Page 74 of Shielding Instinct

“How would that be useful?”

“Depends on where they’re going,” Petra said. “They didn’t need passports to get this far. If they were in a different country and needed to show them to someone, would it flag anything? I think that depends on the entity and the country.”

“If I were on the lam, would I try to use my real passport? That seems risky.” Rowan trailed the last word, then said, “Okay, take a step back. What would I do if I wanted to get gone? I’d sell everything to get as much cash together as I could. That would make sense if I were going to prison for the next ten years—house, cars, furnishings, cash out the 401(k). Liquify any stocks. I could say that this allowed me to give the money to the kids’caregiver – one would assume family. But you wouldn’t hand over the money until you handed over the kids, right? But Avery, you can’t pack that much money in a suitcase.”

“Bitcoin.”

“True,” Rowan said. “Easily bought, then untraceable and accessible anywhere in the world.”

“Exactly,” Petra exclaimed. “Then I’d go to a place that’s the farthest point from the contiguous US that I could without using my passport– maybe to a territory where federal laws have a lighter impact. Someplace like here.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And then I might go for a boat ride with the family one day.”

“Fishing trip,” Rowan said.

“With a cooler of food that’s actually stuff I need, backpacks with our clothes. Then I’d head to South America, where I’d get off at any local dock and, therefore, not be watched by customs. Buy a car for cash. Travel over borders at non-border areas, move slowly but surely to Colombia or Ecuador.”

“I’d probably head to the Solomon Islands,” Rowan said.

“Laos would be nice.” Petra looked out the window. Cooper knew where she was and was watching her. “Staying in Colombia or Ecuador would be a boat ride instead of a plane. Anyway, that’s what I’d do. I’d still be stressed about becoming a fugitive, but a lot less stressed than thinking I was headed to federal prison away from my kids.”

“I see,” Rowan sounded far away in thought. “It reminds me of an article I read about an Italian guy who committed fraud. Did you read about him?”

She shuffled her feet in the flip-flops that were thrust into her hands at the rescue with a “here, take these.” She realized that they were two different colors and sizes. “It’s not ringing any bells.”

“According to the reporting, this Italian guy tried living in places without extradition, but it was always tenuous. He could be rounded up and repatriated at any moment.”

“Where’s this?” She traced a finger around the hole in her dress.

“Dubai was where he had been living.”

“Okay, I can see where Italy might be able to craft some kind of diplomatic understanding if this was a big enough fish.”

Rowan laughed. “More of a public fish, so they didn’t want people to think they could get away with impactful financial crimes. Fish is an appropriate term here because the guy bought a barge and has been living on it in international waters.”

“How does he eat besides fishing?” Petra asked.

“He has a garden and some chickens. People deliver food to him.”

Petra stilled. “Isn’t that aiding and…nope, it wouldn’t be. When they hand over the supplies, they’d be on the high seas, too. Not that I understand the laws of the open waters. And I honestly don’t want to. I just have a really funny feeling about this family, Rowan. They’re so squeaky.”

“Squeaky,” he let his mouth play with the word as he repeated it. “I’m not sure how to imagine that.”

“Think of a family that is social media perfect. You know that she’s the kind of mom who unpackages her groceries and puts them in containers to stock her fridge, and she has tens of thousands of people watching her do it.”

“That’s a thing?” Rowan asked.

“Very soothing, apparently. Does nothing for me. But you can imagine the family I’m talking about. Dad is handsome enough. Mom is an international adventure racer who also bakes bread and is unperturbed by reality.”

“I’m pulling up social media and putting in a search for stocking a fridge.” Rowan went silent. “There are all of thesepeople on here doing something called fridgescaping. They’re putting vases of flowers in their fridge.”

“A nice little pick me up, and they last forever in the cold like that.”

Rowan snort-laughed. “Tell me you do this.”

“Me? No. Hey Rowan, I don’t mean to take up your day off with things that aren’t in your wheelhouse,” Petra said. “Thanks for listening. Now that I’ve said it out loud to another FBI special agent, I feel like I’m no longer personally responsible.”

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