospital. It made Pete Sawicki as nervous as she was. He kept flicking his eyes to the rearview mirror, but all the way to the hospital he saw trucks, people driving station wagons to the supermarket, kids throwing baseballs beside empty streetsnothing at all that was suspicious except her. He pulled up to the emergency room entrance and got out of his cab to open her door.

She had a pretty face. She was very young, maybe even jailbait, with long light brown hair, eyes that looked gray-green, full lips that seemed to pout as she concentrated on getting out of the back seat of the cab. Pete held his hand out to help her, but she deflected his attention with a look that went past him as though he were gone already. Usually somebody who wanted a cab ride to the hospital emergency room wanted a hand.

She stood and once again her belly showed, stood out from her body under the loose shirt. It was none of his business, but Petecouldn't help seeing the pregnancy as tragic in somebody her age. How could it not be?

"How much?" she said, her hand already moving into her purse.

"Eight bucks."

She frowned. "It can't be."

He pretended to look inside at the meter, and chuckled to himself. "You're right. It's twelve." He took the fifteen dollars she handed him. "Thanks. And thanks for noticing that." He stepped around the cab to his door, watched her walking to the emergency room, and waited until he saw the glass doors slide open to admit her and then close. He got back into the cab, reached into his pocket, took out a ten-dollar bill to pay for the rest of her fare, and put it into the cashbox. Then he drove out the circular drive. He supposed he would head out to the airport and take a place in the line there. It was still early in the day and flights from the west would start coming in soon.

At the reception desk the woman in the uniform told the girl to sit and wait, but the triage nurse came out only a couple of minutes later and brought her into an office. The nurse said, "If you've got to be in the emergency room, you picked a good time. Beginning in the late afternoon, things get pretty hectic." The girl recited the symptoms as well as she could remember them, and then she had to answer the nurse's questions. Some were the obvious ones anyone would ask a pregnant woman, and some seemed to be all-purpose questions for emergency rooms. If you answered yes to any of them, you would belong in a hospital.

When the nurse started to stand, the girl said abruptly, "Do you happen to know a woman named Jane Whitefield?"

"I'm not sure. I may have heard the name. Why?"

"Oh, it's not important. Somebody I know told me if I was in this hospital I should say hello for her."

"It's a big hospital. I'm going to have you wait in an examining room. A doctor will be in to see you shortly."

The girl sat on the narrow bed in the small white room to wait for the doctor. She felt stupid, humiliated. Why would anybody ask her to say hello to somebody in an emergency room? Her mistake made her more nervous. She looked at the complicated telephone mounted on the wall. It made no sound, but she could see colored lights along the top, some steady and others blinkinggreen, red, and yellow. She stood and looked at it more closely. Maybe she could find the right button to make an announcement over the hospital's public-address system. She had a professional-sounding telephone voice. If she could find the right button, she could say, "Jane White-field, please report to the emergency room. Jane Whitefield, there is a patient to see you in the emergency room." It would be a huge risk, because they might throw her out or even have her arrested, but she had to do something.

The girl stepped closer and looked for labels on the buttons, then heard a woman's voice talking, growing louder as the woman came up the hall. The girl turned away from the phone and heard the swish of fabric as the woman stepped into the room. The woman was brown-skinned, about forty years old, and seemed to be from the Middle East or Asia. She wore a starched white coat with a gold name tag. "Christine?"

"Yes."

"I'm Dr. Depredha. Are you in pain? Are you having cramps now?"

"Once in a while they come back."

"Bleeding?"

"I think it stopped."

Dr. Depredha touched Christine's forehead, then took her stethoscope and pressed it against Christine's neck for a few seconds. "All right. Let's get you undressed and I'll give you a brief exam, so we'll know more." She opened a drawer, took out a package, and tore it open. Christine could see it was a gown. "You can put this on, and I'll be back in a minute." She started out, pulling the door after her.

"Doctor?"

"Yes?"

"Do you know a woman named Jane Whitefield?"

"Sounds familiar. Is she a doctor?"

"I don't know. Someone I know said I might run into her here."

One of Dr. Depredha's perfect curved eyebrows gave an eloquent upward twitch that conveyed sympathy, apology, and yet, a businesslike urgency. "I haven't been here long. I'll be back." She went out and closed the door.

Christine's heart was beating faster. She was feeling more and more panicky. Sweat dampened her shirt and nausea was coming on. She had come so far, and she was so frightened. Now that she was here, the place seemed to be a lot of blank, unknowing faces and closed doors, and she had no idea how long she would be safe here. She fought the impulse to step out the door and run, and began to undress. This was the plan she had chosen. She had to carry it through and give it a chance to work. If she couldn't find Jane Whitefield, at least maybe she could stay here long enough to rest.

Dr. Depredha hurried out to the reception area and spotted the big security officer near the doors to the parking lot. As shestepped toward him she saw his head turn, his dark, intelligent eyes see her, and his black face smile down at her. "Mr. Mathews."