The Passenger Read Online Free PDF

old bag rest in peace.”
    â€œDon’t talk about your mother like that,” Blue said. She poured Dennis one more shot.
    â€œDo you have a mom?” Dennis asked Blue.
    â€œDoesn’t everyone?”
    â€œWhat was her name?”
    Blue sighed, poured herself another drink, took a sip, and said, “Janet.”
    I would have bet every last penny I had to my fake name that Blue was lying. A stupid lie, it seemed to me. But watching a bad liar made me a little queasy, like maybe it would rub off on me. I needed my skills of deception to be sharper than ever. I finished my antiseptic drink, left a few bills on the bar, and told Blue and Dennis to have a good night.
    â€œCome back anytime,” Blue said. “No one will bother you here.”
    B ECOMING A MELIA K EEN was a pain in the ass. She needed a place to live, a job, and a Texas driver’s license, which required slicing through so much bureaucratic red tape I was just about ready to move into the Texas backwoods and live off the land. I opened a bank account with my passport and fifteen hundred in cash. I tried to find an apartment, but without a job, references, or agreeing to a credit report, which struck me as a risky move, I was out of luck.
    I found a boardinghouse run by a woman named Ruth. She wore a housecoat from morning until night, her large breasts dangling beneath the flimsy fabric without any sense of modesty. The room was one hundred square feet and one hundred dollars a week. I shared a single restroom with three men. Two of them were filthy pigs, but, blessedly, the third, Marcus, had an intense cleaning disorder. He also had a pronounced tic, which involved a guttural note at the end of every sentence he spoke. This made his company, which was otherwise pleasant, agitating for someone on high alert.
    One of the hurdles between me and a Texas driver’s license was a lease agreement. When I asked Ruth for a formal rental contract, she looked at me as if I’d requested she serenade me to sleep with a violin concerto. I suggested, if she agreed to sign the paperwork, that I would pay her five hundred dollars and sign another document that essentially voided the aforementioned contract. I had a feeling she’d say yes, as long as I drew up all the paperwork.
    I went to the library that afternoon, logged on to the computer, and printed out form leases. While I had access to the Internet, I decided to check the local news in Waterloo, see how wanted a woman I really was. I typed in the website for the local rag and was met face-to-face with a grainy photo of the old me standing behind the bar. I hadn’t been accused of murder just yet. I was merely a “person of interest.” The article suggested the timing of my disappearance was suspicious. A perfectly sound assessment. Blake Shaw, who ran the Waterloo Watch and wrote just about every piece in it, resisted the urge to sensationalize the story and accuse me outright of murder. He might have had a soft spot for me. I’d never refused him service even when he could barely hold himself up on his bar stool. I just asked for his keys and poured the next drink. But it was only a matter of time before Blake and everyone else turned on me.
    I filled in the lease forms, drew up the nullification agreement, and returned to my temporary home. Ruth accepted my bribe and signed the paperwork. The only hitch in my plan was that I needed a vehicle registered in Texas to take the driver’s test. My Toyota had been purchased under my old name and still had temporary Oklahoma plates.
    Marcus had a car. I think he liked me because I didn’t leave tiny hairs in the sink. At least I think I caught him nodding hello once or twice. I decided I’d play nice with him for a while. Always said hello with a smile, which isn’t as easy as it sounds. I offered to get him more coffee in the kitchen, and I was extra careful about cleaning up in the bathroom and publicly