To be covert

As she left the building she heard the sirens approaching. They would be here soon enough and know that she had killed that man. It was time to leave this city. She pulled out her cell phone and dialed the number. He answered on the first ring,
“I’m leaving.” She said.
“I saw a breaking news story about a man killed at an accounting firm in Chicago.” He replied
“I was careless, I got too settled, it won’t happen again. I will call you when I find a new place.” With that she hung up the phone and hailed a taxi. When she arrived at the train station she made her way to the bank of lockers on the lower level. She dug out the key from her bag and opened up the locker. Inside were a small leather bag and a suitcase. She opened the leather bag found the car keys buried under the stacks of cash. The car was parked at a lot on 59th street and it was her ticket out of this town. She grabbed the bag and the suitcase and made her way to the bathroom. The women’s bathroom on the lower level of the train station was where the junkies went to shoot up; it was the perfect place to change her appearance. She took a pair of scissors out of her bag and began to cut off her long blond hair. She was good with a pair of scissors and once she had found a new city she could get it cleaned up by professional. When she was finished cutting the woman in the mirror looked completely different. She looked older, although she could still pass for someone 10 years younger, she looked more professional and eerily she looked like Mia Farrow in Rosemary’s Baby. In her bag she also had a box of hair dye. She dyed her hair, turning it a medium brown. It always surprised her how much a haircut and dye could change your appearance. She gathered up all her supplies and went into one of the bathroom stalls to change into the jeans and sweater from the suitcase. Once she had changed she put the suit along with the hair dye and hair in three separate plastic bags, pulled on a leather jacket and walked out of the bathroom. As she left the train station she dumped the bag of hair dye in a trash can and turned north to walk toward her car. The car was parked three miles from the train station and along the way she could dump the last two plastic bags. When she reached the parking lot she fished the keys out of her purse and opened the trunk, throwing in her suitcase and the bag of money. She had no real plan other then to head west out of the city. She got into the car, started the engine and drove out of the lot heading toward the interstate once on the interstate she headed west toward Iowa. As she left the city limits she glanced into her rearview mirror and caught a glimpse of the skyline. She had enjoyed her time in Chicago. It had been an excellent home base with a good airport with flights everywhere. She had made a few friends and had enjoyed her cover job. She was going to miss this city. She regretted that. Regretted that she had become somewhat attached to this place. In her line of work that was something to be avoided. No attachments. The next city she would not let seep into her skin like this one had. She was determined to keep her distance. She did not like this feeling of loss and for the first time in 15 years she questioned her choice of career.