Part 6:

"Thanks, I appreciate it." Frederick ended the call, not divulging the identify of the caller, then shot a knowing glance at Anita. True to his word, Jackson had alerted the authorities with details on them both.

Frederick shoved his hands deep within his pockets. Walking deliberately toward their second story bedroom window, he stared out at the storm passing through the dark night. Rain pounded the pane in tune with the veins on his neck.

After a long moment, he turned and stared at Anita, his mind fixed on the decision he already knew he would make.

Thinking of the consequences, he acknowledged that society will say he was a hard-core criminal. On the softer side, they'll say we was merely a scapegoat. Still others will label him as a coward and weak, easily manipulated. The truth was that after his return from Jackson's office, he'd gladly take on all the labels attached to him. The reason he admitted to himself: he loved his wife.

So with a steely countenance, he turned to face her. "You should go. There's not much time." He retrieved the suitcase from the floor, then quickly grabbed Anita's remaining clothes from the closet.

Anita watched as he pounded the suitcase shut, then organized her briefcase, ensuring the laptops were included. Frowning, she spun around holding her head in her hands, then plopped down on the bed, hanging her head low.

"No, I can't!"* she shouted, then unlatched the suitcase and began unpacking.*

"What the hell are you doing? Don't you know what this will mean if you're caught?" Frederick paused, then continued, "look, Jackson threatened to name me as a conspirator, but he didn't," he lied. "I'm not worried about me. You need to save yourself."

Anita rose from the bed and headed toward the kitchen to pour herself a vodka shot. She eased down on their couch, leaned her head back, and stared at the ceiling. With a quietness in her voice, the words trickled out as wearily as her half-closed eyes.

"I'm tired, Frederick. Dead tired of cheating my way through life and hiding. If I make it out of this place, they'll hunt me from the other side. I've too much information. I've known it for a while."

Frederick's shoe print carved a path in the shag. Pausing, he frowned. "Show me the evidence you gathered on Jackson." He didn't explain how or when he would leverage the information. Anita produced the encrypted files and videos of Jackson meeting with a businessman. Frederick's eyes widened upon hearing his name mentioned frequently during conversations. "Replace him, he's getting too close" rang out loud and clear.

So it was true, to an extent.

Angry tears fell. He didn't know whom he hated the most, Jackson or Anita. All Frederick did know was that both used him. But something he detected in Jackson's voice sent shivers down his spine as the intent in the conversation became clearer.

Anita watched as Frederick shut off the recording. He almost ran to the bedroom, yelling for her to follow. There, he packed his own luggage, grabbed her suitcase, scooped up important papers, then yelled for her to do the same.

Within thirty minutes, the apartment was empty of all evidence. The door slammed as they rushed from the apartment. Opting to drive his car, they sped away in the night, rain following them as they headed east out of town. Focused on putting distance between himself and Jackson, Frederick refused to look backward, He had no idea where they were going; and no plan how they'd evade the authorities.

He just knew that he loved his wife.

Now, Part 7:

And now Frederick had all the proof he needed to identify his real enemy. How could I have been so blind all these years, he lamented while driving at top speed. Anita couldn't feel his angst. She could only glimpse its evidence as his knuckles turned white gripping the steering wheel. Suddenly, he slammed hard on the brakes several times to avoid rear ending other cars.

"Slow down," Anita ordered. "We'll get pulled over before we can make it out of town,"* she urged, rubbing the back of Frederick's neck. The warning fell on deaf ears as he increased speed.

A plan was formulating. How solid it was, he wasn't sure.

But all Anita could think of as she focused on the watery landscape from the passenger side window was the moment she realized that she truly loved her husband. "I'm not worried about me, just save yourself," he pleaded. No one she'd ever known in her shady world had been willing to sacrifice himself for her.

Immediately without thinking she blurted out, "I used you", pausing, then "to get to Jackson." Through teary eyes, she continued quickly. "All I could see was taking him down to further my own rise in the organization."

"Are you two on the same side?" he queried, puzzled at the layout of their criminal activity.

Anita fell silent, debating on how much to divulge that moment. Realizing that Frederick was willing to save her, she laid out the intricacies of the two competing groups.

Apparently, the organization's vision that Jackson was involved with included capturing the Western publishing market. He migrated ten years ago; laying low, making contacts, recruiting writers, and setting up a cover business, but legitimate. You have no idea the width of their organization. Half operate underground on the dark web.

"You and your sleazy group aren't exactly girl or boy scout material. You're stealing from honest, creative, hard working writers," Frederick fired back without taking his eyes off the road, but immediately regretted.

"I realize that, and not proud of my role." Anita's voice trailed off. "That group put us all at risk. We're content to operate overseas. There's enough money to keep everyone happy for decades, but they want it all. They didn't realize the protocols put in place in the West. Too difficult to maneuver. Too many politicians to handle. They're soft. Will roll over on you at the first hint of an investigation."

Frederick didn't respond; just kept driving.

Anita fell silent again, attempting to formulate her own plan since Frederick hadn't divulged his. She commended him silently for his efforts, but she already knew he wasn't in the same league as she or Jackson.

Only a short distance ahead, about thirty miles out of the city, she located a small area she'd scoped out before under the bridge would suffice. She reached over and shook Frederick's shoulder, then pointed toward the embankment.

"Pull over and head down that direction," she guided his gaze.

"It's too wet, we'll get bogged down," he replied with a deep frown.

"I hope we do," she nodded as the rain slowed. Frederick glared back at her as if finally grasping her next move.

On the highway, drivers sped by hurrying to their destinations without any regard to the couple beyond the guardrail they witnessed standing huddled outside their vehicle. An odd place for romance in this inclement weather the drivers must have concluded as none stopped to render aid.

Donned in their hoodies and jogging attire, they worked quickly to remove the belongings. From his backpack, Frederick retrieved the tools to lift off the license plates and windshield stickers.

With Anita's assistance, Frederick positioned the car, ensuring it would crash into the bayou.

They stood staring at each other for a long moment, then with hands locked, they turned and ran under the bridge and emerged on the other side.

With their backs to the highway, they disappeared into the dense woods.

[to be continued]

For my theme, I was inspired by and utilized the @daily.prompt's publishing of 20 october 2024, @mariannewest's Freewrite Writing Prompt Day 2531: lack of credibility.