Nowhere to hide

She turned the car to the right, gravel cracking under the tires, and her headlights spotlighted on her new house.

‘Oh my goodness,’ she gasped.

She’d never seen her uncle’s summer house before, but it certainly had an appeal in the wintertime too. The front garden was neat and tidy with a stone patio linking the driveway she finally owned to the curved black front door. She parked the car just in front of the garage door and got out, admiring the hedges lining her pathway and enclosing the house and garden to its surrounding road, stopping anyone from getting in.

The door didn’t even have a physical key; she got out the app she’d downloaded earlier that day with the passwords he had sent her, pressed a button and voila, she was in.

If the outside was impressive compared to the dingy old flat she was renting just a few days ago, the inside was even more magnificent. Shells of warm lighting lining the cream-coloured walls automatically popped open as she stepped in. There was a feature brick wall opposite her, and a grand spiral staircase in the middle. It was very open plan and a bit too exposing with all the open windows and partial roof, but she didn’t even have to physically draw any blinds; one press of a button and the windows darkened; now no one could see in.

She remembered to lock the front door behind her, just in case she had been followed, and hauled her suitcase up the stairs. She would get to the rest of her stuff and unpacking tomorrow. She didn’t have enough energy to change into her pyjamas; she flopped on the bed and was out just like the house’s automatic lights.

I got off the plane departing from Detroit in such exhaustion that it’s a wonder I even made it to my hotel. But I did. I went to sleep thinking about her. She was responsible for so much, for the death of so many vulnerable people, but most importantly to me, my sister. I needed justice. She needed to repay for what she took. But for now, it was all I could do to get to my hotel. I would have to deal with trying to find her in the morning.

When she woke up, at some point closer to noon than it was morning, she changed her clothes, bundled up in hat, scarf and gloves, and went out for a walk. She was raring to see the town her uncle had chosen. He was always raving about this place, and spent nearly a full three months each summer here, so it had to be good.

She passed colourful buildings, some fairly tall but no skyscrapers, of yellow and green and red and blue. Lights twinkled and winked all around the city in a post-Christmas coma. Elaborately decorated trees of ten foot or more stretched into the sky. Water in the docks and harbours she walked past shone in reflection back at her, and the smell of Danish mulled wine, the Gloggwein as it was called here, wafted into her nostrils everywhere she went; it never fully left. She stopped for a moment to overlook the buildings that were starting to get brighter with the dimming natural light, and she felt a warm, cosy glow in her chest. She was immediately at awe and at ease with the beauty and feel here; it was small enough to feel like a community, but big enough for a certain level of anonymity. She was safe. She was so sure that no one would find her here. She felt so calm in this moment, the most at peace she’d been in months.

Copenhagen was such a beautiful part of the world that she wished she’d been to before, so much more vibrant than run-down Detroit. Well, at least she was here now. Under such strange circumstances, but all the same, it was a great opportunity, a privilege to have been offered a place to stay after everything that had happened. Everything that she’d done.

I went for a walk after I had awoken from my stupor. I wrapped up warm, in my favourite beanie but no scarf. I needed to be just a little too cold, just enough to keep aware of my surroundings. She could be anywhere. I had to keep vigilant.

I passed many tall buildings, threatening to overshadow me. There were plenty of places to hide, then. I followed the many groups of tourist-y looking people until we eventually got to the town square. That was the best place to start. I flickered my wrist to see my watch. Could be a restaurant, a bar at this time of day as well as a café. I started my search.

She opened the door outside a café, and a bell tinkled. She brought her fur lined hood down, shaking off the cold, and glanced around as she took her place in the queue. She had just entered a café with history and a certain rustic charm, with contemporary unnamed paintings and framed pictures of customers lining the walls. An out-of-tune piano with a closed lid sat to the side and exposed wires connected to tacky, plastic chandeliers hung from the ceiling. The one nearest to her had five lights, but only four worked.

She moved up, analysing the display cabinet and was about to drool at the strawberry tart, but caught herself at the last minute.

‘Hi, what would you like?’

She smiled. ‘One chai latte and a slice of that tart, please,’ she said.

‘Perfect, that will be 849 DKK.’

She paid and sat on a cushioned bench, in front of the bay window, and surveyed her surroundings. She took a deep breath in; she was surrounded by people she’d have to acquaint with, eventually, with their fur coats, jeans and children in those onesies that you wear to ski. She’d never gone skiing, never been to this part of the world before, but she knew she had to immerse herself in the culture. Fit in as quickly as you can, she told herself, and you’ll have half a chance of staying hidden.

Suddenly, as she was in the middle of sipping her drink, her eye caught on something, and she stopped. Her heart sunk.

Rochelle stared her down. She looked as if she’d been watching her ever since she walked in through the door. Hell, maybe even earlier. She knew she had to match Rochelle’s face. There was no way she could back off now. She’d have to face her, even though her heart was pounding. She had come here to get away from everyone. How had they found her so quickly?

Rochelle took a last drink, finally breaking her gaze, and she thought about making a run for it while she still could. Where were the exits? Where was the door?

She glanced to the side, but by the time she’d thought about standing, she heard the clickety-clack of Rochelle’s heels and knew it was too late.

‘Long time no see, Harley,’ Rochelle said.

‘Hey, Rochelle,’ she said. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Let’s call it… a Christmas getaway, if you will. You’ve come to run away from all your problems, I see,’ Rochelle said.

‘Maybe I wanted a getaway, too,’ Harley said.

‘Well, I would probably do the same in your position. Although, I wouldn’t be in your position, because I wouldn’t ever ruin anyone’s life.’

 ‘Hmm, ain't that an exaggeration, though?’ She wanted to bullshit her way out of this conversation and leave, but she didn’t think she’d be able to. Rochelle was just too clever.

‘Hmm, let’s see… no,’ Rochelle said. ‘We both know the truth.’

Harley took a sip of her drink, stiffening up as her mind raced, trying to think about what to say next and to gauge just how much Rochelle actually knew. ‘Look, I don’t know what you think you know, but I’m just taking a little holiday before Christmas. Nothing more. Escapism, just like everyone else. Now, I would appreciate to be left alone.’

Rochelle laughed. ‘That’s hilarious. You think I’m going to let you forget what happened. What you did.’

Harley shot up, ready to leave the café. ‘I don’t have to listen to this. I deserve to enjoy my new start without accusations from people like you.’ She almost spat at her.

Rochelle was too quick, and physically blocked her move, forcing Harley to bounce back onto her seat. ‘You will listen, because I’m not going to let you keep getting away with it. Not anymore, not after what you did to my sister. No way. No fucking way!’

She slammed her fist onto Harley’s table, making the coffee cup wobble so much that it toppled over, fell onto the floor and smashed.

If people weren’t looking at them before, they were now. The whole café was silent.

Rochelle leaned in, her voice a lot quieter but with no less rage. ‘You don’t get to just disappear and pretend like nothing happened. My sister is dead because of you, Harley.’

Her chest fluttered. She glanced around, hoping someone would help her out, someone would stop Rochelle, but they only stared. They must have been paralysed by a lack of understanding of what to do, and by curiosity.

‘You’re wrong,’ Harley said, her chin wavering as she felt tears rise dangerously close to the surface. ‘You don’t understand. I didn’t do anything. It wasn’t like that. It was an accident-’

‘Don’t you dare,’ Rochelle interrupted, her eyes bearing down into Harley’s soul. She was visibly shaking. ‘You prey on people who trust you. You manipulate, destroy, then run away. You always manage to get away with it.’ Rochelle shook her head. ‘But not this time.’

Harley held in her breath for a moment, unsure how to respond. The weight of Rochelle’s words hung in the air heavily, but she was in such a state that she wouldn’t accept anything Harley said anyway, so she went for the most pathetic defence. She disgusted even herself, but she could never admit to Rochelle.

‘What do you want from me? I can’t change anything that happened. I don’t know what to say to you, apart from I’m sorry-’

‘You bitch!’ Harley could hear a stir behind the counter. Rochelle had become so agitated that they were finally doing something. ‘Sorry doesn’t do anything. It doesn’t bring her back!’ Her voice cracked, but then she straightened up. ‘You don’t get to move on, while I’m stuck picking up the pieces.’

‘I’m sorry, ma’am, but you need to leave.’

I turned around to find the barista moving towards us.

‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘This woman is-’

‘No, ma’am. I meant you. You need to leave.’

A breath caught in my throat. Harley sat there with a composed face, but I knew she was taunting me behind it all. She was the most horrible person I’d ever met. And now I was being told to go?

‘I won’t,’ I said. ‘I’m not leaving. I’m not leaving unless she goes too.’

I stepped forward and someone grabbed me from behind, restraining me.

Harley stood, putting her hands up. ‘It’s alright, I’ll go,’ she said, acting like such a saint. I’m causing her enough distress as it is.’

‘You don’t have to, ma’am.’

‘No, it’s no trouble.’ She stopped, and turned to me, dropping her voice. ‘I’m sorry, Rochelle. Truly sorry.’

I ignored her, and grabbed her shirt and whispered something to her momentarily, something only she would here. ‘You’re getting away with it now, but not forever. I will find you again.’

She smiled as the man restraining me finally grabbed my grip off her.

I watched her walk away, seeing the snow begin to flurry outside, and then my gaze drifted to the broken coffee cup on the floor. Chai latte- my sister’s favourite drink. My heart was sore with grief. The past couldn’t be reversed, and someone had to pay. She had gotten away from me this time, but she wouldn’t again. I would get my justice eventually. Harley would pay for this.