Eleven Hours
Eleven Hours
Paullina Simons
A compelling, heartrending tale of a woman in danger and the man who’s desperate to find her, from the internationally bestselling author of TULLY and ROAD TO PARADISEA heavily pregnant young woman is leaving the shopping mall to head home on a horribly hot day in Texas. Her normal life of shopping, husband, children, with the extra excitement of the imminent baby, stretches before her.And then she is bundled into a car and kidnapped by a desperate young man.What does he want? Where are they going?In scenes that alternate between the desperate husband, pursuing by car, the alarmingly laid-back FBI agent tracing her by helicopter - who may or may not be as good as he thinks at rescuing hostages - and the increasingly threatened wife, Eleven Hours is a tour de force of storytelling power.
PAULLINA SIMONS
ELEVEN HOURS
Copyright (#ulink_2dd356cc-6753-5c95-abf7-35be93b0b278)
Harper An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published in Great Britain by Flamingo an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1998
Copyright © Paullina Simons 1998
Paullina Simons asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Source ISBN: 9780006551119
Ebook Edition © MARCH 2015 ISBN: 9780007397310
Version: 2015-03-09
For my third child
It was not you that sent me here.
JOSEPH TO HIS BROTHERS, GEN. 45:9
Table of Contents
Cover Page (#u8a6920d0-7829-5fb3-9a03-82141a041e71)
Title Page (#u3633b579-c6f1-5083-a573-906dfb216a73)
Copyright (#u1347dfca-c530-5d28-aacd-45ee94adf9d3)
Epigraph (#uc23e15f8-2ea0-5d91-a7f6-931afeaf04a3)
11.45 AM (#u882c3b5e-31e8-58c3-bdcd-b88e996dc18c)
12.58 PM (#ue0f45c99-163c-5e62-8850-186dba0822fa)
1.20 PM (#uad186243-1b2c-5ca1-8755-ada4bb03549c)
1.25 PM (#u30310b19-f685-5154-9b78-6ac12ac78b9a)
1.30 PM (#uaa6b2910-610e-5ae2-bc76-cb52492b9040)
1.45 PM (#u9758fb42-0884-500c-bd17-224161ff295b)
1.45 PM (#u6ad70c85-0741-5093-973e-ce8e886470cd)
2.20 PM (#u2c5b1500-d544-50d3-9bdc-890abeeeaed5)
2.30 PM (#ud0220278-c57f-523f-8496-1fc7b4980da6)
3.25 PM (#ud166a21c-a32b-5c92-bd26-523ba8c2e819)
3.30 PM (#u11b93344-6226-5c2d-b581-86a8178a2acd)
3.31 PM (#uecbb3085-ebea-5195-a3de-3a270f537499)
3.40 PM (#u80287163-7a1e-5963-990c-24e5d93a7ac3)
3.45 PM (#uc8b29c94-df4c-54d7-90bd-220739daf7f6)
4.00 PM (#uba2211b0-60a4-5bb5-8d36-214fe97df27b)
4.15 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
4.30 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
4.45 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
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5.10 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
5.20 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
5.20 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
5.30 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
6.11 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
6.30 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
7.00 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
7.15 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
7.45 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
8.00 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
8.05 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
8.40 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
9.00 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
9.00 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
9.20 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
9.30 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
9.45 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
10.00 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
10.05 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
10.17 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
10.20 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
10.20 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
10.35 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
10.35 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Keep Reading (#litres_trial_promo)
Acknowledgments (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
Also by the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
11.45 AM (#ulink_f085f590-647c-559b-93a5-ea027a8cd33e)
Didi Wood was walking to the mall from her car when her pregnant belly began to tighten until it felt like a taut basketball. She winced through her discomfort and slowed down to a near halt; this contraction was particularly strong. She leaned against a minivan, rubbing her belly with one hand as she wiped her forehead with the other. Maybe she shouldn’t go to the mall. But she had promised Amanda new alphabet blocks a few days ago, and she wanted to keep her promise. Also, she needed new face cream.
Didi thought it was a good day for the air-conditioned comfort shopping provided. Dallas was having a brief heat spell. It was called summer. She contemplated driving to Rich’s office and spending the hour before their lunch date relaxing on his small sofa, but decided to stay. She’d be all right. It was only an hour.
She couldn’t wait to get inside the mall. When she had left the house earlier for her doctor’s appointment, the temperature had already been in the high nineties. A radio bulletin had informed her there was a heat advisory on – for old ladies, for small children, and for women in Didi’s delicate condition.
Perspiring and uncomfortable, she waddled into NorthPark.
Estée Lauder had something for her at Dillard’s. The last thing Didi needed was more cosmetics, but who was she to refuse a little gift from a big department store? She was offered moisture-rich black mascara, two lipsticks whose shades she didn’t particularly like, a perfume sampler, a pocket brush, some hand cream, and a makeup bag. It was the makeup bag she wanted.
The gift was free – with a $17.50 purchase.
Didi thought it was uncanny the way Estée Lauder never priced her products at $17.50. Oh, there was plenty for $15, all kinds of lipsticks and eyeliners and mascaras. And there was plenty for $30, $50, and $72. Nothing actually for $17.50.
To get the free gift, Didi spent $108.75 – plus tax. She bought a jar of Fruition face cream, a rose lipstick for spring, even though it was July, and a teal eye pencil for her brown eyes. While she was waiting to pay, Didi felt the Belly tighten again. She grasped the counter.
‘Oh,’ the girl behind the counter said. ‘Not long now?’
Didi managed to nod.
‘When are you due?’
The contraction passed, and Didi looked at her watch. ‘In about two hours,’ she said lightly.
After seeing the frightened expression on the salesgirl’s pretty face, Didi said, ‘Just kidding. I guess you don’t have any kids – two weeks.’
The salesgirl breathed a short sigh of relief and smiled. ‘Whew,’ she said. ‘You’re right, I don’t have any kids. Not yet, anyway.’ Then, with a little nervous laugh, she asked. ‘You’re not in labor, are you?’
‘No, no,’ Didi said, outwardly smiling but inwardly fretting, wishing the girl would hurry with her receipt. She wanted to get to FAO Schwarz. She added, ‘I’m having these little fake contractions. Braxton Hicks, they’re called. They’re a pain, but they’re not the real thing. Believe me, they’re nothing like the real thing.’
The girl giggled. ‘Oh, gosh, I’m never having kids. It’s just all so scary, the labor, the pregnancy.’ The girl handed Didi the receipt.
‘It’s not too bad,’ Didi said, signing her name. ‘It’s really not too bad at all. You forget right away.’
‘Bet you don’t,’ said the girl.
‘No you do,’ said Didi. ‘You have to. Otherwise we’d never have more than one baby.’
‘I guess you’re right,’ said the girl, looking at Didi’s face. ‘Your skin is so nice. Do you use any foundation?’
Didi pushed the signed receipt toward the girl and reached for her makeup, which the girl wasn’t giving her. ‘I’m done here. Thanks anyway. Can I have my stuff, please?’
‘Oh, sure, sure,’ said the girl, handing her the bag. ‘Well, good luck.’
Didi smiled. ‘Have a nice day.’
In FAO Schwarz, the matronly woman behind the counter complimented Didi on her sleeveless yellow sundress. ‘Banana Republic,’ replied Didi.
‘Oh, I didn’t know they did maternity,’ said the saleswoman.
‘They don’t,’ Didi said. ‘It’s an extra large.’ She hated saying ‘extra large,’ but she didn’t like being ashamed of her size either. The woman handed her the bags and said, ‘Are you going to be okay with these? They’re kind of heavy.’
‘I’ll be fine,’ said Didi. ‘I only have a few more stops to make.’
She was glad NorthPark wasn’t as busy as it was on Saturdays. She didn’t like to push through crowds with her bags and the Belly.
In Coach, Didi bought herself a new leather purse. It was brown, medium-sized, and on sale for $60, down from $120. With the $60 saved, she bought herself a wallet.
‘When are you due?’ asked the lady helping her.
‘Two weeks,’ replied Didi, holding on to the Belly. She needed to sit. Gravity was pulling the baby down. Didi needed him or her to stay inside for a few more weeks. She and Rich were planning an escape to Lake Texoma in Oklahoma the following weekend.
‘Do you know what it’s going to be?’
Didi shook her head. ‘We want to be surprised,’ she said.
‘That’s nice,’ said the lady. ‘I couldn’t do that. I wanted to know with my two kids. I have two boys.’
Didi smiled, signing the American Express receipt. ‘That’s nice. We have two girls. Do you like having two boys?’
‘Oh, yes,’ said the lady. Before Didi had a chance to reply, the woman said, ‘They’re a handful. But I wanted to try again for a girl. My husband said no more. What if we continue having boys for ten years? Two’s plenty, he said. Who am I to argue, right? He pays the bills. I only work to make myself a little extra for the holidays, you know?’
Didi smiled and nodded knowingly. ‘We would like a boy,’ she admitted. ‘But it doesn’t matter. Boy or girl, we’re done after this one.’
‘I hear you, sister,’ said the saleslady.
Didi laughed. ‘I’m sure your boys must be wonderful,’ she said.
‘Oh, no, they’re terrors,’ said the lady. ‘Five and seven. Absolute terrors.’
As she walked out of Coach, Didi smelled something sweet and delicious. She looked at her watch. 12.20. Lunch with Richie in forty minutes. She remembered their fight last night and sighed. No. She was meeting Rich in forty minutes, but that didn’t mean she would be eating in forty minutes because there would be more arguing, recriminations, and apologies before food was ordered and served. Didi thought it could be as long as an hour and a half before she saw actual food. That was just too long to wait. She had a hankering for something now, something that didn’t include bickering. A sweet pretzel would do nicely.
Didi headed for the Freshens Yogurt stand, which also sold pretzels. She knew she had only two speeds – slow and very slow. Weighed down with thirty pounds of baby and baby nesting plus Dillard’s, FAO Schwarz, and Coach shopping bags in her hands, she felt as if she were moving only through inertia, which dictated that bodies in motion stay in motion. She wished she were a body at rest.
‘Could I have an almond pretzel, please?’ Didi asked the teenage boy behind the counter. The words came out softly between short breaths.
‘Sure. Would you like any topping on it?’ he asked her.
‘No, thank you. Just a pretzel.’ A second later, she said, ‘Make that two. And some water, please.’
‘One pretzel for you, one for the baby,’ a voice next to her said. She turned her head to the right and found herself face to face with a young man. He had a wide friendly smile on his face. She smiled back, but – something in his face thinned her own smile. A small pit opened up inside her stomach. The feeling reminded her of high school days when she’d meet someone cute and her heart would fall a foot in her chest.
The falling didn’t come because he was cute, and her heart didn’t skip because she was excited. Her heart skipped because the man was looking at her with a warm smile of familiarity, with the smile of someone who’d known her for ages. Didi was sure she’d never met him.
There was something else odd about him, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
Reluctantly, she acknowledged him. ‘No, actually. One for me, one for my husband. The baby eats plenty as it is.’
‘Yeah, those babies can get mighty hungry,’ he said. ‘My wife had a baby boy a little while ago.’
‘That’s nice,’ she said, turning away from him. ‘Congratulations.’
‘Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?’ asked the guy behind the counter, handing Didi a white paper bag with two pretzels in it.
‘No. It doesn’t really matter,’ Didi said evasively.
‘Oh, you say it doesn’t matter,’ the friendly man beside her said. ‘But you know it matters a lot. We all want what we want.’
‘No, really,’ Didi said, wishing he would stop talking to her. ‘As long as the baby’s healthy.’ She studied him briefly. He was somewhere in his late twenties, clean-shaven, neatly dressed, thin, and of medium height. His light brown hair was carefully trimmed above his ears. He had blue or green eyes; Didi couldn’t be sure in the artificial light of the mall and didn’t want to look at him that closely. Underneath his navy nylon jacket he wore a white shirt. He wasn’t bad-looking.
‘Bet your husband wants a boy, though,’ the man said.
He doesn’t know I have a husband, Didi thought, and then remembered mentioning that one of the pretzels was for her husband. She was instantly upset with herself. Why am I being unkind to him? she thought. I’m being unkind and unchristian.
‘Bet your husband wants a boy, though,’ the man repeated evenly.
‘If he does, he isn’t telling,’ Didi said quickly. She took out three dollars and paid for the pretzels.
Taking a gulp of water, she gave the cup back to the salesclerk to throw out. She didn’t have a free hand to carry a drink. Throwing the change inside her purse, Didi said in a friendly voice, ‘Well, have a nice day.’
‘Yeah, you too,’ said the guy behind the counter.
The man followed her as she walked away from the store. Didi tried to speed up but realized it was impossible. He came up beside her and said, ‘Hey. Do you need help with those bags? They look so heavy.’
Didi tried to speed up again. Did she look as if she was languishing? ‘They’re fine, not too bad at all,’ she said. ‘But thanks. Have a nice day, okay?’
‘You sure? I don’t mind helping. Don’t have much to do right now. Really.’
She tried not to look at him. A troubled feeling settled on her heart – no, she thought, she was being silly.
She saw a Warner Bros store. ‘Really, I’m fine,’ she said, moving away from him. ‘Thanks anyway.’
She walked into the store without looking back, but the heaviness didn’t leave her chest.
Didi went toward the children’s section and looked around, putting down her bags and taking a few bites of the pretzel.
Suddenly she was no longer hungry and had lost her desire to shop. Deciding to call Rich, Didi pulled the cell phone out of her handbag. The cell phone was defective, with the number seven missing because little Reenie had eaten it on one of their weekend trips to Lake Texoma. It was time to get a new one.
What was odd about that man aside from his open smile? He acted as if he knew her, but that wasn’t what was odd. Something else. She wanted to cross herself. What’s the matter with you, Didi? she whispered, intently studying the plush Tasmanian Devils. Why are you being so uncharitable? He was just trying to help.
Her husband wasn’t picking up. What else was new? His message machine answered. ‘It’s just me,’ Didi said after the beep. ‘Calling from the mall, hoping I could meet you a little earlier.’ She paused and thought about turning around. ‘It’s okay. I’ll see you at one, I guess. Bye.’
She picked out a couple of T-shirts for her girls and turned to walk to the cash register. She saw him immediately. He was near the Tweety Bird clocks. He appeared to have forgotten her completely.
At the register, Didi took out cash to speed the transaction.
‘Linda, look!’ the salesgirl exclaimed to another salesgirl. Then to Didi, ‘Wow, you’re really pregnant.’
‘Yeah,’ said Didi, smiling as kindly as she could. ‘I’m also in a real hurry, so…’ She slid two twenties across the counter, but the money didn’t impress the salesgirls.
‘When are you due?’ Linda asked, looking warmly at her.
‘Just a few weeks,’ Didi said, chewing her lip. The salesgirl scanned the T-shirt tags with near-deliberate slowness. Didi thought of walking out, but she didn’t want the man to think she was nervous or in a hurry. She wanted him to think she had forgotten him completely, too.
‘Do you know what you’re having?’ asked Linda.
‘No, I have no idea,’ said Didi.
‘Don’t want to know?’
‘No, not really.’ Didi started tapping her fingernails on the counter. The nails were short, and the tapping wasn’t satisfying.
‘Oh, I’d want to know,’ Linda said.
Didi pushed the twenties so far to the edge of the counter that they fell to the floor. The salesgirl said, ‘Oh, look – your money.’ And for some reason she found the falling cash amusing and laughed. Linda chuckled with her. Didi tried to smile.
Suddenly, Didi sensed someone standing behind her and felt afraid.
She willed herself to turn around. An elderly gray-haired man in a suit nodded politely to her. The man in the jacket was still near Tweety Bird. Didi felt both relieved and silly.
Linda moved to help the elderly man, while Didi’s salesgirl looked for a bag for the T-shirts. ‘The total came to twenty-eight seventeen,’ she said cheerfully. ‘Did you only give me a twenty?’
‘I’m sorry,’ Didi said. ‘Two twenties fell on the floor. Listen, if it’s too much trouble –’
‘No, no, of course, two twenties.’ The girl bent down, picking up the money. She keyed forty dollars into the register. ‘Your change is eleven eighty-three,’ she said, taking the money out of the drawer. ‘That’s twenty-nine –’ giving Didi the change, and then counting the paper money – ‘thirty, and two fives makes forty.’
Didi could not help snatching the money. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Have a nice day.’
‘Yeah, you too,’ said the girl, and yelled after her, ‘Good luck with the labor and everything!’
Didi cringed.
After she walked out of Warner Bros, she wasn’t sure what to do next. She glanced back. He wasn’t there anymore.
Should she go to her car? Yes, yes, she should. No, wait. She wanted to make a quick stop at Victoria’s Secret.
She looked over her shoulder to see if he was following her. This is ridiculous, Didi thought. He seemed a perfectly nice man.
A few days earlier she and her girlfriend Penny had been at the Collin Creek Mall when a man who looked a little like this one offered to take Didi’s bags to the car. He didn’t even offer. He just picked up the bags and carried them, saying, ‘Let me help you with these.’ Didi thanked him, got in the car, and went to the movies with Penny. It had been raining, and Penny commented what a nice man he had been to help them.
Didi felt better with this recollection as she walked into Victoria’s Secret.
‘Hi, can I help you?’ An attractive thin girl walked toward her. Didi always noticed the thinness of other women when she was pregnant. Especially in a place like this. It made her feel self-conscious to ask for a negligee or underwear in extra large. The girls always went to the back of the store for that. Sometimes they loudly delegated the task to someone else. ‘Janice, can you go and check if we have an extra large in the red satin underwear, please?’
Glad to see there was no one in the store this afternoon, Didi asked for something silky and sexy for the hospital.
‘I have just the thing for you,’ said the salesgirl. ‘When are you due?’
‘Monday,’ said Didi.
‘As in today, Monday?’ The girl’s eyes opened wide.
‘Maybe not today,’ Didi said pleasantly. ‘But I’m hoping to have my baby on a Monday.’
‘Is Monday your lucky day or something?’
Nodding, Didi said, ‘It is my lucky day, I guess. I was born on a Monday. My second daughter was born on a Monday, and it was a pretty easy delivery, so that was lucky. Much easier than the first, which was on a Saturday.’
‘Maybe the easy labor was because she was second and all,’ the salesgirl said.
‘You’re right,’ said Didi. ‘But it’s still my lucky day.’
‘Well, let’s pray it’s not today,’ said the salesgirl. ‘Let me show you what I’ve got for you.’ She had pretty red hair. Didi wondered if it was her natural color. Didi was proud of the fact that she had never colored or highlighted her own brown hair. She also didn’t wear much makeup, though she bought plenty. Didi thought of herself as a person comfortable in her own skin. The salesgirl must have seen Didi looking at her hair, because she smiled and, touching it, said, ‘Best color money can buy. Do you like it?’
Smiling and secretly pleased, Didi said, ‘Love it. It looks very natural.’
‘I like yours,’ the salesgirl said. ‘Tell me, is it difficult keeping it that long in this heat and with being pregnant and all?’
Touching her hair, Didi replied, ‘It’s not too bad. It’s naturally straight, so I don’t do much to it. But I can never cut it. My husband loves it long.’
The girl found Didi a burgundy silk robe with a matching negligee, panties, and bra. The ensemble looked great on Didi, although the negligee was too small. It was the largest size in stock, and Didi had to hope that the Belly would not stay enormous forever.
‘I’ll take it,’ she said, walking out of the fitting room. From inside the store, she peered into the mall. Her heart beat faster when she thought she saw the back of the man. The person sitting on the bench was obscured by tall, leafy corn plants; it was hard to tell if it was he. She turned to the cash register.
‘I’m sorry. What did you ask?’ Didi said absentmindedly.
‘Do you know what you’re having?’
Didi smiled. ‘We’re hoping for a boy,’ she confessed. ‘But we don’t know.’
‘Hey, you got a fifty-fifty chance, right?’
‘Not according to my husband,’ said Didi easily. ‘He’s been wearing his red socks for weeks. He thinks that improves our chances to seventy-five-twenty-five.’
‘Red socks?’ The salesgirl looked at her as if Didi were crazy.
‘Hey, I’m not the crazy one,’ said Didi. ‘The same ones he wears when the Cowboys play. They won the Super Bowl once when he was wearing red socks and now he wears them every Sunday. I don’t think he’s ever let me wash them since then.’
‘Oh, dear,’ said the salesgirl, handing her a receipt to sign. ‘I hope you don’t sit next to your husband on Sundays.’
‘I’m a football widow,’ said Didi, but it wasn’t true. It just sounded funny, though she wished she hadn’t said it. She loved football. She and Rich watched the games together when they could. It was true about the red socks. Rich believed in the socks even when the Cowboys lost. ‘Think how much they’d lose by if I wasn’t wearing them,’ he’d say when Didi called the socks’ dubious charm into question. Didi had no response to Rich’s perverse logic.
‘Good luck,’ said the salesgirl, tossing her red hair. ‘I hope you have your boy, and I hope your labor will be easy.’
‘Thanks.’ Didi smiled. ‘Have a nice day.’
‘Hey, and stay inside,’ the girl called after her. ‘It’s brutal out there.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Didi said.
She walked out of the store and looked at her watch. Five to one. It was time to meet Rich. With luck she’d be only ten minutes late, but probably more like fifteen. She looked up and down the mall. Just a few shoppers. God forgive me, is everyone this paranoid at near term? Didi thought. Wait till I tell Richie.
Laden with bags, she walked back to Dillard’s, made a left at the Freshens stand and then a right, and walked out the mall doors. Outside was unbearable. The sun whipped her with heat. After taking a dozen steps, Didi was light-headed. She hoped she could make it to the car and not faint.
Putting her bags down on the concrete, she looked around, wondering where her Town & Country was parked. Slowly she took the pretzel bag out of one of the larger shopping bags, reached into it, and broke off a piece of a pretzel. She chewed and swallowed it. Looking at her watch, she saw it was already ten past one and tried to hurry. She picked up three bags with one hand, three bags with the other, and with her purse on her shoulder and the pretzel bag between her fingers headed up one aisle, swaying from side to side. Did she have to get those wooden blocks at FAO Schwarz? She struggled with the bags, setting them down again and wiping her forehead, wishing her hair were up in a bun.
Didi walked a few more feet but couldn’t see the minivan anywhere. She put her bags down, sighed as loudly as possible to make herself feel better, and rummaged through her purse. She found her key chain and hit the alarm button to get her car to make its noise, but the alarm did not go off. Instead she heard the dull click of a door lock opening, and looked to her right to see her white van. She had pressed the wrong button. Thank God.
Relieved, Didi dropped the keys back in her purse and bent down to pick up her bags.
A voice behind her said, ‘You know, you really shouldn’t be carrying those heavy bags. It’s bad for the baby.’
12.58 PM (#ulink_93107d2a-0e06-5b9e-a553-4393f84f6fd0)
Richard Wood parked his Pontiac Bonneville in the Laredo Grill lot and looked for Didi’s minivan. It wasn’t there yet. He glanced at his watch and saw it was a little before one and he was early. That was okay. He sat in the car and listened to a Bad Company CD. Didi said Rich was forever stuck in the seventies, but he took that as a compliment.
The clock in the car read 1.17 when he decided to look for her inside the restaurant. Maybe she’d parked elsewhere. He hurried. He should have remembered that Didi sometimes parked in the adjacent Olive Garden lot to be a bit closer to the exit ramp for the highway home.
1.20 PM (#ulink_a5733c47-1a96-5f55-8469-8e0c476ed6f3)
Didi wanted to speak but found she was made speechless by her heart ramming itself against her chest. She didn’t need to turn around. She recognized his voice. It was the man in the jacket. She felt slightly nauseated.
‘Did you hear me, ma’am?’ the voice said. ‘You shouldn’t be carrying those heavy bags. It’s not good for the baby.’
Didi turned around.
The man was standing in front of her, hands in his jacket pockets. The heat index was up to 120 and he was wearing a jacket over his white shirt. The incongruity of the jacket hadn’t registered in the cool mall, but now it seemed distinctly out of place.
She stared directly at him without averting her gaze. His upturned nose made him look petulant, as if he’d been waiting for a bus too long. His mouth was upturned too, in a semblance of a smile. It looked as if he was grimacing, stretching his thin lips upward, toward eyes that weren’t smiling. They were blue and they were cold, and she saw that they lacked something essential. The expression in the eyes, like the jacket, did not belong in a mall parking lot on a hot summer day.
Didi held on to her bags as she and the man stared at each other. She tried to focus, but all she saw was dark spots instead of his face. Wait, wait, she said to herself, narrowing her mental vision. Think! It’s not so bad. Maybe he is really concerned about the bags. Remember? He said the same thing to me in the mall.
Though now there was an edge to his tone, as if he were judging her. Didi knew the tone of judgment well enough. When her mother-in-law, bless her, would visit, she’d look at Didi and say, ‘You’re not eating enough, Didi.’ It was the same tone, but Barbara was her husband’s mother, and this man was a complete stranger who had followed her out of the mall.
Wait a second. Who said he’d followed her? Maybe he hadn’t followed her. Maybe his own car was parked here and he was on his way home.
Didi had been silent too long. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry and her heart was beating too fast.
‘You don’t need to help me. My car is right…’ She stopped, already regretting what she had been about to say. Take it back, fool, take it back. Why would she want him to know they were in front of her car?
The man said, ‘What I’d like to do is help you to my car.’
Didi lost her breath and opened her mouth.
‘I’d rather not do that,’ she said, her voice breaking. ‘I’m meeting my husband for lunch.’ Her knees began to shake. To steady herself, she leaned against the minivan.
The man stretched his lips sideways, exposing his teeth. ‘I think he’ll be eating alone today,’ he said.
Didi hurriedly scanned the parking lot for a mother with a baby, an elderly couple, a man buying a present for his wife. Why was it that when she needed to adjust her underwear or scratch her inner thigh, the parking lot was teeming with people, but now when she needed someone more than ever, there was no one? Why was that?
Dumb luck.
No, it was karma, she thought, harking back to the fight she’d had with Richie yesterday. That’s why.
Is this my karma? she thought. This young man in front of me, menacing me with his vagueness and his eyes?
She started to speak, but he interrupted her.
‘Shh,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry. I just want us to go for a little ride.’
Shaking her head, Didi said, ‘I can’t.’
‘Yes, you can,’ he said. ‘Please.’ And then added, ‘I have to insist.’
He stood very close to her between the cars. He was invading her personal space, and Didi’s knees would not stop shaking. She glanced this way and that. Please, someone just come walking, get out of a car, something, somebody see us. Please.
1.25 PM (#ulink_673b4140-8a8b-596f-8071-61bf9ee04726)
Didi wasn’t in the restaurant.
Rich thought there was nothing more pathetic than a man waiting for his late wife. Embarrassed, he straightened his tie and smiled politely at the hostess.
Finally he called the office for his messages and listened to one from Didi at 12.30 PM, asking him if he could meet her a little earlier. There was something in her voice that he didn’t like and didn’t understand. There was an edge to it, and the pitch was higher than normal.
It was also an unusual call. Rich and Didi had been together for ten years. In that decade, Rich Wood had never known Didi to call from the mall and ask to meet him early.
Late, yes.
Honey, I’ll be a few minutes late.
Honey, I’m stuck in line.
Honey, there is just one more stop I have to make.
Yes, yes, yes.
But honey, can you meet me early?
If she was at the Laredo Grill, then he could tease her about it.
But she wasn’t there.
Rich knew there were many diversions between the mall and the restaurant. She could have stopped at the bookstore or the music store. Or the Container Store.
He waited awhile longer before calling his office again. There was nothing new from her after 12.30 PM. If she had stopped off somewhere, she would have called. Didi usually was considerate about being habitually late.
At one-thirty, he glanced at his watch as a little worm of worry ate away at the empty stomach where hunger had been.
Thirty minutes was too long to be stuck in any line.
He dialed the number to her cellular phone. It rang the requisite seven times before an annoying male voice answered and told Rich that the cellular customer he had called was unavailable.
Rich wondered if Didi was getting back at him for the fight they’d had yesterday, to prove to him that all it would take was for her to be a little late and he would be concerned. Maybe this is payback time, Rich thought irritably, looking at his watch every thirty seconds or so.
Rich felt his throat constrict. It wasn’t fair of her to be so late. She was exceedingly pregnant. Didi must know that Rich would immediately think she had gone into labor. Or had an accident.
He called his answering service for the third time and listened to her twelve-thirty message. ‘It’s just me,’ Didi said. ‘Calling from the mall, hoping I could meet you a little earlier.’ Pause. ‘It’s okay. I’ll see you at one, I guess. Bye.’
He listened to it again, trying to read into the pause.
What was that in her voice?
1.30 PM (#ulink_e29322dc-31f0-5deb-87ae-17ade7481c51)
Sweat ran down Didi’s cheeks. She hoped it was sweat and not tears. She didn’t want to cry in front of this man. ‘Listen,’ she whispered. ‘Please.’
He reached out and wiped her face. He wiped the tears off her face. ‘Just come for a ride with me,’ he said.
Where were her keys? Where were they? Where had she dropped them, ah, goddammit, in her purse! How would that work, anyway? Excuse me while I fish for my keys, let me rummage through my bag while you wait, just hang on a sec.
And what would she do with them? Hitting the panic button was a joke. It was the joke of parking lots, of streets, of urban living. Nothing was ignored with quite the same intensity as a piercing car alarm. What do we all think? We think, when is someone going to find his keys and turn that stupid thing off?
Still, she wished she could have her keys handy. Hit the alarm, startle him, get in her car, lock the doors, drive away.
She leaned against the car, not moving, panting, trying to steady her knees.
He moved closer to her and pushed her slightly with his body. ‘Come on. It’ll be all right. I’m parked just over there.’
Didi knew that in her condition she couldn’t walk anywhere, she’d just fall down.
‘Okay,’ she said, sniffling. ‘Can you carry my bags?’ She thrust all the bags at him, except for her purse, and looked behind him, searching for other people in the parking lot. Didi cursed the day minivans became so popular. He and she were sandwiched in the three-foot space between her minivan and a small truck. Behind her was another minivan, and she could not see out. Worse, no one could see in. ‘Could you carry my bags?’ Didi repeated, trying to sound calm. She just wanted a second to reach into her purse.
He chuckled. ‘No, I don’t think that would be a good idea. But it’s nice of you to ask me.’
Moving off the car to stand on her own, Didi tried again. ‘You did say I shouldn’t be carrying them. Could you help me out? They’re really heavy.’
He continued to smile peaceably. ‘Well, whose fault is that, now, ma’am? Is that my fault? Did I spend a half hour at Dillard’s buying makeup? Did I go to FAO Schwarz and come back out with another bag? Did I go to Coach? To Warner Bros? To Victoria’s Secret? No, I didn’t. I didn’t buy anything. I’m not carrying anything. But you didn’t seem to care then about carrying all these bags and hurting your baby. It’s your fault they’re heavy. Now come on. We’re wasting time.’
My God, thought Didi. It was clear he had followed her from her very first stop at NorthPark. For all she knew, he had seen her at the doctor’s.
Why would he follow her? Why would he single her out?
She didn’t want to turn her back to him.
Didi had thought that feeling fear was watching a scary Halloween movie with Rich, and when the teenagers were alone in the room and any second the vampires would appear, Didi would get a pit in her stomach, turn to Rich, and say, ‘I’m not watching this.’
And that’s what Didi wanted to do now. Turn away and say, ‘I’m not watching this.’
‘How’s your wife going to feel about you taking other women for rides in your car?’ Didi said.
She was instantly sorry. His expression lost some of its politeness. She saw him clench and unclench his fist, and his face struggled for control. He quickly regained it, and took her arm. He wasn’t hurting her arm, but he wasn’t letting go of her. Despite her brave tone, Didi thought any minute she was going to get hysterical.
He said coolly, ‘Why don’t we make our first little rule, okay? You leave my wife out of this.’
‘I’m sorry, all right?’ Didi said, in a pathetic low voice. ‘Listen – I’m going to have a baby.’
He let go her arm and said, ‘Don’t worry. I just want to take you for a ride, like I said.’
Didi could do nothing to stop herself from sinking to the ground. She was shaking her head and saying, ‘I’m not watching, I’m not watching.’
‘What are you doing?’ he said, pulling her by her arm. Didi dropped to the ground between the cars.
‘What are you doing?’ He yanked her again, careful not to raise his voice. Clearing his throat, he said huskily, ‘Could you get up, please, ma’am?’
‘I can’t.’ She panted. ‘I can’t stand. Just leave me alone. I won’t tell anyone. Just leave me alone. My belly hurts. My husband is waiting for me. Just leave me alone.’
‘Get up, I said.’
If Didi could have gotten up, she would have. But she couldn’t move. She was still clutching the shopping bags. Letting go, she fumbled to get to her purse. Keys, keys, keys.
‘I said, get up!’ he said, bending down over her.
Didi opened her mouth to scream but didn’t have the breath. It was as if she had just run a mile at full speed and was gasping for air. She bit her lip shut trying to breathe through her nose.
‘Get up!’
She shook her head slowly.
No one could see them. Didi was still on the ground. Feeling herself about to cry, she covered her face with the white pretzel bag. She didn’t want him to see her weakness. Then she tasted something salty in her mouth. There was blood from her bitten lip.
Knocking the pretzel bag out of her hands, the man grabbed her under her arms and lifted her to her feet. Didi had a second to feel his strength. This late in her pregnancy, even her husband had trouble helping her off the couch or up from the bed. If she was on the floor, forget it. Rich would need a car jack.
Didi’s legs weren’t making it easy for him, yet he yanked her up as if she were a stubborn weed. As soon as she got to her feet, she started to sink down again.
‘Let’s go,’ he snapped, shoving her lightly with his body. ‘Come on now. You may be pregnant, but you’re not crippled. Not five minutes ago you were breezing through the mall, not a care in the world, bags and all. You can go ten feet now, can’t you?’ Staring at her, he said, ‘What did you do to yourself? Look.’ He wiped her mouth with his hand and showed her the blood. ‘Say something.’
Didi tried to talk, but the words wouldn’t come. Fear for her life, fear for her baby, fear for her family – all the fear in the world was in her mouth, and her mouth was bloody and mute. She felt as if her throat were filling with cement. Nothing was moving except her tongue, which labored to help her breathe. She felt nearly paralyzed when she thought of leaving what she perceived as the safety of her own car. She was at her unlocked door. If only she’d hit the panic button instead of the unlock. Maybe it would have scared him off. Maybe it would have. Is that what it all came down to? Hitting the wrong damn button on her key ring?
He shoved her again. Didi moved. She took a few tentative steps and walked out into the main row. A car drove by.
Suddenly hope sprang up inside her. Between cars she had no chance, but here in the open, maybe someone would see her. Maybe someone would see her running –
Running? Who was she kidding? Hadn’t she just sunk to the ground faster than an anchor into water? She couldn’t run, hadn’t run in months. With the baby’s head between her legs, pressing down on the blood vessels in her pelvis, she had to take stairs one at a time. She couldn’t even pretend-run after her girls.
My girls. Didi gasped and dropped the bags.
‘Could you pick those up, please, ma’am?’ he asked.
‘I can’t,’ Didi panted. ‘They’re too heavy for me.’ She wanted to leave a trace of herself behind.
‘Pick them up, please,’ he said.
Shaking her head, Didi said, ‘I can’t. Let’s just leave them.’
Bending his head to look at her sideways, he said, ‘Now, you know that we can’t leave your bags in the middle of the parking lot.’
‘Forget it,’ she said, pretending not to understand him. She was trying to fight the fear that was pulling her down to the ground again. What could he do in the middle of a sunny parking lot, a hundred feet away from Central Expressway, in broad daylight?
She didn’t think he’d do much, and that gave her a little bit of courage. She thought, he seems pretty calm. He is being reasonable, therefore he can’t be crazy.
Bravely, Didi repeated, ‘Forget it. I don’t want them. Really. If you can’t carry them, just leave them.’
‘Oh, shit,’ he mumbled under his breath. He grabbed all the bags off the ground with his left hand, keeping his right hand on her. ‘I’ll take your bags. Happy now? Come on, let’s try to walk a little faster.’
The man hurried, but she dragged her feet. ‘It’s only a little further. Then you can sit down,’ he said kindly.
But Didi wouldn’t hurry. She wanted to walk, to crawl, slower and slower, until she stopped and sat down, and had a drink and maybe some food, and stopped hyperventilating, and had her baby and woke up from a bad dream.
She promised herself she would never go to NorthPark again. Or any mall again without her husband, without a friend, or without a gun. A whole lot of good a gun would have done her here. Excuse me for a second while I ransack through my handbag so I can shoot you.
How long had it been? How was it possible that in the minutes since he had approached her, Didi had not seen anyone in the parking lot? Where was everybody?
She nearly yelped with joy and hope when she saw two women in the next row getting out of a car.
Didi didn’t know if any sound would come out when she opened her mouth, but the terror that had made her weaker a minute ago when she saw no way out made her stronger now when she saw a chance for escape.
‘Help! Help me!’ she screamed, moving away from the man. He was fast. He dug his fingers into her arm.
Didi flung her free arm and hit him across the face. ‘Help!’ she screamed. ‘He’s –’
The women turned and looked at them.
And then he let go of her arm for a split second, just long enough to grab her around the neck, pull her to him, and kiss her hard on the mouth.
He pressed his lips to hers, blowing air into her throat and sticking his tongue into her mouth. All the while he never stopped walking. She tried to pull away from his face, but he was too strong. He held her painfully tight around the neck. If he were her lover, she could have said, stop, you’re hurting me.
But he wasn’t her lover.
She saw the women smile to each other, nod, and keep on walking.
He removed himself from her mouth, and when he did, she screamed once more. He pulled her to him again and pressed his lips on hers, but this time he bit her lip and clamped it between his teeth. ‘Stop it,’ he said to her through his teeth. ‘Keep walking.’
Whimpering into his mouth, she ran in little steps alongside him.
Then he pulled away from her, and Didi whirled around to look for the two women. It was no use, because they were already inside the mall. The man stopped walking when they reached a beat-up beige station wagon. Clasping his right hand over her mouth, he dropped her bags and fumbled for the keys in his pocket. He opened the passenger door and sat her down in his car.
Didi screamed, for she had nothing to lose. Whatever his intentions were, Didi was certain they did not involve his giving her a lift to the Laredo Grill. Her day went gray, and she began to scream again, but no one could hear her.
He got in and started the car. ‘You know,’ he said, ‘you should really stop that.’
They were racing through the NorthPark parking lot. The old car stank. Didi wondered for a moment if the stench came from her. Had she lost control of her bowels?
But no. It was an old, bad odor. The car smelled of sour, rotted food. She looked over at him.
He held the wheel tightly with both hands.
She wanted to say something to him. But what? What? To save herself, she would have said anything.
‘What’s your name?’ she asked in her friendliest voice. Is that the best I can come up with? she thought. What’s your name? What am I, a teenager at the school lockers?
He didn’t answer her.
Please show me the way, dear God, please show me the way out, for my kids, please hear my prayer.
I guess it’s really happening, she thought, starting to rock back and forth, it’s happening. This man, he – I – I’ve been abducted. I’ve been snatched, stolen. He acts polite and tries to smile, but he’s kidnapped me. How’s Rich ever going to find me? And what could he want? Money? Of course, that must be it. He wants money. That’s what all kidnappers want. He doesn’t care about me. He saw me shopping at NorthPark and probably thought I was loaded.
What would it do to tell him the truth? she thought. And what happens to me when he finds out the truth?
Clasping her hands together, Didi tried to think of something comforting, but all that flashed through her was, Am I going to die? Right here, in this man’s car, this stinking car, die with a stranger? Is this how my life is going to end –
My baby.
Why was she thinking about death, about stinky cars? She couldn’t die, because if she did, her baby would too, and her baby could not die.
That was impossible.
The baby is counting on me not to let him die. That’s my job as his mother – to keep him and save him from harm. What kind of mother would I be if I died on him? A bad kind, that’s what kind. Gently, she stroked her belly.
Didi shuddered when she remembered the fight she had had with Richie yesterday. Poor Rich – he’ll be thinking I didn’t show up because I’m still mad at him. That stupid fight. It was just about this very thing – about harm coming to me and the baby. Rich got so mad he yelled at me that nothing was going to happen to the baby. He was angry at me for bringing bad thoughts into our house.
Didi herself had felt silly for fearing the worst.
Yesterday the worst had been some nebulous grief. She feared the baby might have two hearts, two brains, or not enough heart, not enough brain.
Today – well, she couldn’t confront it.
Didi’s hands were unsteady. Rubbing her belly gently, she looked out the side window.
She thought, is God punishing me? I haven’t been penitent. I don’t say my prayers and there are some Sundays I don’t go to church and there are some I go and don’t want to. Who said Christianity was easy? It’s not like drinking water, accepting God into your heart. I’ve been remiss. And so have my children, and so has my husband. We watch TV, we make love, we don’t pray. We fight, we curse. I’ve been feeling cocky and now God is about to show me who’s boss.
They went through a stop sign. Keep that up, Didi thought, and a nice police officer will soon be stopping you himself. At the next stop sign the man slowed down and pretended to stop. Didi looked at the door handle. The car must have slowed to twenty, maybe ten miles an hour. All she had to do was open the door and fall out. She lifted her trembling hand off her lap and reached for the handle.
And stopped.
The baby. When Didi fell out, would she fall on her belly? Would the shock of hitting the ground burst her water, would it snap the umbilical cord? Would it break her baby’s neck or crush its soft head?
She glanced over at the man. He looked tranquil. Would she be able to crawl away fast enough from him? Or would he stop, slam the car into reverse, and roll over her, killing her and the baby? And then calmly drive away never to be found, never to be seen again.
Didi knew one thing with absolute certainty: if she died, her baby had no chance. She closed her eyes briefly. Baby Evelyn or baby Adam, anything your mom can do, she will do, God help her.
1.45 PM (#ulink_b07c91a6-774c-5aa8-b062-20b477da986b)
Rich called their hospital’s labor and delivery ward to see if a Didi Wood had been admitted and was told no.
Finally he left the Laredo Grill. What mall had she been in? Was it Collin Creek right across the road, or the Galleria, or Valley View? NorthPark? She could have been calling from anywhere. She had had a doctor’s appointment at eleven, so perhaps she was at Collin Creek, which was the closest to the doctor and to the Laredo Grill. Rich wished he’d gone with her to the doctor’s as he usually did.
He called the doctor’s office. The receptionist told him Didi had left at eleven-thirty after her routine weekly checkup. Then the doctor came on the phone and told Rich that Didi had dilated another centimeter to about two, normal for this stage in the pregnancy. Rich asked if Didi had mentioned where she might be heading. The doctor replied that Didi had said she might do a little shopping, but hadn’t said where. Rich hung up.
Instead of going back to work, he drove to the Collin Creek Mall. His Didi was nothing if not a creature of habit, and whenever they went to the mall – any mall – Didi always parked near Dillard’s. He drove up and down the rows of cars, looking for their new white Town & Country – the Cadillac of all minivans, as the pamphlets had said.
He thought he’d seen the van several times, but he was wrong.
Remembering he had a meeting with marketing at three, Rich called his office manager and said he was tied up and couldn’t make it in. She sounded nervous on the phone, and said, ‘But Rich, your meeting.’ And he said to her, ‘But Donna, my wife.’ And hung up without an explanation.
Then he called home. Maybe she wasn’t feeling well and had gone home to lie down. Totally unlike Didi, but maybe.
No one answered. The babysitter must be picking Amanda up from school. Rich left a message for Didi to call him as soon as possible at the office. What could he do? He had to believe that Didi was still upset about the fight last night. It was the only explanation.
But he didn’t believe that. It wasn’t like Didi to pay him back for anything. Even when they fought, she still made him dinner, still went to sleep with him, and she never stood him up if they made plans to meet. Never.
Unprecedented events worried Rich. He remembered his dad, back in Chicago, every day for twenty-five years coming home from work on the 5.54 PM train. The train was sometimes late, but Richard Wood Sr never missed that train – well, almost never. The day he missed the 5.54 was the day he died.
1.45 PM (#ulink_8a9132e2-3e68-529e-a6e3-2f58941121c0)
Didi racked her brain to find something to say to stop the man, stop him before he drove his car out of the parking lot. Hope was a caged bird, and it was caged outside the NorthPark Mall. Once they were out of the lot and on Dallas streets or on the open road, the little bird called hope would flee this man’s car. Didi had to try something now, while there was still a chance. Her mouth was dry and her heart was beating fast as she took a deep breath.
‘Listen,’ Didi said. ‘We’re not rich people, but –’ She wanted to cry but wouldn’t let herself. ‘Call my husband. I’m sure he’ll give you money –’
His soft laugh interrupted her.
So he was listening. Her words were getting through. Heartened, Didi went on.
‘I just want to say, I mean, if you –’ She choked up. ‘If you let me out now, I’ll walk back to my car and I’ll never mention this to anybody. We’ll never see each other again, but, please, couldn’t you just…just let me go?’ Didi’s legs felt clammy. Trying to ease the tension, she rubbed the Belly.
‘Tell me, won’t you be sad for us to part and never see each other again?’ he asked.
What is he talking about? thought Didi. It doesn’t make sense. Maybe he’s made a mistake. Maybe he’s mistaken me for someone else. He acts as if he knows me. A crazy mistake but a mistake. He must think I’m someone who lives in Starwood or in Highland Park. I’m not, I’m not, she wanted to say.
‘I’m sorry, do you know who I am?’
‘Yes,’ the man said. ‘Fate has brought you to me.’
Didi felt sick.
Shaking her head, Didi said tearfully, ‘What does fate have to do with it?’
‘Why, everything,’ he said.
‘But my husband is waiting for me,’ Didi said. ‘If I don’t come soon, he’s going to get very worried. I know he’ll call the police –’
‘We’ll be far away then, ma’am,’ he said.
Didi’s heart expanded. It felt as if it were going to explode out of her chest. She put her hand over her mouth to stop herself from making a wailing sound.
So he seemed to have plans for them. He was moving along, traveling somewhere, and she was hurtling with him. By the time Rich was aware she was missing, they’d be far away. Sweet Jesus, what did that mean?
‘He’ll get worried right away. I’m never late,’ Didi said. ‘And if I am, I always call.’
‘You’re not near a phone,’ he said.
Didi almost mentioned her cell phone, but stopped herself. So the man hadn’t seen her call Rich at the Warner Bros store. She didn’t want to alert him. Rich would definitely call her. Maybe there was a way to trace the cell phone to where she was. Maybe the phone had some kind of a Didi-homing device. The police could call the number and locate Didi. She kept quiet for a moment while sadness swept through her unsettled stomach.
‘I just want to say,’ she tried again, ‘if it’s money you want, I’m sure we can come up with something –’
He laughed softly again.
‘Or,’ Didi tried, encouraged by his smiling. ‘You could let me out.’ She looked at him with hope. ‘There’s no harm done –’
‘There is already.’
‘No, not really,’ she said quickly, wanting to wipe her mouth. ‘I think you’ve made a mistake. You must think I’m rich, but I’m not really –’
‘I don’t think that, ma’am,’ he said.
She pressed on, ‘But if you continue, then you know, this will be a…a…’ She couldn’t get the awful word out.
‘Kidnapping?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘All you have to do is let me out right here. Please,’ she added. ‘Stop and think, think. Don’t you know that kidnapping is a capital crime? In Texas, I think you get life for it.’
‘They’d have to catch me first,’ the man said.
‘But they always catch the –’ Didi wanted to say the bad guy.
‘Not always,’ he said. ‘Let them try to find us.’
Didi stared at him, wanting to argue. Not catch the bad guy? That wasn’t possible. They always caught the bad guy.
Didn’t they?
‘What you’re doing,’ she said, ‘It’s –’
‘Yes, I know,’ he interrupted, smiling coolly. ‘I’d better take care not to get caught then, hadn’t I?’
Didi stopped looking at his upturned nose and faced the road. Her mind was frenzied. She tried to make her body outwardly still, but her legs from the knees down were uncontrollable.
Didi saw he was headed toward US 75.
As if reading her mind, the man said, ‘Hang on, baby. There is no looking back. Nice try, though. But we’re in it for the long haul. For the whole haul,’ he said in his nasal drawl.
Didi put her arms around herself and stared ahead. Fear was invading her lungs from the malodorous car every time she inhaled. They made a right onto the expressway service road, and in a few seconds were on Central Expressway at seventy miles an hour, heading in the direction of downtown Dallas.
‘Please,’ she whispered.
‘I’m not even going to speed,’ the man said. ‘I’m going to take it nice and easy.’
He was a man of his word, though Didi didn’t think he’d meant to go quite this slowly. They were stuck in traffic. What had been a three-lane highway was now a single lane. The diamond orange signs warned of no quick resolutions to the traffic jam.
SLOW MEN WORKING
Didi’s cool driver turned red in the face. His hands became jittery. He was past one exit, some indeterminate distance away from the next, and trapped with cars all around him. Pulling the cars in the left lane to the right, the orange cones were lined up alongside his station wagon. Up ahead, the yellow arrow blinked insistently. Move over there, the arrow seemed to say. Now.
The man turned on the radio and began humming to country music. Didi was about to try to engage him in some superficial conversation when suddenly her senses returned to life.
She thought there might be a way out of his car.
They were in the right lane. Next to her side of the car a low concrete divider ran as far as her eyes could take her. The car was stopped. Zero miles per hour. He was drumming his fingers on the wheel and singing softly along to the radio.
At zero miles an hour Didi could easily open the door and get out. However, the station wagon seemed so perilously close to the divider that Didi feared the door might not open. She was alive right now. What if she pulled a stunt like that and he killed her?
She placed her hands on her belly and then on her heart. It was beating too fast. He won’t kill me, Didi thought. I have to believe that. He seems…almost decent.
2.20 PM (#ulink_9a0b5a6e-500f-57c7-b1ee-aa3170a04aa0)
Rich called the office again and told Donna that he was expecting an urgent call from his wife. ‘Has she called?’ he asked. Donna said no and asked if everything was all right. Rich didn’t know how to answer that and didn’t.
Then he called home again. Ingrid had come home with Amanda. No, Ingrid said, she hadn’t heard from Didi. Yes, both kids were home and everything was fine.
‘Daddy, Daddy.’ His five-year-old was on the phone. ‘Are you coming home early for dinner?’
‘I don’t know yet, honey. Maybe.’
‘Where’s Mommy?’ Amanda asked.
‘I’m meeting Mommy for lunch. She’ll see you soon, okay? How was school?’
‘Good,’ said Amanda. ‘Mom has to see how much homework I have. I have to cut and paste a whole dinosaur.’
‘Mommy will be home soon, okay?’
‘Okay. Love you.’ Her conversation finished, Amanda hung up.
Rich smiled, returning the receiver to the headset.
Yet the empty ache inside Rich would not subside. Where was his wife? Where was his ready-to-give-birth wife? He felt ridiculous, standing at a Mobil station on 15th Street in the broiling heat. He was going through the motions of his day without having the motion of a wife.
Realizing he was dying of thirst, he went into the Mobil minimart and bought himself a six-pack of Coke and some bottled water. The drink made him feel marginally better for a few seconds.
Then Rich drove to the Valley View Mall.
Up and down, up and down, up and down the rows of cars. If she was at this mall, he’d find her. And when he found her, lost at the hair salon and having forgotten to call him, he’d yell at her till her hair turned blue.
2.30 PM (#ulink_4ed48bb2-fabd-5357-aefc-2c572fbfcb7c)
Didi and the man sat in the car for ten minutes, moving a few feet a minute. The man seemed increasingly anxious. He kept turning on his right blinker and then turning it off again. Didi suspected he would get off the highway as soon as he could. She thought she heard her phone ringing, but the radio played too loudly to be sure. The phone was buried deep inside her bag. She listened carefully again but heard only the radio. Must have been my imagination, Didi thought.
Now the car wasn’t moving.
It was time.
She grabbed the handle and swung open the door.
Didi had been right. The door was too close to the divider. It opened no more than a foot. The man immediately swerved to the right, scraping the divider and pushing the door shut.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ he yelled, pulling her by the neck away from the door. Didi cried out as he yanked her down on the seat, pressing his hand on her head to keep her down. She struggled to get up and bit his hand. She heard him muttering as he fiercely pressed her into the seat.
The car soon started moving, but in stops and spurts. It turned one way, then another. Didi tried to keep track of the direction, to no avail. She tried to sit up half a dozen times before the man told her to give up.
‘Stay down, please,’ he told her. ‘You’ve caused enough trouble already. Stay down.’
Did I cause trouble? Didi thought, uncomfortably scrunched up below window level on the bench seat. Have the police come? Have we been stopped? Am I with my husband? No, I don’t think I caused much trouble at all.
Her eyes, level with the radio controls, darted past the glove compartment to the floor. She thought she heard the phone ring faintly again, but she couldn’t hear above the country music.
Were they off Central Expressway? Didi thought so; she could see the tops of trees and houses. He must have got off and was driving through the side streets. Where was he taking her?
‘Can I get up?’ she asked.
He said nothing, but lifted his hand from her head, and she took that to mean yes. She got up.
‘So what were you doing back there?’ he asked. ‘What were you thinking?’
When Didi didn’t reply, he said, ‘Look, I don’t blame you. I’m not even mad.’ He smiled as if to prove that. ‘See? But you have to understand, it’s useless.’
She rubbed her head where his hand had been.
‘Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear. You have to behave. We’re going for a little ride, that’s all, but you’re carrying a baby and you have to be careful. Do you understand?’
‘Please let me out,’ Didi said dully. ‘I have a husband…children.’
From the corner of her eye she saw a slight smile. He wasn’t touched. He was just bemused.
Turning down the music, he said, ‘Look, I’d prefer not to argue with you. Don’t get out of my car anymore. I want us to be friendly, but you have to show me I can trust you.’
‘Friendly?’ she repeated, thinking she’d misheard. ‘Yes, of course. Friendly. Sure.’
‘Don’t you think falling out of my car would have hurt the baby?’ he asked.
‘I wasn’t going to fall out of the car,’ said Didi. ‘I won’t do it again, I promise.’
‘Good. Then we won’t have any trouble,’ the man said. ‘Now be a good girl and let me drive,’ he said. ‘We’ve lost over an hour because of the work on Seventy-five.’
‘Where are we headed?’ Didi asked carefully.
‘Mazatlán,’ he said.
Didi said nothing. She didn’t want to know.
‘Mexico,’ the man said.
He told me anyway, Didi thought, shuddering.
Didi again thought she could hear the phone ringing.
Soon she recognized the stark warehouse clubs and tattoo joints that defined Deep Ellum – the funky, loud, slightly dangerous boozing and dining section of downtown Dallas. There were a couple of interstates they could take from there. Interstate 30 to Houston, or Interstate 20 to Shreveport, or Interstate 35 to Waco, Austin, San Antonio, and eventually Mexico.
No one would ever find them – find her – in Mexico. Not Rich, not the police, no one. Mexico was where people went to disappear.
The prospect of disappearing – disappearing with him – dried up Didi’s throat. She licked her lips and realized she had no spit in her mouth. For the first time since the mall she acknowledged to herself that she was thirsty.
Didi was about to ask him if the air-conditioning was on, and then she looked over at the dashboard. There was no air-conditioning. Oh, great, she thought, and for the next silent fifteen minutes, she obsessed about the fact that there was no AC in her kidnapper’s station wagon.
No air-conditioning was an immediate problem. Didi was hot. Her own minivan had a gauge that told her, among other things, the outside temperature. However, his old car was not AC equipped. The dash clock was broken. The vent inside the car was blowing hot air, and the windows were closed.
Didi watched him get on Interstate 35E going south to Waco.
‘We’re going to Waco?’ Didi asked.
‘No,’ he said, his tone losing some of its earlier courtesy. ‘I told you where we’re going. Now don’t ask me again.’
Didi sighed tensely, looking away from him. The road was hypnotic. It usually was so easy when Rich was driving to let her mind go blank and disappear into the road. However, not today. Not when she was this hot, this short of breath, this scared.
Didi reached over to roll down the window, and the man immediately lost his temper, shouting, ‘What are you doing?’
She gasped, stunned by his outburst, and said, ‘I’m hot. I was going to roll the window down.’
‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘No windows. Don’t want you screaming again, do I?’
‘Who’s going to hear me here on the highway?’
‘I said no.’
‘I won’t scream,’ she said. ‘I’m just real hot. I need air.’
‘Yeah, well, you should have thought of that in the mall. Didn’t need air then, did you?’ he said coldly.
What was he talking about? And what’s happening to him? Why did he sound so angry?
‘I’m real hot,’ Didi repeated.
He swirled one of the central vents on her. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘Here’s some air.’
Didi sat back against the brown vinyl seat and closed her eyes. She wiped her sweating head, opened her eyes, and said, ‘Couldn’t we stop for a drink? I’m thirsty.’ She was hoping to bring some of his earlier politeness back.
‘No, we can’t stop for a drink,’ he snapped. ‘What do you think this is? A trip to Disney World? Sit and be quiet. Please,’ he added, composing himself.
Didi had no choice about sitting, but she did shut up. He’s moody, she thought. Is this ma’am and please thing just a facade? God help me if it is.
After a few moments, he said, ‘Look, I’m sorry, but we have to make tracks. I have to concentrate, okay? Don’t want to go too fast, don’t want to go too slow. We’ll stop soon.’
Oddly comforted by his courteous demeanor, Didi nodded and then said, ‘Don’t you want to call my husband?’
‘No!’ His nasal voice was shrill. ‘Why would I want to call him?’
Beads of sweat ran down her cheeks. ‘To ask him for money?’
Shaking his head, he leaned toward her and touched her gently on the arm. ‘You’re so naive. That’s what I like about you.’
Didi wiped her face and then licked her fingers. Ten minutes later, the salt in the sweat made her crazy for a drink, but she didn’t talk.
What was her Rich doing? He must have realized by now she wasn’t coming to the Laredo Grill. Where was he? Was he trying to call? Then she remembered her cell phone. She’d left it on standby at Warner Bros after she called him. Could he have called already and she hadn’t heard? Or was that the phone ringing?
3.25 PM (#ulink_78549fe0-3885-5c6f-ae92-fd44f3b28866)
Rich Wood didn’t find his wife at the Valley View Mall. He didn’t find her at the Galleria Mall, either, though the parking there was more complicated.
Rich knew his wife liked to use valet parking at the Westin Hotel adjacent to the Galleria; Didi loved to just get out of the car and pay four bucks and not worry about parking space. So he drove over to the Westin and asked about Didi’s van at the valet window. The valet, whose name tag read José, asked Rich to describe the van and Didi. Rich did. ‘Oh, jes, Didi, no, she no park here today. She have baby soon?’
José said that the last time he’d seen Didi was four days ago, and he always tried to park her car close for her because when she came out of the mall with the bags, ‘she no like to wait so much.’
The fact that the valet knew his wife by name because she visited the Galleria so often amused Rich. Oh, you Didi. You lead a secret life away from me. While I work, you’re getting to know José. You never told me you were on a first-name basis with the Westin valet.
But he didn’t have a wife to say that to just then. He didn’t even have her van.
Before he left, he dialed her cell phone number again from the pay phone inside the Westin.
3.30 PM (#ulink_d19f644a-77cb-5a2d-ae2d-71d67ac7d433)
The light trill of the cellular phone was unmistakable this time. Didi didn’t move. Glancing over at the man from the corner of her eye, Didi saw he was hypnotized by the road and the radio’s loud music. He wasn’t acknowledging the muffled ringing. She panicked, then became exhilarated.
The phone was buried deep inside her big black carryall on the floor between her and the door. Very, very slowly she reached to her right and in one motion stuck her hand in the bag without moving the rest of her body forward. The phone had rung four times. Keeping her eyes on the road, Didi hunted for the phone inside the bag. Please let me find the damn thing. Her other bag was so small, the phone always lay right on top – on top of her wallet or makeup bag or mail. The cramped bag had been so inconvenient – hence the new one – but now she would give away one of her cats to be able to reach the phone. Six rings. Maybe the man’s hearing was bad, because Didi thought the phone sounded like a church’s noontime bells. Finally, she felt the phone’s smooth leather-covered exterior. Instead of taking the phone out, she flipped it open inside the bag. It stopped ringing. She waited. The man continued to drive, saying nothing. She was silent for a few seconds. And then Didi said, ‘Rich?’
The man came out of his torpor and turned to her.
‘Rich?’ she said again.
‘Who are you talking to? I’m not Rich,’ the man said, looking suspicious and on guard.
‘Well, what is your name?’ she said. ‘You never told me.’ She was hoping Rich could hear her through the muffling effect of the bag.
‘Why are you talking so loud?’ he said. ‘I’m not deaf, you know.’ A pause. ‘And what was that ringing?’ He slammed the radio power off. Didi’s heart stopped. She couldn’t answer.
‘That ringing? What was that?’ He looked over at her. Her hand was in the bag.
‘Was that a phone?’ he screamed. Falling sideways over Didi, he grabbed the bag away from her. The car careened to the right.
Didi heard honking in the distance. She tried to grab the bag, crying weakly, ‘No, no.’ And then louder, ‘Rich! Help me! Help me!’
The man hit her with the bag. He struck her again and again, making guttural sounds and barely keeping the car on the road. Passing cars honked.
Trying to shield herself from the blows, Didi turned away from him toward the door and saw a car in the right lane beside her. The driver, an old woman, was looking over at Didi with great concern. Didi put her hands together as if in a prayer and mouthed help me, help me.
Then the man, having thrown down the bag, yanked her head away from the window and down onto his lap. Didi fell over, hitting her nose on the steering wheel. She saw him floor the gas. Maybe the cops would stop him, Didi thought. Maybe Rich was still on the phone. Encouraged by his phone call, she forgot all caution. She screamed as loudly as she could, ‘Rich, help me, help me!’
And then the man brought his fist down on her ear.
3.31 PM (#ulink_d77e568a-47e0-5931-b8e2-5aba6ac68fb1)
The phone rang six times and then stopped. Rich listened intently and heard nothing, but as he put the receiver back on the hook, he thought he heard a very faint ‘Rich?’
By the time Rich thought he heard Didi’s voice, it was too late. He had already begun hanging up; momentum carried the receiver the rest of the way. The receiver clicked on the hook. ‘Oh, shit,’ he said. Had he really heard her voice calling him? He picked the phone up again and got a dial tone. The first time he redialed the number he did it so fast he dialed only six digits. The second time the line was busy.
Busy again, a minute later.
And a minute later.
And another minute.
He waited five minutes and then called his office, thinking she must have tried to call him back. He hated crossed calls making both numbers busy.
There was nothing.
He called the cell phone again, and the useless message came on: ‘The AT&T customer you have dialed is not available or has traveled outside the coverage area. Please try your call again later.’
He tried to remember what the ‘Rich’ he thought he had heard sounded like. He couldn’t recall. It was muffled and distant. He could have been mistaken. It could have just been a ringing in his ears and not his wife calling his name, whispering it. ‘Rich. Rich.’
He must be imagining things.
Rich drove to the NorthPark Mall. If she wasn’t there, he didn’t know where she could be.
Dillard’s at NorthPark was just off Central Expressway. He found two white Town & Country LXi minivans near Dillard’s, but they weren’t Didi’s.
What was their license plate? TRX something. Or was it THX? No, THX was the sound system he was trying to talk Didi into buying. The license plate was TRX 6 something – or was it 7?
He saw a third Town & Country and slowed down. TJX 672. That was their car. He couldn’t believe it. She was at the mall. He had been wrong about her. She was at the mall and had forgotten all about him.
Rich was first mad, then relieved, then mad again. He parked his car a few spaces away from hers and walked over. He opened the door to look in. The car was as they had left it last night after going out to Applebee’s for dinner. Toys on the floor, newspapers, some shopping bags. Nothing new, nothing he hadn’t seen before. The shopping bags were from last weekend’s shopping expedition. Rich had been with Didi when they bought some clothes from Gap Kids.
He slammed the door shut and locked it. The car beeped once to let him know it was locked.
That’s when Rich saw a white paper bag on the ground and bent down to pick it up. He thought it was something that had fallen out of the minivan when he opened the door, but when he looked inside the bag he saw it had one whole and one half-eaten pretzel in it. He felt the pretzels through the bag. They were soft, and this surprised him. He had expected them to be hard. This bag was not something that had been in the car for two weeks. The bag itself was ripped, with a chunk missing. Rich pulled out a receipt for 2x items at 1.19 ea., bought and paid for with $3.00 at 12.25 PM today.
He turned the bag over a couple of times and noticed brownish stains that could have been chocolate. He smelled them. They didn’t smell like chocolate. They smeared onto his hands. But wait, was Rich going crazy? He put the bag to his face to smell it again.
He doubled over, feeling as if someone had punched him in the stomach.
The bag smelled of his wife’s hand lotion. He knew the smell of her lotion very well. Didi wore it all the time, and the aroma would linger long after Didi had left a room. From Bath and Body Works – Sun-Ripened Raspberry. It smelled berryish and creamy – good enough to eat with a spoon. Rich had watched Didi put it on this morning after her shower and before they made plans for lunch. He had watched her spread it over her arms and legs and neck and remembered thinking how lovely she was with that belly of hers. Grudgingly realizing he wasn’t mad at her anymore, he had asked her to have lunch with him after her doctor’s appointment. Usually he went to the doctor’s with her, but today he was interviewing a candidate for the southwest regional sales manager job all morning and couldn’t make it. Why hadn’t he gone with her?
It was her lotioned hands that had clutched the pretzel bag. Maybe another woman, wearing raspberry lotion on her hands, had bought not one but two of the sweet pretzels his wife loved only five minutes before Didi called him in a sharp voice, asking him to come to lunch early. And then dropped the bag right near their minivan.
Rich didn’t believe in coincidences. This was his Didi’s pretzel bag.
He was sure now it had been her voice he heard calling for him from wherever she was, connecting to him, and he had hung up on her and couldn’t get her back.
Holding the bag in his hands emptied him of all feeling and then filled him with anger. She was at her car when she dropped the bag. She was heading out to meet him when she dropped the bag and vanished.
He grabbed his chest, feeling a nightmarish tightness. ‘God, Didi, Didi,’ he whispered, starting to pant and losing focus in his eyes. What’s happened?
3.40 PM (#ulink_a87500a1-123e-5aae-b1f0-982ada6e194e)
When Didi regained consciousness, she wasn’t lying in the man’s lap, and her face wasn’t squeezed between his abdomen and the steering wheel. She was hunched over on the seat nearly falling onto his shoulder. She realized he must have pulled her up. Her head was throbbing as if her hair were any minute going to be disconnected from her scalp. Squinting, she looked for her bag. He had thrown it down on the passenger floor.
She sat up straight and looked around, rubbing her belly. They were now in the right lane, going sixty-five. No more concerned drivers peering at her through the windows of their cars. Just Texas fields, a few shrubs, some houses off in the distance, a hazy blue post-zenith sky.
Didi moved as far as she could away from him and pressed her body against the passenger door. She wished she could become a liquid and pour herself into the door and disappear. There was obtrusive and persistent ringing in the ear where he had hit her. The radio was playing country music, and the man, cheerful and unperturbed, continued to hum to it.
Didi had to go to the bathroom. The baby’s head was pressing too hard on her shrunken bladder. She had hoped she could just sweat out all the liquid in her body.
‘I feel that we got off on the wrong foot here,’ she heard the man say. She could not believe the words coming out of his mouth. She wanted to say something nasty back, but her teeth felt too large for her mouth and her tongue too unhappy. So she said nothing and waited for him to speak again. Why did her tongue feel so swollen? She rolled it around her mouth. It hurt. Maybe I bit it when he struck me. Parting her lips, she let some air in. Maybe I’m just thirsty.
‘Don’t you think so, too?’ the man said to her.
He’d asked her a question. What was she supposed to say to that? The Belly was locked in a Braxton Hicks. She held on to it for a few seconds and then said, shrugging lightly, hunched over against the door, ‘I guess so.’
‘No, no, we definitely did,’ said the man. ‘And it’s my fault, and I’m sorry for that. We didn’t have time to be properly introduced, and then I was so busy getting us out of Dallas that time just flew. You never even told me your name.’
She opened her mouth to speak. His voice was gentle now, soothing, as if listening to soft country music had relaxed him and made him calm. Had it made him calm enough to stop the car and let her out here in the middle of the highway?
‘When we were in the mall, I was trying to figure out what your name was,’ he said. ‘Did you try to guess what my name was?’
What was he talking about? She needed a drink. A sip or two of water. She was going to lick her wet-with-sweat hand again and then thought better of it.
‘Uh-huh,’ she said, her mouth barely moving. She said it very quietly. ‘Is it John?’
‘No, no.’ He laughed. ‘When I sat and waited for you to be done at Dillard’s, and you did take a long time, you know, I almost left. But anyway, when I sat and looked at your back and hair and legs, I tried to figure out what your name was. Let’s see…Ellen? Sonia? Maybe Jackie?’
He waited for her to answer him.
No, she said, or thought she said.
He nodded. ‘You don’t look like a Melanie, I decided. My wife is a Melanie, and you look nothing like my wife.’
Didi stared at her yellow sundress. She had felt so happy when she put it on this morning.
‘Monica?’ he continued. ‘No, that’s a tall name, and you aren’t tall. Annette? No. That’s a short name, and you aren’t short.’ He glanced at her, a smile widening his lips. ‘You are just right.’
She looked away.
‘You aren’t blond like a Jennifer, or made up like a Jessica. You don’t look smart like a Melissa, or lazy like a Megan. Am I right so far?’
‘You’re right so far,’ Didi said faintly.
He tapped on the steering wheel. ‘I’m having fun here. Right. This is tons better than working at some pathetic little job for a few bucks.’
I knew it. He wants money, thought Didi.
He seemed to be enjoying himself. He was smiling and looked as if he hadn’t a care in the world. The tension was gone, though he still kept both hands conscientiously on the wheel. ‘Hey, want to play a little game? Guess mine and then I’ll guess yours.’ He almost giggled with delight.
‘Listen,’ Didi said. ‘I’d love to play, but do you think we can get a drink somewhere first?’ She thought that stopping would be preferable to being stuck in the car with him. There would be people, she might be able to get away, call for help, anything but sit in the car and sweat.
The man’s smile dimmed a little. ‘What? And have you perform one of your little antics again? You’re dangerous enough in a moving car. No, I’m going to take you to a safe place. Now guess my name.’ He paused. ‘Tell you what.’ The smile returned. ‘If you guess my name in three tries, I’ll stop and get you a drink. Don’t want to dehydrate a pregnant woman, do I?’ His hand reached out to – oh my God, what was he doing? Was he thinking of touching the Belly? Didi was sitting too far away or he reconsidered, because he put his hand back on the wheel. ‘No, no, we certainly don’t. But you have to play a part in quenching your own thirst. Is that fair?’
Is that fair? she thought. Up to one o’clock, the unfairest part of today had been the doctor telling Didi the baby might be too big and they might need to induce labor a little early to make sure there were no complications during delivery. And she remembered thinking to herself, God, it’s unfair, to be penalized for having a big baby.
‘Let’s play,’ said Didi.
3.45 PM (#ulink_b8b08291-cbcf-5c67-88da-802746615bbd)
Rich felt like bashing his head against the nearest car. What’s happened to my wife? he thought, and then screamed. Screamed right in the middle of the Dillard’s parking lot.
‘Didi!’ he shouted, and her name echoed amid the Toyotas and the Hondas and the Fords. ‘DIDI!’
A couple walking by turned to look at him and then lowered their heads and sped up. Rich ran after them.
‘Have you seen my wife?’ he said fervently. ‘My wife, five-seven, brown hair, brown eyes, very pregnant?’
They stared as if everything was not all right with him.
‘Please,’ he said, in a lower, pleading voice. ‘My wife. Very pregnant. Have you seen her?’
The woman took her husband’s arm. ‘No, sorry,’ she said and tried to push past Rich. The man followed, casting a sympathetic look at him. The man understood. But the woman shot him a frightened sneer; she must have thought Rich was crazy.
Clutching the pretzel bag, Rich ran inside the mall, heading straight for the Freshens Yogurt stand. As he ran, he was thinking that perhaps Didi had been walking to the car, dropped the bag by accident, thought of something she’d forgotten to buy, and gone back to the mall. But he knew that made no sense. She went back and didn’t call him? Her phone had been on, her voice whispering ‘Rich,’ when he dialed her number. She could have called him. But she hadn’t called him. She hadn’t got into an accident. The car was in the parking lot. Didi wasn’t calling because she couldn’t call, and the proof was in his hands.
A girl stood behind the Freshens Yogurt counter. She smiled. ‘Can I help you?’
‘I hope so,’ said Rich intensely. ‘I hope so. My wife –’ He stammered. ‘My wife was here earlier today.’ He thrust the bag at her. She moved away. ‘My wife was here and bought these two pretzels.’
‘Walt, hold on, hold on, sir,’ said the girl. ‘I just came on. I don’t know anything.’
‘Who worked before you?’
‘Alex. He just left.’ Rich’s face must have implied urgency, because she said, ‘Wait, maybe he’s still in the back changing. Hold on.’
She came back a few minutes later with Alex.
‘It’s your lucky day,’ said Alex.
‘Somehow I doubt it,’ said Rich. ‘Unless you want to redefine the nature of my luck.’ He thrust the bag with the receipt and the pretzels at Alex. ‘My wife was here earlier. She bought these here.’
Glancing at the receipt, Alex said, almost defensively, ‘Is something wrong with them?’
‘No, but something could be wrong with my wife,’ said Rich. ‘She’s disappeared.’
Alex smirked a little. ‘Do you think it had something to do with the pretzels?’
The counter rattled when Rich slammed down his fist. ‘You think that’s funny? Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear. Let me explain. My wife, nine months pregnant, was here earlier today shopping. At twelve twenty-five she bought these from you. At twelve-thirty she called me and asked if she could meet me for lunch earlier than planned. At one o’clock she didn’t show up, and no one’s heard from her since. So now, tell me what part of that you find funny, so we can laugh together.’
Paling, Alex said, ‘Hey, look, I’m sorry, I didn’t do anything. What did your wife look like?’
‘Pregnant. Extremely, inordinately, unbelievably pregnant. How many pregnant women did you serve today?’
‘Well, one that I remember,’ said Alex grumpily. ‘But you know, the counter is high – I don’t look over and check out my customers’ stomachs.’
Rich reached over and grabbed Alex by the shoulders, shaking him. ‘God, help me. Please,’ he whispered. ‘My wife is missing.’
Immediately he let go; Alex looked noticeably upset. Rubbing his arms, the teenager said, ‘Look, I don’t know anything. I just saw one pregnant woman here, long dark hair, carrying a lot of bags.’
Rich brightened. ‘Yes?’ he said. ‘That sounds like my wife. What was she wearing?’
‘I don’t know – oh, wait. A yellow dress.’
Rich nodded. ‘That’s my wife.’ Did that make him feel better? If it did, it didn’t make him feel better for long.
‘Yeah?’ Alex said. ‘That’s all I can tell you. She bought a couple of pretzels, I think. Paid. Left, carrying all her bags. A guy who was here buying a pretzel for himself caught up to her and asked her if she needed some help with the bags –’
Rich asked in a small, stricken voice, ‘What guy?’
‘I don’t know. Some guy. I’d never seen him before.’
‘No, of course not. Did my wife seem to know him?’
‘No. He seemed nice, though. Kept asking her questions about the pregnancy, you know, when she was due, that sort of thing.’
Rich stepped back from the counter. ‘This guy, what did he look like?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Alex. ‘I didn’t pay attention.’
‘Please try to remember.’
‘I really don’t know. Maybe your age.’ Alex looked Rich over. ‘How old are you?’
‘Thirty-four.’
‘No. I don’t know. He was older than me, that’s all I know.’
‘Beard? Mustache?’
‘No, clean-cut. Short hair. Taller than me.’
‘Taller than me?‘ asked Rich.
‘How tall are you?’
‘Six feet.’
‘No, I don’t think so. Taller than your wife.’
‘Do you remember what he was wearing?’
‘Listen, he was just a guy. There was nothing special about him. He was just another customer, you know?’
‘You don’t remember what he was wearing?’
Shrugging, Alex said, ‘No, not really.’ He glanced over at the salesgirl, who was listening to the conversation. She shrugged, as if to give him moral support. Alex turned back to Rich. ‘I think jeans, a jacket. But I can’t be sure.’
Rich was quiet. ‘You said he approached my wife and asked her if she needed help with the bags?’
‘I think that’s what he asked her.’
‘And she?’
‘I don’t know. They were, like, too far from me. I didn’t hear her. I assume she said no thanks, because he lagged behind and she walked on by herself.’
‘When you say lagged behind –’
‘What?’
‘“Lagged behind” implies he followed her. Or did he turn around and go the other way?’
Scratching his head, Alex said, ‘No. I think he lagged behind. I think he went the same way she did. I’m not sure. I got another customer, and stopped watching them.’
Rich’s hands were drumming on the counter. ‘Did you get a feeling about him?’
‘No, I got no feeling about him,’ said Alex, for some reason sounding offended.
‘Did you see him again?’
‘No, I got busy. It was lunchtime. I didn’t see anybody.’
‘Didn’t see my wife either?’
‘Uh – come to think of it, I did see him. I saw her too. She was walking back from over there.’ Alex pointed. ‘She had more bags in her hands. She looked tired, but was walking faster than before. Like she was hurrying, you know?’
‘And when did you see him?’
Alex thought. ‘I don’t know. I think after I saw her. He was kind of shuffling along.’
‘Was he going in the same direction she was going?’
‘Well, I don’t know if it was in the same direction.’ Alex pointed to the mall aisle. ‘You see, either someone is walking to the left or they’re walking to the right. They either disappear behind the wall to the right or they disappear here to the left. Occasionally they may go into Dillard’s or sit near the fountain. But that’s it. I saw her going to the left, and I saw him going to the left too.’
‘Yes,’ said Rich in a raspy voice. ‘What time was that?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe a little after one. I went on my break at one-thirty.’
‘Alex, please take a ride with me, will you? To the police station.’
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ said Alex, looking nervous. ‘I’m not getting in a car with you. I don’t know you.’
‘Okay, then can I use your phone? I have to call the police.’
They let him call the police, and then they waited. Rich called home, found out that Didi had not called or returned. He asked Ingrid to call his mother and ask her to come and take care of the children for him.
‘Is everything all right?’
‘Yeah, sure,’ said Rich, closing his eyes as he leaned on the counter for support. ‘We’re just – I’m just going to be delayed – listen, don’t worry. How are the girls?’
‘Hold on,’ said Ingrid. ‘Irene wants to talk to you.’
Rich tried to put on his cheeriest voice. ‘Hi, honey. How was playgroup?’
Three-year-old Irene didn’t want to talk about playgroup. ‘Daddy,’ she whined, ‘Manda won’t share Sing and Dance Barbie with me!’
‘It’s okay, honey,’ Rich said. ‘Where’s yours?’
‘Mine broke and now she won’t share hers!’
In the background, Rich heard Amanda’s voice. ‘She broke hers and now she wants to break mine!’ Then, ‘Give me the phone! I have to talk to Daddy too.’
Rich took a deep breath. He heard the phone crash to the floor, followed by piercing screams. Ingrid picked up the receiver and said, ‘Everything is all right.’
‘Good,’ Rich said. ‘Please call my mother.’
‘If you want, I can stay a little later,’ Ingrid said.
‘Thanks. I don’t know how late we’ll be, though.’
‘Is Didi having the baby?’
And in the background, Irene shrieked, ‘Mommy’s having the baby! Mommy’s having the baby!’
Rich tensely rubbed the bridge of his nose. All he wanted to do was hang up. ‘No, she’s not having the baby. Just call my mom, Ingrid, please.’
He had no stomach to call his mother himself. He had nothing to tell her, anyway. He just needed her help. His mother was going to lose it no matter what. Ingrid had never called before to ask Barbara Wood to come over and help with the children. Rich knew that talking to his mother required too much of him, and he didn’t have the patience for it. Ingrid asked again if everything was all right, and Rich said yes, sure, but had to hang up. He could barely hold himself together.
Five minutes later the police arrived. There were two officers – Officer Charles, a man, and Officer Patterson, a woman. Patterson did not seem particularly sympathetic and Rich took an instant dislike to her. She reminded Rich of the disapproving older woman in the parking lot. Like, what’s the matter, your wife is away from you for a few hours and you panic? What about when you leave us to go on your business trips and we can’t get in touch with you? What about when you go out with the boys and say you’re coming home at midnight and it’s three and you’re still not home? Don’t worry, Officer Patterson’s casual expression read. Your wife is probably at the movies.
Officer Charles was talking, but through the din in Rich’s head he could barely hear him. Then he realized the din was there just so he couldn’t hear Charles speak, because Rich didn’t like what he was hearing. Something about not jumping to conclusions.
Rich wasn’t sure if he needed to respond to that or just get in his car and go home. He said, ‘I thought you came to help me. If you can’t help me, then let me talk to someone who can.’
The officers tried with little effect to be more helpful. ‘Could your wife have gone into labor?’ said the woman officer. ‘Could she be in the hospital somewhere?’
Shaking his head, Rich said, ‘We’re preregistered at Columbia Medical. If she was having a baby, that’s where she would go, and they have my number. Also she has it. She’s not there. I called them. And no one’s called me.’
‘Could she have been in an accident?’ said Charles.
‘Yes, yes, she could have,’ Rich said impatiently, failing despite his best wishes to talk slowly, calmly, reasonably. ‘No, absolutely. You’re so right. She could have been in an accident.’ He paused. ‘But not in her own car. Because our car is parked out –’ and he flung his arm for emphasis – ‘there.’
Officer Charles stared at him. ‘Perhaps she had an accident in someone else’s car?’ he said.
‘Maybe she met a friend and decided to spend the afternoon with him or her,’ Officer Patterson suggested.
Rich rubbed his eyes, shaking with frustration, and other things. ‘Oh, dear Jesus! We had a lunch date at one. She didn’t show up. She has the cell phone with her –’
‘Maybe it ran out of power,’ said Patterson.
‘You mean to tell me that my wife decided to stand me up after calling me and asking me to meet her early?’ he said loudly. He may have even shouted. The officers asked him if he wanted to go upstairs and talk to them privately in the security offices. Rich refused.
‘Could she still be in the mall, maybe?’ said Charles, while Patterson looked at Rich disapprovingly.
‘Okay,’ said Rich. ‘She buys a pretzel from Alex at twelve twenty-five, at which point she’s accosted by a stranger who offers to carry her bags. She refuses. He follows her –’
‘He goes in the same direction she’s heading,’ Officer Patterson corrected him.
‘Of course, excuse me. At twelve-thirty she calls my office and asks me to meet her a little early for lunch. That’s unique in my experience.’
‘Maybe you’re prejudging your wife,’ said Officer Patterson. ‘There’s a first time for everything.’
Rich faced the male officer. ‘She shops for a little while longer, and then Alex sees her heading that way.’ Rich pointed. ‘Which is where her car is parked. I know because it’s still there. The man is walking in the same direction she is. I know you say it’s a coincidence, but how many can we have in one day?’ Rich could not stop moving. ‘If my wife met me for lunch, then I’d say everything’s hunky-dory and isn’t it all so coincidental. But she didn’t meet me for lunch. No one’s heard from her. Her car is still parked outside. Which means that my pregnant wife with all her shopping bags is still in this mall, because the bags are not in the car. Except for this bag, the pretzel bag. I found it next to our minivan. Look, there’s a receipt in it, two pretzels, my wife’s smell on the bag, and what to me looks like her blood. Look!’ He shoved the bag rudely into Officer Patterson’s face and then into Officer Charles’s. ‘What do you think it is?’
‘Listen, maybe her nose bled, and she decided to come. back in,’ said Officer Patterson, a little more sympathetically. ‘Then she met someone she knew, and decided to spend the afternoon with them. That’s likely, right?’
‘Then why hasn’t she called me?’ Rich screamed.
They looked frightened of him. Frightened and concerned. As if they didn’t understand what was driving him, what he was so upset about.
Am I crazy? Am I mad? Have I lost my sanity? Rich looked around him. There was the Disney Store, there was Dillard’s, there was FAO Schwarz. He could see, he could comprehend. He wasn’t insane yet. Rich concluded that police officers were trained to deal with robberies and homicides and rapes, but not trained to deal with fear.
‘Tell you what,’ Officer Patterson said. ‘If she’s in this mall, let’s alert mall security. They’ll call for her on the PA.’
Rich threw up his hands. He paced furiously near the fountain in the middle of the mall, peering into strange faces walking past him while the officers went to talk to security upstairs. Rich was still hoping that somehow Didi would miraculously appear before him with a new hairdo. Within five minutes there was an announcement over the public address system: ‘Will Didi Wood please come to the security office on the second floor as soon as possible?’ It was repeated twice.
Rich sat down, leaned his elbows on his knees, and held his head in his hands. Seconds later he was up and pacing again. Five minutes later – which seemed an eternity – there was another announcement: ‘Will anyone with any information about the whereabouts of a nine-month-pregnant woman with long brown hair and wearing a yellow dress notify the management or the security personnel as soon as possible.’ That message was also repeated twice.
The officers came back to Rich and flanked him as he walked back and forth. ‘Let’s wait and see. Okay? Let’s wait and see what happens,’ said Officer Charles.
They didn’t have to wait long.
Rich saw two women walking alongside a security officer, and he immediately moved toward them. Charles and Patterson followed.
The young security officer said, ‘These ladies here said they might have seen a pregnant woman in the parking lot earlier today.’
‘What time was that?’ Rich snapped.
Officer Charles put up his hand as if to stop Rich. ‘Wait a second,’ he said gently to Rich. He turned to the women. ‘What time was that?’
The ladies shrugged. They were short and chubby. The taller of the short women – bleached, heavy, and middleaged – said, ‘I don’t know. Maybe around one. We were just coming into the mall.’
‘And what happened?’
‘We parked our car and started walking to the entrance. Then all of a sudden a lady started screaming.’
An uncontrolled groan left Rich’s throat. For a few seconds no one spoke. Rich couldn’t even look up from the floor. He could barely stand.
‘Go on,’ Officer Charles said quietly.
There were tears in the woman’s eyes. ‘I feel so bad now, you know, because then we looked over at her, and she had a guy with her, and he smiled at us, wrapped an arm around her, and started kissing her –’
‘Started what?’ Rich said, horrified.
‘Started kissing her.’
He briefly felt relief. ‘Well, then, that couldn’t have been my wife.’
‘Maybe not,’ she said. ‘But this woman was very pregnant and she had long brown hair. She was screaming, “Help me, help me,” and then the guy kissed her and we just thought they were fooling around, you know? Didn’t we, Debbie?’
Trembling, Rich clenched and unclenched his fists.
‘This guy, what did he look like?’
Officer Charles extended his hand again. ‘Mr Wood, wait.’ He turned to the woman. ‘What did this guy look like?’
‘We didn’t see him so good,’ she said. ‘We just saw them from the side, you know. She was wearing a white dress –’
‘White?’ Rich exclaimed, his heart pounding.
‘Not white, Nancy,’ said Debbie. ‘It was yellow. Remember I said it was a cheerful color?’
‘Oh yeah,’ Nancy said. ‘Yellow. And the guy, he was, I don’t know – a little taller than her. Kind of thin, I think. Right, Deb?’
‘Yeah, he was taller than her. He was wearing jeans and a jacket, that’s all I remember. He was kind of nondescript, and we couldn’t see them well.’
Rich nodded in anxious agreement. ‘Nondescript – that’s exactly how Alex described the guy who was hanging around Didi when she bought the pretzels.’
Officer Patterson looked at Rich. He couldn’t place the peculiar expression and thought maybe it was guilt for her earlier reluctance to believe that Didi was in trouble, but then Patterson asked, ‘Does the man sound like anyone you know?’
Rich wished Patterson was a man and not a police officer, because he wanted to hit her. ‘What the hell are you saying to me?’ he said and didn’t care how he sounded. ‘What the hell do you think you’re saying? Does the guy sound like someone I might know? The guy who kisses my wife as she’s screaming for help? You know, no one like that springs to mind at the moment.’ Rich glared at her. ‘You’re saying, do I know if my pregnant wife has been fooling around behind my back?’
The officers looked ashamed, and the two women were downright embarrassed. ‘You just can’t help yourself, can you?’ Rich said to Patterson. ‘You just can’t help saying the wrong thing.’
‘I apologize,’ Patterson started to say, but Rich cut her off. ‘Obviously you have a problem dealing with people, and I see that as a real detriment in your line of work, considering you pretty much have to deal with people all day long.’
Disgusted with her, he turned away and spoke to Officer Charles. ‘Why are you looking for every possible explanation except the obvious? Her nose bled, she met a friend, the cell phone’s dead, she forgot about our lunch date, blah, blah, blah. Everything. God, can’t you see what must have happened?’ He was choking on his words. ‘My wife is missing. My pregnant wife – she’s probably been taken by force –’ The words were larger than his throat. ‘What can we do now?’ He looked around and walked back a few steps to sink into the wooden bench. ‘What do we do now?’ he said and buried his face in his hands.
4.00 PM (#ulink_4a70c82f-cf72-5dcf-aeba-fb57a885d7ab)
The man kept a steady pace on the road. They had just passed Midlothian, twenty miles south of Dallas.
‘What are the rules of our game?’ Didi asked.
‘Rules?’ Pleasure showed on his face. ‘Okay, how about this? We do it in three guesses and I give you three clues.’
‘Sounds good,’ said Didi, licking her lips. She liked it better when he wasn’t sullen.
‘My name,’ said the man, ‘is the name of a great country singer.’ She said, ‘Kenny?’
‘Kenny?’ he exclaimed. ‘Gosh, no! I said great, didn’t I? Not a hack. No, a great, incredible country singer. Two more guesses left.’
‘Well, then,’ said Didi, ‘I need two more clues, don’t I?’
He thought about it, saying nothing for a while. He drove. The sun beat hot on the car. Didi was panting. She needed cool air.
‘Okay, how about this – he’s tall.’
Shaking her head, Didi said, ‘They’re all tall, tall is not a good clue. Sort of like, they’re all men.’ She thought she’d gone too far. Like she was insulting his clues or something.
It was clear he thought the same thing, because he said to her, ‘Are you trying to get smart with me?’
‘No, no,’ she quickly said. ‘I mean, maybe something a tiny bit more specific.’
‘I was married recently,’ he said, and Didi couldn’t be sure if he was in character or talking about his own life. ‘And now I’m not anymore.’
‘Why not?’ said Didi.
‘Because my wife was a hopeless slut and wouldn’t settle down,’ he said harshly.
She guessed he was in character. ‘Lyle Lovett,’ Didi said. ‘Lyle.’
He looked at her sideways with amazement and maybe even admiration. ‘Wow. Two guesses. My name is Lyle. That’s incredible. Very fast. Lovett is not my last name, though.’
‘No, of course not,’ Didi said. And then, ‘Lyle is a nice name.’ Sucker-upper, she thought. You’ll say anything to save your life, won’t you?
She must have looked stricken, because he said solicitously, ‘What’s the matter?’ and placed his right hand on her knee.
It was difficult not to cringe and pull away from him. Wiping her face quickly, she said, ‘Can I have that drink now? I’m really very thirsty.’
‘Well, hold on, hold on,’ said the man named Lyle. ‘I have to guess your name now, too, don’t I?’
‘I can just tell you my name,’ Didi offered.
‘No!’ He stuck out his hand. ‘I want to guess. Please. I was having so much fun with this at Dillard’s. Let me see…what do I get if I guess in three?’ And he leered at her, smiling suggestively and pursing his lips. She wanted to open the door and fall out of the car onto the embankment. She would have done so if she hadn’t had a baby inside her.
‘I don’t know,’ she said helplessly. She did not add, what do you want?
‘How about a little kiss?’ he said, reaching out and placing his hand on her leg, just below her dress line. His hand on her bare leg made her emit a retching sound.
Lyle took his hand away. ‘Yes,’ he said, not smiling. ‘Maybe we’ll start with a little kiss. Now give me the first clue.’
She tried to swallow. Her throat was dry. She needed to swallow to ease her anxiety, but there was nothing to swallow with. The need, though, was great. She wiped her sweaty forehead and, panting, put her hand in her mouth. Unsatisfying, but better than the tightness that overwhelmed and paralyzed her. ‘Okay, first clue,’ she said huskily. ‘I was a major female character in an old, very famous play.’
Lyle’s brow furrowed. Suddenly he didn’t seem to be enjoying himself. He obviously realized it was going to be harder than he had thought. ‘Play?’ he said grumpily. ‘I don’t know any plays. What do you mean?’
‘Well, that’s my first clue. If you want another clue, I’ll give it to you, but then it will be two clues.’
‘No, wait. Let me guess.’ He looked pensive. ‘An old play?’
She was quiet, rubbing her sore right ear. ‘Yes, an old play.’
There was an echo in her ear, and the ringing would pass through the canyon of her eardrum, bounce off, and ring in both ears. She was getting a terrific headache. Lowering her hands to the Belly, Didi felt the baby kick. In the first second it gave her comfort, in the second, anguish. The baby.
‘I’ve never seen a play in my life,’ said Lyle.
‘What about in high school?’
‘Yeah,’ he drew out. ‘Maybe in high school. Guys and Dolls, maybe. Sound of Music. Yes! Your name is Maria.’
‘No,’ she said, and thought, idiot. Didn’t I say an old play?
‘No?’ He seemed disappointed. He had looked so proud of himself when he said Maria. The baby kicked again. She closed her eyes.
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Paullina Simons
A compelling, heartrending tale of a woman in danger and the man who’s desperate to find her, from the internationally bestselling author of TULLY and ROAD TO PARADISEA heavily pregnant young woman is leaving the shopping mall to head home on a horribly hot day in Texas. Her normal life of shopping, husband, children, with the extra excitement of the imminent baby, stretches before her.And then she is bundled into a car and kidnapped by a desperate young man.What does he want? Where are they going?In scenes that alternate between the desperate husband, pursuing by car, the alarmingly laid-back FBI agent tracing her by helicopter - who may or may not be as good as he thinks at rescuing hostages - and the increasingly threatened wife, Eleven Hours is a tour de force of storytelling power.
PAULLINA SIMONS
ELEVEN HOURS
Copyright (#ulink_2dd356cc-6753-5c95-abf7-35be93b0b278)
Harper An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk (http://www.harpercollins.co.uk)
First published in Great Britain by Flamingo an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1998
Copyright © Paullina Simons 1998
Paullina Simons asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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HarperCollinsPublishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication.
Source ISBN: 9780006551119
Ebook Edition © MARCH 2015 ISBN: 9780007397310
Version: 2015-03-09
For my third child
It was not you that sent me here.
JOSEPH TO HIS BROTHERS, GEN. 45:9
Table of Contents
Cover Page (#u8a6920d0-7829-5fb3-9a03-82141a041e71)
Title Page (#u3633b579-c6f1-5083-a573-906dfb216a73)
Copyright (#u1347dfca-c530-5d28-aacd-45ee94adf9d3)
Epigraph (#uc23e15f8-2ea0-5d91-a7f6-931afeaf04a3)
11.45 AM (#u882c3b5e-31e8-58c3-bdcd-b88e996dc18c)
12.58 PM (#ue0f45c99-163c-5e62-8850-186dba0822fa)
1.20 PM (#uad186243-1b2c-5ca1-8755-ada4bb03549c)
1.25 PM (#u30310b19-f685-5154-9b78-6ac12ac78b9a)
1.30 PM (#uaa6b2910-610e-5ae2-bc76-cb52492b9040)
1.45 PM (#u9758fb42-0884-500c-bd17-224161ff295b)
1.45 PM (#u6ad70c85-0741-5093-973e-ce8e886470cd)
2.20 PM (#u2c5b1500-d544-50d3-9bdc-890abeeeaed5)
2.30 PM (#ud0220278-c57f-523f-8496-1fc7b4980da6)
3.25 PM (#ud166a21c-a32b-5c92-bd26-523ba8c2e819)
3.30 PM (#u11b93344-6226-5c2d-b581-86a8178a2acd)
3.31 PM (#uecbb3085-ebea-5195-a3de-3a270f537499)
3.40 PM (#u80287163-7a1e-5963-990c-24e5d93a7ac3)
3.45 PM (#uc8b29c94-df4c-54d7-90bd-220739daf7f6)
4.00 PM (#uba2211b0-60a4-5bb5-8d36-214fe97df27b)
4.15 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
4.30 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
4.45 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
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5.10 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
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5.20 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
5.30 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
6.11 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
6.30 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
7.00 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
7.15 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
7.45 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
8.00 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
8.05 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
8.40 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
9.00 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
9.00 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
9.20 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
9.30 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
9.45 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
10.00 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
10.05 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
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10.20 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
10.20 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
10.35 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
10.35 PM (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Keep Reading (#litres_trial_promo)
Acknowledgments (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
Also by the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
11.45 AM (#ulink_f085f590-647c-559b-93a5-ea027a8cd33e)
Didi Wood was walking to the mall from her car when her pregnant belly began to tighten until it felt like a taut basketball. She winced through her discomfort and slowed down to a near halt; this contraction was particularly strong. She leaned against a minivan, rubbing her belly with one hand as she wiped her forehead with the other. Maybe she shouldn’t go to the mall. But she had promised Amanda new alphabet blocks a few days ago, and she wanted to keep her promise. Also, she needed new face cream.
Didi thought it was a good day for the air-conditioned comfort shopping provided. Dallas was having a brief heat spell. It was called summer. She contemplated driving to Rich’s office and spending the hour before their lunch date relaxing on his small sofa, but decided to stay. She’d be all right. It was only an hour.
She couldn’t wait to get inside the mall. When she had left the house earlier for her doctor’s appointment, the temperature had already been in the high nineties. A radio bulletin had informed her there was a heat advisory on – for old ladies, for small children, and for women in Didi’s delicate condition.
Perspiring and uncomfortable, she waddled into NorthPark.
Estée Lauder had something for her at Dillard’s. The last thing Didi needed was more cosmetics, but who was she to refuse a little gift from a big department store? She was offered moisture-rich black mascara, two lipsticks whose shades she didn’t particularly like, a perfume sampler, a pocket brush, some hand cream, and a makeup bag. It was the makeup bag she wanted.
The gift was free – with a $17.50 purchase.
Didi thought it was uncanny the way Estée Lauder never priced her products at $17.50. Oh, there was plenty for $15, all kinds of lipsticks and eyeliners and mascaras. And there was plenty for $30, $50, and $72. Nothing actually for $17.50.
To get the free gift, Didi spent $108.75 – plus tax. She bought a jar of Fruition face cream, a rose lipstick for spring, even though it was July, and a teal eye pencil for her brown eyes. While she was waiting to pay, Didi felt the Belly tighten again. She grasped the counter.
‘Oh,’ the girl behind the counter said. ‘Not long now?’
Didi managed to nod.
‘When are you due?’
The contraction passed, and Didi looked at her watch. ‘In about two hours,’ she said lightly.
After seeing the frightened expression on the salesgirl’s pretty face, Didi said, ‘Just kidding. I guess you don’t have any kids – two weeks.’
The salesgirl breathed a short sigh of relief and smiled. ‘Whew,’ she said. ‘You’re right, I don’t have any kids. Not yet, anyway.’ Then, with a little nervous laugh, she asked. ‘You’re not in labor, are you?’
‘No, no,’ Didi said, outwardly smiling but inwardly fretting, wishing the girl would hurry with her receipt. She wanted to get to FAO Schwarz. She added, ‘I’m having these little fake contractions. Braxton Hicks, they’re called. They’re a pain, but they’re not the real thing. Believe me, they’re nothing like the real thing.’
The girl giggled. ‘Oh, gosh, I’m never having kids. It’s just all so scary, the labor, the pregnancy.’ The girl handed Didi the receipt.
‘It’s not too bad,’ Didi said, signing her name. ‘It’s really not too bad at all. You forget right away.’
‘Bet you don’t,’ said the girl.
‘No you do,’ said Didi. ‘You have to. Otherwise we’d never have more than one baby.’
‘I guess you’re right,’ said the girl, looking at Didi’s face. ‘Your skin is so nice. Do you use any foundation?’
Didi pushed the signed receipt toward the girl and reached for her makeup, which the girl wasn’t giving her. ‘I’m done here. Thanks anyway. Can I have my stuff, please?’
‘Oh, sure, sure,’ said the girl, handing her the bag. ‘Well, good luck.’
Didi smiled. ‘Have a nice day.’
In FAO Schwarz, the matronly woman behind the counter complimented Didi on her sleeveless yellow sundress. ‘Banana Republic,’ replied Didi.
‘Oh, I didn’t know they did maternity,’ said the saleswoman.
‘They don’t,’ Didi said. ‘It’s an extra large.’ She hated saying ‘extra large,’ but she didn’t like being ashamed of her size either. The woman handed her the bags and said, ‘Are you going to be okay with these? They’re kind of heavy.’
‘I’ll be fine,’ said Didi. ‘I only have a few more stops to make.’
She was glad NorthPark wasn’t as busy as it was on Saturdays. She didn’t like to push through crowds with her bags and the Belly.
In Coach, Didi bought herself a new leather purse. It was brown, medium-sized, and on sale for $60, down from $120. With the $60 saved, she bought herself a wallet.
‘When are you due?’ asked the lady helping her.
‘Two weeks,’ replied Didi, holding on to the Belly. She needed to sit. Gravity was pulling the baby down. Didi needed him or her to stay inside for a few more weeks. She and Rich were planning an escape to Lake Texoma in Oklahoma the following weekend.
‘Do you know what it’s going to be?’
Didi shook her head. ‘We want to be surprised,’ she said.
‘That’s nice,’ said the lady. ‘I couldn’t do that. I wanted to know with my two kids. I have two boys.’
Didi smiled, signing the American Express receipt. ‘That’s nice. We have two girls. Do you like having two boys?’
‘Oh, yes,’ said the lady. Before Didi had a chance to reply, the woman said, ‘They’re a handful. But I wanted to try again for a girl. My husband said no more. What if we continue having boys for ten years? Two’s plenty, he said. Who am I to argue, right? He pays the bills. I only work to make myself a little extra for the holidays, you know?’
Didi smiled and nodded knowingly. ‘We would like a boy,’ she admitted. ‘But it doesn’t matter. Boy or girl, we’re done after this one.’
‘I hear you, sister,’ said the saleslady.
Didi laughed. ‘I’m sure your boys must be wonderful,’ she said.
‘Oh, no, they’re terrors,’ said the lady. ‘Five and seven. Absolute terrors.’
As she walked out of Coach, Didi smelled something sweet and delicious. She looked at her watch. 12.20. Lunch with Richie in forty minutes. She remembered their fight last night and sighed. No. She was meeting Rich in forty minutes, but that didn’t mean she would be eating in forty minutes because there would be more arguing, recriminations, and apologies before food was ordered and served. Didi thought it could be as long as an hour and a half before she saw actual food. That was just too long to wait. She had a hankering for something now, something that didn’t include bickering. A sweet pretzel would do nicely.
Didi headed for the Freshens Yogurt stand, which also sold pretzels. She knew she had only two speeds – slow and very slow. Weighed down with thirty pounds of baby and baby nesting plus Dillard’s, FAO Schwarz, and Coach shopping bags in her hands, she felt as if she were moving only through inertia, which dictated that bodies in motion stay in motion. She wished she were a body at rest.
‘Could I have an almond pretzel, please?’ Didi asked the teenage boy behind the counter. The words came out softly between short breaths.
‘Sure. Would you like any topping on it?’ he asked her.
‘No, thank you. Just a pretzel.’ A second later, she said, ‘Make that two. And some water, please.’
‘One pretzel for you, one for the baby,’ a voice next to her said. She turned her head to the right and found herself face to face with a young man. He had a wide friendly smile on his face. She smiled back, but – something in his face thinned her own smile. A small pit opened up inside her stomach. The feeling reminded her of high school days when she’d meet someone cute and her heart would fall a foot in her chest.
The falling didn’t come because he was cute, and her heart didn’t skip because she was excited. Her heart skipped because the man was looking at her with a warm smile of familiarity, with the smile of someone who’d known her for ages. Didi was sure she’d never met him.
There was something else odd about him, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.
Reluctantly, she acknowledged him. ‘No, actually. One for me, one for my husband. The baby eats plenty as it is.’
‘Yeah, those babies can get mighty hungry,’ he said. ‘My wife had a baby boy a little while ago.’
‘That’s nice,’ she said, turning away from him. ‘Congratulations.’
‘Do you know if it’s a boy or a girl?’ asked the guy behind the counter, handing Didi a white paper bag with two pretzels in it.
‘No. It doesn’t really matter,’ Didi said evasively.
‘Oh, you say it doesn’t matter,’ the friendly man beside her said. ‘But you know it matters a lot. We all want what we want.’
‘No, really,’ Didi said, wishing he would stop talking to her. ‘As long as the baby’s healthy.’ She studied him briefly. He was somewhere in his late twenties, clean-shaven, neatly dressed, thin, and of medium height. His light brown hair was carefully trimmed above his ears. He had blue or green eyes; Didi couldn’t be sure in the artificial light of the mall and didn’t want to look at him that closely. Underneath his navy nylon jacket he wore a white shirt. He wasn’t bad-looking.
‘Bet your husband wants a boy, though,’ the man said.
He doesn’t know I have a husband, Didi thought, and then remembered mentioning that one of the pretzels was for her husband. She was instantly upset with herself. Why am I being unkind to him? she thought. I’m being unkind and unchristian.
‘Bet your husband wants a boy, though,’ the man repeated evenly.
‘If he does, he isn’t telling,’ Didi said quickly. She took out three dollars and paid for the pretzels.
Taking a gulp of water, she gave the cup back to the salesclerk to throw out. She didn’t have a free hand to carry a drink. Throwing the change inside her purse, Didi said in a friendly voice, ‘Well, have a nice day.’
‘Yeah, you too,’ said the guy behind the counter.
The man followed her as she walked away from the store. Didi tried to speed up but realized it was impossible. He came up beside her and said, ‘Hey. Do you need help with those bags? They look so heavy.’
Didi tried to speed up again. Did she look as if she was languishing? ‘They’re fine, not too bad at all,’ she said. ‘But thanks. Have a nice day, okay?’
‘You sure? I don’t mind helping. Don’t have much to do right now. Really.’
She tried not to look at him. A troubled feeling settled on her heart – no, she thought, she was being silly.
She saw a Warner Bros store. ‘Really, I’m fine,’ she said, moving away from him. ‘Thanks anyway.’
She walked into the store without looking back, but the heaviness didn’t leave her chest.
Didi went toward the children’s section and looked around, putting down her bags and taking a few bites of the pretzel.
Suddenly she was no longer hungry and had lost her desire to shop. Deciding to call Rich, Didi pulled the cell phone out of her handbag. The cell phone was defective, with the number seven missing because little Reenie had eaten it on one of their weekend trips to Lake Texoma. It was time to get a new one.
What was odd about that man aside from his open smile? He acted as if he knew her, but that wasn’t what was odd. Something else. She wanted to cross herself. What’s the matter with you, Didi? she whispered, intently studying the plush Tasmanian Devils. Why are you being so uncharitable? He was just trying to help.
Her husband wasn’t picking up. What else was new? His message machine answered. ‘It’s just me,’ Didi said after the beep. ‘Calling from the mall, hoping I could meet you a little earlier.’ She paused and thought about turning around. ‘It’s okay. I’ll see you at one, I guess. Bye.’
She picked out a couple of T-shirts for her girls and turned to walk to the cash register. She saw him immediately. He was near the Tweety Bird clocks. He appeared to have forgotten her completely.
At the register, Didi took out cash to speed the transaction.
‘Linda, look!’ the salesgirl exclaimed to another salesgirl. Then to Didi, ‘Wow, you’re really pregnant.’
‘Yeah,’ said Didi, smiling as kindly as she could. ‘I’m also in a real hurry, so…’ She slid two twenties across the counter, but the money didn’t impress the salesgirls.
‘When are you due?’ Linda asked, looking warmly at her.
‘Just a few weeks,’ Didi said, chewing her lip. The salesgirl scanned the T-shirt tags with near-deliberate slowness. Didi thought of walking out, but she didn’t want the man to think she was nervous or in a hurry. She wanted him to think she had forgotten him completely, too.
‘Do you know what you’re having?’ asked Linda.
‘No, I have no idea,’ said Didi.
‘Don’t want to know?’
‘No, not really.’ Didi started tapping her fingernails on the counter. The nails were short, and the tapping wasn’t satisfying.
‘Oh, I’d want to know,’ Linda said.
Didi pushed the twenties so far to the edge of the counter that they fell to the floor. The salesgirl said, ‘Oh, look – your money.’ And for some reason she found the falling cash amusing and laughed. Linda chuckled with her. Didi tried to smile.
Suddenly, Didi sensed someone standing behind her and felt afraid.
She willed herself to turn around. An elderly gray-haired man in a suit nodded politely to her. The man in the jacket was still near Tweety Bird. Didi felt both relieved and silly.
Linda moved to help the elderly man, while Didi’s salesgirl looked for a bag for the T-shirts. ‘The total came to twenty-eight seventeen,’ she said cheerfully. ‘Did you only give me a twenty?’
‘I’m sorry,’ Didi said. ‘Two twenties fell on the floor. Listen, if it’s too much trouble –’
‘No, no, of course, two twenties.’ The girl bent down, picking up the money. She keyed forty dollars into the register. ‘Your change is eleven eighty-three,’ she said, taking the money out of the drawer. ‘That’s twenty-nine –’ giving Didi the change, and then counting the paper money – ‘thirty, and two fives makes forty.’
Didi could not help snatching the money. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘Have a nice day.’
‘Yeah, you too,’ said the girl, and yelled after her, ‘Good luck with the labor and everything!’
Didi cringed.
After she walked out of Warner Bros, she wasn’t sure what to do next. She glanced back. He wasn’t there anymore.
Should she go to her car? Yes, yes, she should. No, wait. She wanted to make a quick stop at Victoria’s Secret.
She looked over her shoulder to see if he was following her. This is ridiculous, Didi thought. He seemed a perfectly nice man.
A few days earlier she and her girlfriend Penny had been at the Collin Creek Mall when a man who looked a little like this one offered to take Didi’s bags to the car. He didn’t even offer. He just picked up the bags and carried them, saying, ‘Let me help you with these.’ Didi thanked him, got in the car, and went to the movies with Penny. It had been raining, and Penny commented what a nice man he had been to help them.
Didi felt better with this recollection as she walked into Victoria’s Secret.
‘Hi, can I help you?’ An attractive thin girl walked toward her. Didi always noticed the thinness of other women when she was pregnant. Especially in a place like this. It made her feel self-conscious to ask for a negligee or underwear in extra large. The girls always went to the back of the store for that. Sometimes they loudly delegated the task to someone else. ‘Janice, can you go and check if we have an extra large in the red satin underwear, please?’
Glad to see there was no one in the store this afternoon, Didi asked for something silky and sexy for the hospital.
‘I have just the thing for you,’ said the salesgirl. ‘When are you due?’
‘Monday,’ said Didi.
‘As in today, Monday?’ The girl’s eyes opened wide.
‘Maybe not today,’ Didi said pleasantly. ‘But I’m hoping to have my baby on a Monday.’
‘Is Monday your lucky day or something?’
Nodding, Didi said, ‘It is my lucky day, I guess. I was born on a Monday. My second daughter was born on a Monday, and it was a pretty easy delivery, so that was lucky. Much easier than the first, which was on a Saturday.’
‘Maybe the easy labor was because she was second and all,’ the salesgirl said.
‘You’re right,’ said Didi. ‘But it’s still my lucky day.’
‘Well, let’s pray it’s not today,’ said the salesgirl. ‘Let me show you what I’ve got for you.’ She had pretty red hair. Didi wondered if it was her natural color. Didi was proud of the fact that she had never colored or highlighted her own brown hair. She also didn’t wear much makeup, though she bought plenty. Didi thought of herself as a person comfortable in her own skin. The salesgirl must have seen Didi looking at her hair, because she smiled and, touching it, said, ‘Best color money can buy. Do you like it?’
Smiling and secretly pleased, Didi said, ‘Love it. It looks very natural.’
‘I like yours,’ the salesgirl said. ‘Tell me, is it difficult keeping it that long in this heat and with being pregnant and all?’
Touching her hair, Didi replied, ‘It’s not too bad. It’s naturally straight, so I don’t do much to it. But I can never cut it. My husband loves it long.’
The girl found Didi a burgundy silk robe with a matching negligee, panties, and bra. The ensemble looked great on Didi, although the negligee was too small. It was the largest size in stock, and Didi had to hope that the Belly would not stay enormous forever.
‘I’ll take it,’ she said, walking out of the fitting room. From inside the store, she peered into the mall. Her heart beat faster when she thought she saw the back of the man. The person sitting on the bench was obscured by tall, leafy corn plants; it was hard to tell if it was he. She turned to the cash register.
‘I’m sorry. What did you ask?’ Didi said absentmindedly.
‘Do you know what you’re having?’
Didi smiled. ‘We’re hoping for a boy,’ she confessed. ‘But we don’t know.’
‘Hey, you got a fifty-fifty chance, right?’
‘Not according to my husband,’ said Didi easily. ‘He’s been wearing his red socks for weeks. He thinks that improves our chances to seventy-five-twenty-five.’
‘Red socks?’ The salesgirl looked at her as if Didi were crazy.
‘Hey, I’m not the crazy one,’ said Didi. ‘The same ones he wears when the Cowboys play. They won the Super Bowl once when he was wearing red socks and now he wears them every Sunday. I don’t think he’s ever let me wash them since then.’
‘Oh, dear,’ said the salesgirl, handing her a receipt to sign. ‘I hope you don’t sit next to your husband on Sundays.’
‘I’m a football widow,’ said Didi, but it wasn’t true. It just sounded funny, though she wished she hadn’t said it. She loved football. She and Rich watched the games together when they could. It was true about the red socks. Rich believed in the socks even when the Cowboys lost. ‘Think how much they’d lose by if I wasn’t wearing them,’ he’d say when Didi called the socks’ dubious charm into question. Didi had no response to Rich’s perverse logic.
‘Good luck,’ said the salesgirl, tossing her red hair. ‘I hope you have your boy, and I hope your labor will be easy.’
‘Thanks.’ Didi smiled. ‘Have a nice day.’
‘Hey, and stay inside,’ the girl called after her. ‘It’s brutal out there.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Didi said.
She walked out of the store and looked at her watch. Five to one. It was time to meet Rich. With luck she’d be only ten minutes late, but probably more like fifteen. She looked up and down the mall. Just a few shoppers. God forgive me, is everyone this paranoid at near term? Didi thought. Wait till I tell Richie.
Laden with bags, she walked back to Dillard’s, made a left at the Freshens stand and then a right, and walked out the mall doors. Outside was unbearable. The sun whipped her with heat. After taking a dozen steps, Didi was light-headed. She hoped she could make it to the car and not faint.
Putting her bags down on the concrete, she looked around, wondering where her Town & Country was parked. Slowly she took the pretzel bag out of one of the larger shopping bags, reached into it, and broke off a piece of a pretzel. She chewed and swallowed it. Looking at her watch, she saw it was already ten past one and tried to hurry. She picked up three bags with one hand, three bags with the other, and with her purse on her shoulder and the pretzel bag between her fingers headed up one aisle, swaying from side to side. Did she have to get those wooden blocks at FAO Schwarz? She struggled with the bags, setting them down again and wiping her forehead, wishing her hair were up in a bun.
Didi walked a few more feet but couldn’t see the minivan anywhere. She put her bags down, sighed as loudly as possible to make herself feel better, and rummaged through her purse. She found her key chain and hit the alarm button to get her car to make its noise, but the alarm did not go off. Instead she heard the dull click of a door lock opening, and looked to her right to see her white van. She had pressed the wrong button. Thank God.
Relieved, Didi dropped the keys back in her purse and bent down to pick up her bags.
A voice behind her said, ‘You know, you really shouldn’t be carrying those heavy bags. It’s bad for the baby.’
12.58 PM (#ulink_93107d2a-0e06-5b9e-a553-4393f84f6fd0)
Richard Wood parked his Pontiac Bonneville in the Laredo Grill lot and looked for Didi’s minivan. It wasn’t there yet. He glanced at his watch and saw it was a little before one and he was early. That was okay. He sat in the car and listened to a Bad Company CD. Didi said Rich was forever stuck in the seventies, but he took that as a compliment.
The clock in the car read 1.17 when he decided to look for her inside the restaurant. Maybe she’d parked elsewhere. He hurried. He should have remembered that Didi sometimes parked in the adjacent Olive Garden lot to be a bit closer to the exit ramp for the highway home.
1.20 PM (#ulink_a5733c47-1a96-5f55-8469-8e0c476ed6f3)
Didi wanted to speak but found she was made speechless by her heart ramming itself against her chest. She didn’t need to turn around. She recognized his voice. It was the man in the jacket. She felt slightly nauseated.
‘Did you hear me, ma’am?’ the voice said. ‘You shouldn’t be carrying those heavy bags. It’s not good for the baby.’
Didi turned around.
The man was standing in front of her, hands in his jacket pockets. The heat index was up to 120 and he was wearing a jacket over his white shirt. The incongruity of the jacket hadn’t registered in the cool mall, but now it seemed distinctly out of place.
She stared directly at him without averting her gaze. His upturned nose made him look petulant, as if he’d been waiting for a bus too long. His mouth was upturned too, in a semblance of a smile. It looked as if he was grimacing, stretching his thin lips upward, toward eyes that weren’t smiling. They were blue and they were cold, and she saw that they lacked something essential. The expression in the eyes, like the jacket, did not belong in a mall parking lot on a hot summer day.
Didi held on to her bags as she and the man stared at each other. She tried to focus, but all she saw was dark spots instead of his face. Wait, wait, she said to herself, narrowing her mental vision. Think! It’s not so bad. Maybe he is really concerned about the bags. Remember? He said the same thing to me in the mall.
Though now there was an edge to his tone, as if he were judging her. Didi knew the tone of judgment well enough. When her mother-in-law, bless her, would visit, she’d look at Didi and say, ‘You’re not eating enough, Didi.’ It was the same tone, but Barbara was her husband’s mother, and this man was a complete stranger who had followed her out of the mall.
Wait a second. Who said he’d followed her? Maybe he hadn’t followed her. Maybe his own car was parked here and he was on his way home.
Didi had been silent too long. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry and her heart was beating too fast.
‘You don’t need to help me. My car is right…’ She stopped, already regretting what she had been about to say. Take it back, fool, take it back. Why would she want him to know they were in front of her car?
The man said, ‘What I’d like to do is help you to my car.’
Didi lost her breath and opened her mouth.
‘I’d rather not do that,’ she said, her voice breaking. ‘I’m meeting my husband for lunch.’ Her knees began to shake. To steady herself, she leaned against the minivan.
The man stretched his lips sideways, exposing his teeth. ‘I think he’ll be eating alone today,’ he said.
Didi hurriedly scanned the parking lot for a mother with a baby, an elderly couple, a man buying a present for his wife. Why was it that when she needed to adjust her underwear or scratch her inner thigh, the parking lot was teeming with people, but now when she needed someone more than ever, there was no one? Why was that?
Dumb luck.
No, it was karma, she thought, harking back to the fight she’d had with Richie yesterday. That’s why.
Is this my karma? she thought. This young man in front of me, menacing me with his vagueness and his eyes?
She started to speak, but he interrupted her.
‘Shh,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry. I just want us to go for a little ride.’
Shaking her head, Didi said, ‘I can’t.’
‘Yes, you can,’ he said. ‘Please.’ And then added, ‘I have to insist.’
He stood very close to her between the cars. He was invading her personal space, and Didi’s knees would not stop shaking. She glanced this way and that. Please, someone just come walking, get out of a car, something, somebody see us. Please.
1.25 PM (#ulink_673b4140-8a8b-596f-8071-61bf9ee04726)
Didi wasn’t in the restaurant.
Rich thought there was nothing more pathetic than a man waiting for his late wife. Embarrassed, he straightened his tie and smiled politely at the hostess.
Finally he called the office for his messages and listened to one from Didi at 12.30 PM, asking him if he could meet her a little earlier. There was something in her voice that he didn’t like and didn’t understand. There was an edge to it, and the pitch was higher than normal.
It was also an unusual call. Rich and Didi had been together for ten years. In that decade, Rich Wood had never known Didi to call from the mall and ask to meet him early.
Late, yes.
Honey, I’ll be a few minutes late.
Honey, I’m stuck in line.
Honey, there is just one more stop I have to make.
Yes, yes, yes.
But honey, can you meet me early?
If she was at the Laredo Grill, then he could tease her about it.
But she wasn’t there.
Rich knew there were many diversions between the mall and the restaurant. She could have stopped at the bookstore or the music store. Or the Container Store.
He waited awhile longer before calling his office again. There was nothing new from her after 12.30 PM. If she had stopped off somewhere, she would have called. Didi usually was considerate about being habitually late.
At one-thirty, he glanced at his watch as a little worm of worry ate away at the empty stomach where hunger had been.
Thirty minutes was too long to be stuck in any line.
He dialed the number to her cellular phone. It rang the requisite seven times before an annoying male voice answered and told Rich that the cellular customer he had called was unavailable.
Rich wondered if Didi was getting back at him for the fight they’d had yesterday, to prove to him that all it would take was for her to be a little late and he would be concerned. Maybe this is payback time, Rich thought irritably, looking at his watch every thirty seconds or so.
Rich felt his throat constrict. It wasn’t fair of her to be so late. She was exceedingly pregnant. Didi must know that Rich would immediately think she had gone into labor. Or had an accident.
He called his answering service for the third time and listened to her twelve-thirty message. ‘It’s just me,’ Didi said. ‘Calling from the mall, hoping I could meet you a little earlier.’ Pause. ‘It’s okay. I’ll see you at one, I guess. Bye.’
He listened to it again, trying to read into the pause.
What was that in her voice?
1.30 PM (#ulink_e29322dc-31f0-5deb-87ae-17ade7481c51)
Sweat ran down Didi’s cheeks. She hoped it was sweat and not tears. She didn’t want to cry in front of this man. ‘Listen,’ she whispered. ‘Please.’
He reached out and wiped her face. He wiped the tears off her face. ‘Just come for a ride with me,’ he said.
Where were her keys? Where were they? Where had she dropped them, ah, goddammit, in her purse! How would that work, anyway? Excuse me while I fish for my keys, let me rummage through my bag while you wait, just hang on a sec.
And what would she do with them? Hitting the panic button was a joke. It was the joke of parking lots, of streets, of urban living. Nothing was ignored with quite the same intensity as a piercing car alarm. What do we all think? We think, when is someone going to find his keys and turn that stupid thing off?
Still, she wished she could have her keys handy. Hit the alarm, startle him, get in her car, lock the doors, drive away.
She leaned against the car, not moving, panting, trying to steady her knees.
He moved closer to her and pushed her slightly with his body. ‘Come on. It’ll be all right. I’m parked just over there.’
Didi knew that in her condition she couldn’t walk anywhere, she’d just fall down.
‘Okay,’ she said, sniffling. ‘Can you carry my bags?’ She thrust all the bags at him, except for her purse, and looked behind him, searching for other people in the parking lot. Didi cursed the day minivans became so popular. He and she were sandwiched in the three-foot space between her minivan and a small truck. Behind her was another minivan, and she could not see out. Worse, no one could see in. ‘Could you carry my bags?’ Didi repeated, trying to sound calm. She just wanted a second to reach into her purse.
He chuckled. ‘No, I don’t think that would be a good idea. But it’s nice of you to ask me.’
Moving off the car to stand on her own, Didi tried again. ‘You did say I shouldn’t be carrying them. Could you help me out? They’re really heavy.’
He continued to smile peaceably. ‘Well, whose fault is that, now, ma’am? Is that my fault? Did I spend a half hour at Dillard’s buying makeup? Did I go to FAO Schwarz and come back out with another bag? Did I go to Coach? To Warner Bros? To Victoria’s Secret? No, I didn’t. I didn’t buy anything. I’m not carrying anything. But you didn’t seem to care then about carrying all these bags and hurting your baby. It’s your fault they’re heavy. Now come on. We’re wasting time.’
My God, thought Didi. It was clear he had followed her from her very first stop at NorthPark. For all she knew, he had seen her at the doctor’s.
Why would he follow her? Why would he single her out?
She didn’t want to turn her back to him.
Didi had thought that feeling fear was watching a scary Halloween movie with Rich, and when the teenagers were alone in the room and any second the vampires would appear, Didi would get a pit in her stomach, turn to Rich, and say, ‘I’m not watching this.’
And that’s what Didi wanted to do now. Turn away and say, ‘I’m not watching this.’
‘How’s your wife going to feel about you taking other women for rides in your car?’ Didi said.
She was instantly sorry. His expression lost some of its politeness. She saw him clench and unclench his fist, and his face struggled for control. He quickly regained it, and took her arm. He wasn’t hurting her arm, but he wasn’t letting go of her. Despite her brave tone, Didi thought any minute she was going to get hysterical.
He said coolly, ‘Why don’t we make our first little rule, okay? You leave my wife out of this.’
‘I’m sorry, all right?’ Didi said, in a pathetic low voice. ‘Listen – I’m going to have a baby.’
He let go her arm and said, ‘Don’t worry. I just want to take you for a ride, like I said.’
Didi could do nothing to stop herself from sinking to the ground. She was shaking her head and saying, ‘I’m not watching, I’m not watching.’
‘What are you doing?’ he said, pulling her by her arm. Didi dropped to the ground between the cars.
‘What are you doing?’ He yanked her again, careful not to raise his voice. Clearing his throat, he said huskily, ‘Could you get up, please, ma’am?’
‘I can’t.’ She panted. ‘I can’t stand. Just leave me alone. I won’t tell anyone. Just leave me alone. My belly hurts. My husband is waiting for me. Just leave me alone.’
‘Get up, I said.’
If Didi could have gotten up, she would have. But she couldn’t move. She was still clutching the shopping bags. Letting go, she fumbled to get to her purse. Keys, keys, keys.
‘I said, get up!’ he said, bending down over her.
Didi opened her mouth to scream but didn’t have the breath. It was as if she had just run a mile at full speed and was gasping for air. She bit her lip shut trying to breathe through her nose.
‘Get up!’
She shook her head slowly.
No one could see them. Didi was still on the ground. Feeling herself about to cry, she covered her face with the white pretzel bag. She didn’t want him to see her weakness. Then she tasted something salty in her mouth. There was blood from her bitten lip.
Knocking the pretzel bag out of her hands, the man grabbed her under her arms and lifted her to her feet. Didi had a second to feel his strength. This late in her pregnancy, even her husband had trouble helping her off the couch or up from the bed. If she was on the floor, forget it. Rich would need a car jack.
Didi’s legs weren’t making it easy for him, yet he yanked her up as if she were a stubborn weed. As soon as she got to her feet, she started to sink down again.
‘Let’s go,’ he snapped, shoving her lightly with his body. ‘Come on now. You may be pregnant, but you’re not crippled. Not five minutes ago you were breezing through the mall, not a care in the world, bags and all. You can go ten feet now, can’t you?’ Staring at her, he said, ‘What did you do to yourself? Look.’ He wiped her mouth with his hand and showed her the blood. ‘Say something.’
Didi tried to talk, but the words wouldn’t come. Fear for her life, fear for her baby, fear for her family – all the fear in the world was in her mouth, and her mouth was bloody and mute. She felt as if her throat were filling with cement. Nothing was moving except her tongue, which labored to help her breathe. She felt nearly paralyzed when she thought of leaving what she perceived as the safety of her own car. She was at her unlocked door. If only she’d hit the panic button instead of the unlock. Maybe it would have scared him off. Maybe it would have. Is that what it all came down to? Hitting the wrong damn button on her key ring?
He shoved her again. Didi moved. She took a few tentative steps and walked out into the main row. A car drove by.
Suddenly hope sprang up inside her. Between cars she had no chance, but here in the open, maybe someone would see her. Maybe someone would see her running –
Running? Who was she kidding? Hadn’t she just sunk to the ground faster than an anchor into water? She couldn’t run, hadn’t run in months. With the baby’s head between her legs, pressing down on the blood vessels in her pelvis, she had to take stairs one at a time. She couldn’t even pretend-run after her girls.
My girls. Didi gasped and dropped the bags.
‘Could you pick those up, please, ma’am?’ he asked.
‘I can’t,’ Didi panted. ‘They’re too heavy for me.’ She wanted to leave a trace of herself behind.
‘Pick them up, please,’ he said.
Shaking her head, Didi said, ‘I can’t. Let’s just leave them.’
Bending his head to look at her sideways, he said, ‘Now, you know that we can’t leave your bags in the middle of the parking lot.’
‘Forget it,’ she said, pretending not to understand him. She was trying to fight the fear that was pulling her down to the ground again. What could he do in the middle of a sunny parking lot, a hundred feet away from Central Expressway, in broad daylight?
She didn’t think he’d do much, and that gave her a little bit of courage. She thought, he seems pretty calm. He is being reasonable, therefore he can’t be crazy.
Bravely, Didi repeated, ‘Forget it. I don’t want them. Really. If you can’t carry them, just leave them.’
‘Oh, shit,’ he mumbled under his breath. He grabbed all the bags off the ground with his left hand, keeping his right hand on her. ‘I’ll take your bags. Happy now? Come on, let’s try to walk a little faster.’
The man hurried, but she dragged her feet. ‘It’s only a little further. Then you can sit down,’ he said kindly.
But Didi wouldn’t hurry. She wanted to walk, to crawl, slower and slower, until she stopped and sat down, and had a drink and maybe some food, and stopped hyperventilating, and had her baby and woke up from a bad dream.
She promised herself she would never go to NorthPark again. Or any mall again without her husband, without a friend, or without a gun. A whole lot of good a gun would have done her here. Excuse me for a second while I ransack through my handbag so I can shoot you.
How long had it been? How was it possible that in the minutes since he had approached her, Didi had not seen anyone in the parking lot? Where was everybody?
She nearly yelped with joy and hope when she saw two women in the next row getting out of a car.
Didi didn’t know if any sound would come out when she opened her mouth, but the terror that had made her weaker a minute ago when she saw no way out made her stronger now when she saw a chance for escape.
‘Help! Help me!’ she screamed, moving away from the man. He was fast. He dug his fingers into her arm.
Didi flung her free arm and hit him across the face. ‘Help!’ she screamed. ‘He’s –’
The women turned and looked at them.
And then he let go of her arm for a split second, just long enough to grab her around the neck, pull her to him, and kiss her hard on the mouth.
He pressed his lips to hers, blowing air into her throat and sticking his tongue into her mouth. All the while he never stopped walking. She tried to pull away from his face, but he was too strong. He held her painfully tight around the neck. If he were her lover, she could have said, stop, you’re hurting me.
But he wasn’t her lover.
She saw the women smile to each other, nod, and keep on walking.
He removed himself from her mouth, and when he did, she screamed once more. He pulled her to him again and pressed his lips on hers, but this time he bit her lip and clamped it between his teeth. ‘Stop it,’ he said to her through his teeth. ‘Keep walking.’
Whimpering into his mouth, she ran in little steps alongside him.
Then he pulled away from her, and Didi whirled around to look for the two women. It was no use, because they were already inside the mall. The man stopped walking when they reached a beat-up beige station wagon. Clasping his right hand over her mouth, he dropped her bags and fumbled for the keys in his pocket. He opened the passenger door and sat her down in his car.
Didi screamed, for she had nothing to lose. Whatever his intentions were, Didi was certain they did not involve his giving her a lift to the Laredo Grill. Her day went gray, and she began to scream again, but no one could hear her.
He got in and started the car. ‘You know,’ he said, ‘you should really stop that.’
They were racing through the NorthPark parking lot. The old car stank. Didi wondered for a moment if the stench came from her. Had she lost control of her bowels?
But no. It was an old, bad odor. The car smelled of sour, rotted food. She looked over at him.
He held the wheel tightly with both hands.
She wanted to say something to him. But what? What? To save herself, she would have said anything.
‘What’s your name?’ she asked in her friendliest voice. Is that the best I can come up with? she thought. What’s your name? What am I, a teenager at the school lockers?
He didn’t answer her.
Please show me the way, dear God, please show me the way out, for my kids, please hear my prayer.
I guess it’s really happening, she thought, starting to rock back and forth, it’s happening. This man, he – I – I’ve been abducted. I’ve been snatched, stolen. He acts polite and tries to smile, but he’s kidnapped me. How’s Rich ever going to find me? And what could he want? Money? Of course, that must be it. He wants money. That’s what all kidnappers want. He doesn’t care about me. He saw me shopping at NorthPark and probably thought I was loaded.
What would it do to tell him the truth? she thought. And what happens to me when he finds out the truth?
Clasping her hands together, Didi tried to think of something comforting, but all that flashed through her was, Am I going to die? Right here, in this man’s car, this stinking car, die with a stranger? Is this how my life is going to end –
My baby.
Why was she thinking about death, about stinky cars? She couldn’t die, because if she did, her baby would too, and her baby could not die.
That was impossible.
The baby is counting on me not to let him die. That’s my job as his mother – to keep him and save him from harm. What kind of mother would I be if I died on him? A bad kind, that’s what kind. Gently, she stroked her belly.
Didi shuddered when she remembered the fight she had had with Richie yesterday. Poor Rich – he’ll be thinking I didn’t show up because I’m still mad at him. That stupid fight. It was just about this very thing – about harm coming to me and the baby. Rich got so mad he yelled at me that nothing was going to happen to the baby. He was angry at me for bringing bad thoughts into our house.
Didi herself had felt silly for fearing the worst.
Yesterday the worst had been some nebulous grief. She feared the baby might have two hearts, two brains, or not enough heart, not enough brain.
Today – well, she couldn’t confront it.
Didi’s hands were unsteady. Rubbing her belly gently, she looked out the side window.
She thought, is God punishing me? I haven’t been penitent. I don’t say my prayers and there are some Sundays I don’t go to church and there are some I go and don’t want to. Who said Christianity was easy? It’s not like drinking water, accepting God into your heart. I’ve been remiss. And so have my children, and so has my husband. We watch TV, we make love, we don’t pray. We fight, we curse. I’ve been feeling cocky and now God is about to show me who’s boss.
They went through a stop sign. Keep that up, Didi thought, and a nice police officer will soon be stopping you himself. At the next stop sign the man slowed down and pretended to stop. Didi looked at the door handle. The car must have slowed to twenty, maybe ten miles an hour. All she had to do was open the door and fall out. She lifted her trembling hand off her lap and reached for the handle.
And stopped.
The baby. When Didi fell out, would she fall on her belly? Would the shock of hitting the ground burst her water, would it snap the umbilical cord? Would it break her baby’s neck or crush its soft head?
She glanced over at the man. He looked tranquil. Would she be able to crawl away fast enough from him? Or would he stop, slam the car into reverse, and roll over her, killing her and the baby? And then calmly drive away never to be found, never to be seen again.
Didi knew one thing with absolute certainty: if she died, her baby had no chance. She closed her eyes briefly. Baby Evelyn or baby Adam, anything your mom can do, she will do, God help her.
1.45 PM (#ulink_b07c91a6-774c-5aa8-b062-20b477da986b)
Rich called their hospital’s labor and delivery ward to see if a Didi Wood had been admitted and was told no.
Finally he left the Laredo Grill. What mall had she been in? Was it Collin Creek right across the road, or the Galleria, or Valley View? NorthPark? She could have been calling from anywhere. She had had a doctor’s appointment at eleven, so perhaps she was at Collin Creek, which was the closest to the doctor and to the Laredo Grill. Rich wished he’d gone with her to the doctor’s as he usually did.
He called the doctor’s office. The receptionist told him Didi had left at eleven-thirty after her routine weekly checkup. Then the doctor came on the phone and told Rich that Didi had dilated another centimeter to about two, normal for this stage in the pregnancy. Rich asked if Didi had mentioned where she might be heading. The doctor replied that Didi had said she might do a little shopping, but hadn’t said where. Rich hung up.
Instead of going back to work, he drove to the Collin Creek Mall. His Didi was nothing if not a creature of habit, and whenever they went to the mall – any mall – Didi always parked near Dillard’s. He drove up and down the rows of cars, looking for their new white Town & Country – the Cadillac of all minivans, as the pamphlets had said.
He thought he’d seen the van several times, but he was wrong.
Remembering he had a meeting with marketing at three, Rich called his office manager and said he was tied up and couldn’t make it in. She sounded nervous on the phone, and said, ‘But Rich, your meeting.’ And he said to her, ‘But Donna, my wife.’ And hung up without an explanation.
Then he called home. Maybe she wasn’t feeling well and had gone home to lie down. Totally unlike Didi, but maybe.
No one answered. The babysitter must be picking Amanda up from school. Rich left a message for Didi to call him as soon as possible at the office. What could he do? He had to believe that Didi was still upset about the fight last night. It was the only explanation.
But he didn’t believe that. It wasn’t like Didi to pay him back for anything. Even when they fought, she still made him dinner, still went to sleep with him, and she never stood him up if they made plans to meet. Never.
Unprecedented events worried Rich. He remembered his dad, back in Chicago, every day for twenty-five years coming home from work on the 5.54 PM train. The train was sometimes late, but Richard Wood Sr never missed that train – well, almost never. The day he missed the 5.54 was the day he died.
1.45 PM (#ulink_8a9132e2-3e68-529e-a6e3-2f58941121c0)
Didi racked her brain to find something to say to stop the man, stop him before he drove his car out of the parking lot. Hope was a caged bird, and it was caged outside the NorthPark Mall. Once they were out of the lot and on Dallas streets or on the open road, the little bird called hope would flee this man’s car. Didi had to try something now, while there was still a chance. Her mouth was dry and her heart was beating fast as she took a deep breath.
‘Listen,’ Didi said. ‘We’re not rich people, but –’ She wanted to cry but wouldn’t let herself. ‘Call my husband. I’m sure he’ll give you money –’
His soft laugh interrupted her.
So he was listening. Her words were getting through. Heartened, Didi went on.
‘I just want to say, I mean, if you –’ She choked up. ‘If you let me out now, I’ll walk back to my car and I’ll never mention this to anybody. We’ll never see each other again, but, please, couldn’t you just…just let me go?’ Didi’s legs felt clammy. Trying to ease the tension, she rubbed the Belly.
‘Tell me, won’t you be sad for us to part and never see each other again?’ he asked.
What is he talking about? thought Didi. It doesn’t make sense. Maybe he’s made a mistake. Maybe he’s mistaken me for someone else. He acts as if he knows me. A crazy mistake but a mistake. He must think I’m someone who lives in Starwood or in Highland Park. I’m not, I’m not, she wanted to say.
‘I’m sorry, do you know who I am?’
‘Yes,’ the man said. ‘Fate has brought you to me.’
Didi felt sick.
Shaking her head, Didi said tearfully, ‘What does fate have to do with it?’
‘Why, everything,’ he said.
‘But my husband is waiting for me,’ Didi said. ‘If I don’t come soon, he’s going to get very worried. I know he’ll call the police –’
‘We’ll be far away then, ma’am,’ he said.
Didi’s heart expanded. It felt as if it were going to explode out of her chest. She put her hand over her mouth to stop herself from making a wailing sound.
So he seemed to have plans for them. He was moving along, traveling somewhere, and she was hurtling with him. By the time Rich was aware she was missing, they’d be far away. Sweet Jesus, what did that mean?
‘He’ll get worried right away. I’m never late,’ Didi said. ‘And if I am, I always call.’
‘You’re not near a phone,’ he said.
Didi almost mentioned her cell phone, but stopped herself. So the man hadn’t seen her call Rich at the Warner Bros store. She didn’t want to alert him. Rich would definitely call her. Maybe there was a way to trace the cell phone to where she was. Maybe the phone had some kind of a Didi-homing device. The police could call the number and locate Didi. She kept quiet for a moment while sadness swept through her unsettled stomach.
‘I just want to say,’ she tried again, ‘if it’s money you want, I’m sure we can come up with something –’
He laughed softly again.
‘Or,’ Didi tried, encouraged by his smiling. ‘You could let me out.’ She looked at him with hope. ‘There’s no harm done –’
‘There is already.’
‘No, not really,’ she said quickly, wanting to wipe her mouth. ‘I think you’ve made a mistake. You must think I’m rich, but I’m not really –’
‘I don’t think that, ma’am,’ he said.
She pressed on, ‘But if you continue, then you know, this will be a…a…’ She couldn’t get the awful word out.
‘Kidnapping?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘All you have to do is let me out right here. Please,’ she added. ‘Stop and think, think. Don’t you know that kidnapping is a capital crime? In Texas, I think you get life for it.’
‘They’d have to catch me first,’ the man said.
‘But they always catch the –’ Didi wanted to say the bad guy.
‘Not always,’ he said. ‘Let them try to find us.’
Didi stared at him, wanting to argue. Not catch the bad guy? That wasn’t possible. They always caught the bad guy.
Didn’t they?
‘What you’re doing,’ she said, ‘It’s –’
‘Yes, I know,’ he interrupted, smiling coolly. ‘I’d better take care not to get caught then, hadn’t I?’
Didi stopped looking at his upturned nose and faced the road. Her mind was frenzied. She tried to make her body outwardly still, but her legs from the knees down were uncontrollable.
Didi saw he was headed toward US 75.
As if reading her mind, the man said, ‘Hang on, baby. There is no looking back. Nice try, though. But we’re in it for the long haul. For the whole haul,’ he said in his nasal drawl.
Didi put her arms around herself and stared ahead. Fear was invading her lungs from the malodorous car every time she inhaled. They made a right onto the expressway service road, and in a few seconds were on Central Expressway at seventy miles an hour, heading in the direction of downtown Dallas.
‘Please,’ she whispered.
‘I’m not even going to speed,’ the man said. ‘I’m going to take it nice and easy.’
He was a man of his word, though Didi didn’t think he’d meant to go quite this slowly. They were stuck in traffic. What had been a three-lane highway was now a single lane. The diamond orange signs warned of no quick resolutions to the traffic jam.
SLOW MEN WORKING
Didi’s cool driver turned red in the face. His hands became jittery. He was past one exit, some indeterminate distance away from the next, and trapped with cars all around him. Pulling the cars in the left lane to the right, the orange cones were lined up alongside his station wagon. Up ahead, the yellow arrow blinked insistently. Move over there, the arrow seemed to say. Now.
The man turned on the radio and began humming to country music. Didi was about to try to engage him in some superficial conversation when suddenly her senses returned to life.
She thought there might be a way out of his car.
They were in the right lane. Next to her side of the car a low concrete divider ran as far as her eyes could take her. The car was stopped. Zero miles per hour. He was drumming his fingers on the wheel and singing softly along to the radio.
At zero miles an hour Didi could easily open the door and get out. However, the station wagon seemed so perilously close to the divider that Didi feared the door might not open. She was alive right now. What if she pulled a stunt like that and he killed her?
She placed her hands on her belly and then on her heart. It was beating too fast. He won’t kill me, Didi thought. I have to believe that. He seems…almost decent.
2.20 PM (#ulink_9a0b5a6e-500f-57c7-b1ee-aa3170a04aa0)
Rich called the office again and told Donna that he was expecting an urgent call from his wife. ‘Has she called?’ he asked. Donna said no and asked if everything was all right. Rich didn’t know how to answer that and didn’t.
Then he called home again. Ingrid had come home with Amanda. No, Ingrid said, she hadn’t heard from Didi. Yes, both kids were home and everything was fine.
‘Daddy, Daddy.’ His five-year-old was on the phone. ‘Are you coming home early for dinner?’
‘I don’t know yet, honey. Maybe.’
‘Where’s Mommy?’ Amanda asked.
‘I’m meeting Mommy for lunch. She’ll see you soon, okay? How was school?’
‘Good,’ said Amanda. ‘Mom has to see how much homework I have. I have to cut and paste a whole dinosaur.’
‘Mommy will be home soon, okay?’
‘Okay. Love you.’ Her conversation finished, Amanda hung up.
Rich smiled, returning the receiver to the headset.
Yet the empty ache inside Rich would not subside. Where was his wife? Where was his ready-to-give-birth wife? He felt ridiculous, standing at a Mobil station on 15th Street in the broiling heat. He was going through the motions of his day without having the motion of a wife.
Realizing he was dying of thirst, he went into the Mobil minimart and bought himself a six-pack of Coke and some bottled water. The drink made him feel marginally better for a few seconds.
Then Rich drove to the Valley View Mall.
Up and down, up and down, up and down the rows of cars. If she was at this mall, he’d find her. And when he found her, lost at the hair salon and having forgotten to call him, he’d yell at her till her hair turned blue.
2.30 PM (#ulink_4ed48bb2-fabd-5357-aefc-2c572fbfcb7c)
Didi and the man sat in the car for ten minutes, moving a few feet a minute. The man seemed increasingly anxious. He kept turning on his right blinker and then turning it off again. Didi suspected he would get off the highway as soon as he could. She thought she heard her phone ringing, but the radio played too loudly to be sure. The phone was buried deep inside her bag. She listened carefully again but heard only the radio. Must have been my imagination, Didi thought.
Now the car wasn’t moving.
It was time.
She grabbed the handle and swung open the door.
Didi had been right. The door was too close to the divider. It opened no more than a foot. The man immediately swerved to the right, scraping the divider and pushing the door shut.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ he yelled, pulling her by the neck away from the door. Didi cried out as he yanked her down on the seat, pressing his hand on her head to keep her down. She struggled to get up and bit his hand. She heard him muttering as he fiercely pressed her into the seat.
The car soon started moving, but in stops and spurts. It turned one way, then another. Didi tried to keep track of the direction, to no avail. She tried to sit up half a dozen times before the man told her to give up.
‘Stay down, please,’ he told her. ‘You’ve caused enough trouble already. Stay down.’
Did I cause trouble? Didi thought, uncomfortably scrunched up below window level on the bench seat. Have the police come? Have we been stopped? Am I with my husband? No, I don’t think I caused much trouble at all.
Her eyes, level with the radio controls, darted past the glove compartment to the floor. She thought she heard the phone ring faintly again, but she couldn’t hear above the country music.
Were they off Central Expressway? Didi thought so; she could see the tops of trees and houses. He must have got off and was driving through the side streets. Where was he taking her?
‘Can I get up?’ she asked.
He said nothing, but lifted his hand from her head, and she took that to mean yes. She got up.
‘So what were you doing back there?’ he asked. ‘What were you thinking?’
When Didi didn’t reply, he said, ‘Look, I don’t blame you. I’m not even mad.’ He smiled as if to prove that. ‘See? But you have to understand, it’s useless.’
She rubbed her head where his hand had been.
‘Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear. You have to behave. We’re going for a little ride, that’s all, but you’re carrying a baby and you have to be careful. Do you understand?’
‘Please let me out,’ Didi said dully. ‘I have a husband…children.’
From the corner of her eye she saw a slight smile. He wasn’t touched. He was just bemused.
Turning down the music, he said, ‘Look, I’d prefer not to argue with you. Don’t get out of my car anymore. I want us to be friendly, but you have to show me I can trust you.’
‘Friendly?’ she repeated, thinking she’d misheard. ‘Yes, of course. Friendly. Sure.’
‘Don’t you think falling out of my car would have hurt the baby?’ he asked.
‘I wasn’t going to fall out of the car,’ said Didi. ‘I won’t do it again, I promise.’
‘Good. Then we won’t have any trouble,’ the man said. ‘Now be a good girl and let me drive,’ he said. ‘We’ve lost over an hour because of the work on Seventy-five.’
‘Where are we headed?’ Didi asked carefully.
‘Mazatlán,’ he said.
Didi said nothing. She didn’t want to know.
‘Mexico,’ the man said.
He told me anyway, Didi thought, shuddering.
Didi again thought she could hear the phone ringing.
Soon she recognized the stark warehouse clubs and tattoo joints that defined Deep Ellum – the funky, loud, slightly dangerous boozing and dining section of downtown Dallas. There were a couple of interstates they could take from there. Interstate 30 to Houston, or Interstate 20 to Shreveport, or Interstate 35 to Waco, Austin, San Antonio, and eventually Mexico.
No one would ever find them – find her – in Mexico. Not Rich, not the police, no one. Mexico was where people went to disappear.
The prospect of disappearing – disappearing with him – dried up Didi’s throat. She licked her lips and realized she had no spit in her mouth. For the first time since the mall she acknowledged to herself that she was thirsty.
Didi was about to ask him if the air-conditioning was on, and then she looked over at the dashboard. There was no air-conditioning. Oh, great, she thought, and for the next silent fifteen minutes, she obsessed about the fact that there was no AC in her kidnapper’s station wagon.
No air-conditioning was an immediate problem. Didi was hot. Her own minivan had a gauge that told her, among other things, the outside temperature. However, his old car was not AC equipped. The dash clock was broken. The vent inside the car was blowing hot air, and the windows were closed.
Didi watched him get on Interstate 35E going south to Waco.
‘We’re going to Waco?’ Didi asked.
‘No,’ he said, his tone losing some of its earlier courtesy. ‘I told you where we’re going. Now don’t ask me again.’
Didi sighed tensely, looking away from him. The road was hypnotic. It usually was so easy when Rich was driving to let her mind go blank and disappear into the road. However, not today. Not when she was this hot, this short of breath, this scared.
Didi reached over to roll down the window, and the man immediately lost his temper, shouting, ‘What are you doing?’
She gasped, stunned by his outburst, and said, ‘I’m hot. I was going to roll the window down.’
‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘No windows. Don’t want you screaming again, do I?’
‘Who’s going to hear me here on the highway?’
‘I said no.’
‘I won’t scream,’ she said. ‘I’m just real hot. I need air.’
‘Yeah, well, you should have thought of that in the mall. Didn’t need air then, did you?’ he said coldly.
What was he talking about? And what’s happening to him? Why did he sound so angry?
‘I’m real hot,’ Didi repeated.
He swirled one of the central vents on her. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘Here’s some air.’
Didi sat back against the brown vinyl seat and closed her eyes. She wiped her sweating head, opened her eyes, and said, ‘Couldn’t we stop for a drink? I’m thirsty.’ She was hoping to bring some of his earlier politeness back.
‘No, we can’t stop for a drink,’ he snapped. ‘What do you think this is? A trip to Disney World? Sit and be quiet. Please,’ he added, composing himself.
Didi had no choice about sitting, but she did shut up. He’s moody, she thought. Is this ma’am and please thing just a facade? God help me if it is.
After a few moments, he said, ‘Look, I’m sorry, but we have to make tracks. I have to concentrate, okay? Don’t want to go too fast, don’t want to go too slow. We’ll stop soon.’
Oddly comforted by his courteous demeanor, Didi nodded and then said, ‘Don’t you want to call my husband?’
‘No!’ His nasal voice was shrill. ‘Why would I want to call him?’
Beads of sweat ran down her cheeks. ‘To ask him for money?’
Shaking his head, he leaned toward her and touched her gently on the arm. ‘You’re so naive. That’s what I like about you.’
Didi wiped her face and then licked her fingers. Ten minutes later, the salt in the sweat made her crazy for a drink, but she didn’t talk.
What was her Rich doing? He must have realized by now she wasn’t coming to the Laredo Grill. Where was he? Was he trying to call? Then she remembered her cell phone. She’d left it on standby at Warner Bros after she called him. Could he have called already and she hadn’t heard? Or was that the phone ringing?
3.25 PM (#ulink_78549fe0-3885-5c6f-ae92-fd44f3b28866)
Rich Wood didn’t find his wife at the Valley View Mall. He didn’t find her at the Galleria Mall, either, though the parking there was more complicated.
Rich knew his wife liked to use valet parking at the Westin Hotel adjacent to the Galleria; Didi loved to just get out of the car and pay four bucks and not worry about parking space. So he drove over to the Westin and asked about Didi’s van at the valet window. The valet, whose name tag read José, asked Rich to describe the van and Didi. Rich did. ‘Oh, jes, Didi, no, she no park here today. She have baby soon?’
José said that the last time he’d seen Didi was four days ago, and he always tried to park her car close for her because when she came out of the mall with the bags, ‘she no like to wait so much.’
The fact that the valet knew his wife by name because she visited the Galleria so often amused Rich. Oh, you Didi. You lead a secret life away from me. While I work, you’re getting to know José. You never told me you were on a first-name basis with the Westin valet.
But he didn’t have a wife to say that to just then. He didn’t even have her van.
Before he left, he dialed her cell phone number again from the pay phone inside the Westin.
3.30 PM (#ulink_d19f644a-77cb-5a2d-ae2d-71d67ac7d433)
The light trill of the cellular phone was unmistakable this time. Didi didn’t move. Glancing over at the man from the corner of her eye, Didi saw he was hypnotized by the road and the radio’s loud music. He wasn’t acknowledging the muffled ringing. She panicked, then became exhilarated.
The phone was buried deep inside her big black carryall on the floor between her and the door. Very, very slowly she reached to her right and in one motion stuck her hand in the bag without moving the rest of her body forward. The phone had rung four times. Keeping her eyes on the road, Didi hunted for the phone inside the bag. Please let me find the damn thing. Her other bag was so small, the phone always lay right on top – on top of her wallet or makeup bag or mail. The cramped bag had been so inconvenient – hence the new one – but now she would give away one of her cats to be able to reach the phone. Six rings. Maybe the man’s hearing was bad, because Didi thought the phone sounded like a church’s noontime bells. Finally, she felt the phone’s smooth leather-covered exterior. Instead of taking the phone out, she flipped it open inside the bag. It stopped ringing. She waited. The man continued to drive, saying nothing. She was silent for a few seconds. And then Didi said, ‘Rich?’
The man came out of his torpor and turned to her.
‘Rich?’ she said again.
‘Who are you talking to? I’m not Rich,’ the man said, looking suspicious and on guard.
‘Well, what is your name?’ she said. ‘You never told me.’ She was hoping Rich could hear her through the muffling effect of the bag.
‘Why are you talking so loud?’ he said. ‘I’m not deaf, you know.’ A pause. ‘And what was that ringing?’ He slammed the radio power off. Didi’s heart stopped. She couldn’t answer.
‘That ringing? What was that?’ He looked over at her. Her hand was in the bag.
‘Was that a phone?’ he screamed. Falling sideways over Didi, he grabbed the bag away from her. The car careened to the right.
Didi heard honking in the distance. She tried to grab the bag, crying weakly, ‘No, no.’ And then louder, ‘Rich! Help me! Help me!’
The man hit her with the bag. He struck her again and again, making guttural sounds and barely keeping the car on the road. Passing cars honked.
Trying to shield herself from the blows, Didi turned away from him toward the door and saw a car in the right lane beside her. The driver, an old woman, was looking over at Didi with great concern. Didi put her hands together as if in a prayer and mouthed help me, help me.
Then the man, having thrown down the bag, yanked her head away from the window and down onto his lap. Didi fell over, hitting her nose on the steering wheel. She saw him floor the gas. Maybe the cops would stop him, Didi thought. Maybe Rich was still on the phone. Encouraged by his phone call, she forgot all caution. She screamed as loudly as she could, ‘Rich, help me, help me!’
And then the man brought his fist down on her ear.
3.31 PM (#ulink_d77e568a-47e0-5931-b8e2-5aba6ac68fb1)
The phone rang six times and then stopped. Rich listened intently and heard nothing, but as he put the receiver back on the hook, he thought he heard a very faint ‘Rich?’
By the time Rich thought he heard Didi’s voice, it was too late. He had already begun hanging up; momentum carried the receiver the rest of the way. The receiver clicked on the hook. ‘Oh, shit,’ he said. Had he really heard her voice calling him? He picked the phone up again and got a dial tone. The first time he redialed the number he did it so fast he dialed only six digits. The second time the line was busy.
Busy again, a minute later.
And a minute later.
And another minute.
He waited five minutes and then called his office, thinking she must have tried to call him back. He hated crossed calls making both numbers busy.
There was nothing.
He called the cell phone again, and the useless message came on: ‘The AT&T customer you have dialed is not available or has traveled outside the coverage area. Please try your call again later.’
He tried to remember what the ‘Rich’ he thought he had heard sounded like. He couldn’t recall. It was muffled and distant. He could have been mistaken. It could have just been a ringing in his ears and not his wife calling his name, whispering it. ‘Rich. Rich.’
He must be imagining things.
Rich drove to the NorthPark Mall. If she wasn’t there, he didn’t know where she could be.
Dillard’s at NorthPark was just off Central Expressway. He found two white Town & Country LXi minivans near Dillard’s, but they weren’t Didi’s.
What was their license plate? TRX something. Or was it THX? No, THX was the sound system he was trying to talk Didi into buying. The license plate was TRX 6 something – or was it 7?
He saw a third Town & Country and slowed down. TJX 672. That was their car. He couldn’t believe it. She was at the mall. He had been wrong about her. She was at the mall and had forgotten all about him.
Rich was first mad, then relieved, then mad again. He parked his car a few spaces away from hers and walked over. He opened the door to look in. The car was as they had left it last night after going out to Applebee’s for dinner. Toys on the floor, newspapers, some shopping bags. Nothing new, nothing he hadn’t seen before. The shopping bags were from last weekend’s shopping expedition. Rich had been with Didi when they bought some clothes from Gap Kids.
He slammed the door shut and locked it. The car beeped once to let him know it was locked.
That’s when Rich saw a white paper bag on the ground and bent down to pick it up. He thought it was something that had fallen out of the minivan when he opened the door, but when he looked inside the bag he saw it had one whole and one half-eaten pretzel in it. He felt the pretzels through the bag. They were soft, and this surprised him. He had expected them to be hard. This bag was not something that had been in the car for two weeks. The bag itself was ripped, with a chunk missing. Rich pulled out a receipt for 2x items at 1.19 ea., bought and paid for with $3.00 at 12.25 PM today.
He turned the bag over a couple of times and noticed brownish stains that could have been chocolate. He smelled them. They didn’t smell like chocolate. They smeared onto his hands. But wait, was Rich going crazy? He put the bag to his face to smell it again.
He doubled over, feeling as if someone had punched him in the stomach.
The bag smelled of his wife’s hand lotion. He knew the smell of her lotion very well. Didi wore it all the time, and the aroma would linger long after Didi had left a room. From Bath and Body Works – Sun-Ripened Raspberry. It smelled berryish and creamy – good enough to eat with a spoon. Rich had watched Didi put it on this morning after her shower and before they made plans for lunch. He had watched her spread it over her arms and legs and neck and remembered thinking how lovely she was with that belly of hers. Grudgingly realizing he wasn’t mad at her anymore, he had asked her to have lunch with him after her doctor’s appointment. Usually he went to the doctor’s with her, but today he was interviewing a candidate for the southwest regional sales manager job all morning and couldn’t make it. Why hadn’t he gone with her?
It was her lotioned hands that had clutched the pretzel bag. Maybe another woman, wearing raspberry lotion on her hands, had bought not one but two of the sweet pretzels his wife loved only five minutes before Didi called him in a sharp voice, asking him to come to lunch early. And then dropped the bag right near their minivan.
Rich didn’t believe in coincidences. This was his Didi’s pretzel bag.
He was sure now it had been her voice he heard calling for him from wherever she was, connecting to him, and he had hung up on her and couldn’t get her back.
Holding the bag in his hands emptied him of all feeling and then filled him with anger. She was at her car when she dropped the bag. She was heading out to meet him when she dropped the bag and vanished.
He grabbed his chest, feeling a nightmarish tightness. ‘God, Didi, Didi,’ he whispered, starting to pant and losing focus in his eyes. What’s happened?
3.40 PM (#ulink_a87500a1-123e-5aae-b1f0-982ada6e194e)
When Didi regained consciousness, she wasn’t lying in the man’s lap, and her face wasn’t squeezed between his abdomen and the steering wheel. She was hunched over on the seat nearly falling onto his shoulder. She realized he must have pulled her up. Her head was throbbing as if her hair were any minute going to be disconnected from her scalp. Squinting, she looked for her bag. He had thrown it down on the passenger floor.
She sat up straight and looked around, rubbing her belly. They were now in the right lane, going sixty-five. No more concerned drivers peering at her through the windows of their cars. Just Texas fields, a few shrubs, some houses off in the distance, a hazy blue post-zenith sky.
Didi moved as far as she could away from him and pressed her body against the passenger door. She wished she could become a liquid and pour herself into the door and disappear. There was obtrusive and persistent ringing in the ear where he had hit her. The radio was playing country music, and the man, cheerful and unperturbed, continued to hum to it.
Didi had to go to the bathroom. The baby’s head was pressing too hard on her shrunken bladder. She had hoped she could just sweat out all the liquid in her body.
‘I feel that we got off on the wrong foot here,’ she heard the man say. She could not believe the words coming out of his mouth. She wanted to say something nasty back, but her teeth felt too large for her mouth and her tongue too unhappy. So she said nothing and waited for him to speak again. Why did her tongue feel so swollen? She rolled it around her mouth. It hurt. Maybe I bit it when he struck me. Parting her lips, she let some air in. Maybe I’m just thirsty.
‘Don’t you think so, too?’ the man said to her.
He’d asked her a question. What was she supposed to say to that? The Belly was locked in a Braxton Hicks. She held on to it for a few seconds and then said, shrugging lightly, hunched over against the door, ‘I guess so.’
‘No, no, we definitely did,’ said the man. ‘And it’s my fault, and I’m sorry for that. We didn’t have time to be properly introduced, and then I was so busy getting us out of Dallas that time just flew. You never even told me your name.’
She opened her mouth to speak. His voice was gentle now, soothing, as if listening to soft country music had relaxed him and made him calm. Had it made him calm enough to stop the car and let her out here in the middle of the highway?
‘When we were in the mall, I was trying to figure out what your name was,’ he said. ‘Did you try to guess what my name was?’
What was he talking about? She needed a drink. A sip or two of water. She was going to lick her wet-with-sweat hand again and then thought better of it.
‘Uh-huh,’ she said, her mouth barely moving. She said it very quietly. ‘Is it John?’
‘No, no.’ He laughed. ‘When I sat and waited for you to be done at Dillard’s, and you did take a long time, you know, I almost left. But anyway, when I sat and looked at your back and hair and legs, I tried to figure out what your name was. Let’s see…Ellen? Sonia? Maybe Jackie?’
He waited for her to answer him.
No, she said, or thought she said.
He nodded. ‘You don’t look like a Melanie, I decided. My wife is a Melanie, and you look nothing like my wife.’
Didi stared at her yellow sundress. She had felt so happy when she put it on this morning.
‘Monica?’ he continued. ‘No, that’s a tall name, and you aren’t tall. Annette? No. That’s a short name, and you aren’t short.’ He glanced at her, a smile widening his lips. ‘You are just right.’
She looked away.
‘You aren’t blond like a Jennifer, or made up like a Jessica. You don’t look smart like a Melissa, or lazy like a Megan. Am I right so far?’
‘You’re right so far,’ Didi said faintly.
He tapped on the steering wheel. ‘I’m having fun here. Right. This is tons better than working at some pathetic little job for a few bucks.’
I knew it. He wants money, thought Didi.
He seemed to be enjoying himself. He was smiling and looked as if he hadn’t a care in the world. The tension was gone, though he still kept both hands conscientiously on the wheel. ‘Hey, want to play a little game? Guess mine and then I’ll guess yours.’ He almost giggled with delight.
‘Listen,’ Didi said. ‘I’d love to play, but do you think we can get a drink somewhere first?’ She thought that stopping would be preferable to being stuck in the car with him. There would be people, she might be able to get away, call for help, anything but sit in the car and sweat.
The man’s smile dimmed a little. ‘What? And have you perform one of your little antics again? You’re dangerous enough in a moving car. No, I’m going to take you to a safe place. Now guess my name.’ He paused. ‘Tell you what.’ The smile returned. ‘If you guess my name in three tries, I’ll stop and get you a drink. Don’t want to dehydrate a pregnant woman, do I?’ His hand reached out to – oh my God, what was he doing? Was he thinking of touching the Belly? Didi was sitting too far away or he reconsidered, because he put his hand back on the wheel. ‘No, no, we certainly don’t. But you have to play a part in quenching your own thirst. Is that fair?’
Is that fair? she thought. Up to one o’clock, the unfairest part of today had been the doctor telling Didi the baby might be too big and they might need to induce labor a little early to make sure there were no complications during delivery. And she remembered thinking to herself, God, it’s unfair, to be penalized for having a big baby.
‘Let’s play,’ said Didi.
3.45 PM (#ulink_b8b08291-cbcf-5c67-88da-802746615bbd)
Rich felt like bashing his head against the nearest car. What’s happened to my wife? he thought, and then screamed. Screamed right in the middle of the Dillard’s parking lot.
‘Didi!’ he shouted, and her name echoed amid the Toyotas and the Hondas and the Fords. ‘DIDI!’
A couple walking by turned to look at him and then lowered their heads and sped up. Rich ran after them.
‘Have you seen my wife?’ he said fervently. ‘My wife, five-seven, brown hair, brown eyes, very pregnant?’
They stared as if everything was not all right with him.
‘Please,’ he said, in a lower, pleading voice. ‘My wife. Very pregnant. Have you seen her?’
The woman took her husband’s arm. ‘No, sorry,’ she said and tried to push past Rich. The man followed, casting a sympathetic look at him. The man understood. But the woman shot him a frightened sneer; she must have thought Rich was crazy.
Clutching the pretzel bag, Rich ran inside the mall, heading straight for the Freshens Yogurt stand. As he ran, he was thinking that perhaps Didi had been walking to the car, dropped the bag by accident, thought of something she’d forgotten to buy, and gone back to the mall. But he knew that made no sense. She went back and didn’t call him? Her phone had been on, her voice whispering ‘Rich,’ when he dialed her number. She could have called him. But she hadn’t called him. She hadn’t got into an accident. The car was in the parking lot. Didi wasn’t calling because she couldn’t call, and the proof was in his hands.
A girl stood behind the Freshens Yogurt counter. She smiled. ‘Can I help you?’
‘I hope so,’ said Rich intensely. ‘I hope so. My wife –’ He stammered. ‘My wife was here earlier today.’ He thrust the bag at her. She moved away. ‘My wife was here and bought these two pretzels.’
‘Walt, hold on, hold on, sir,’ said the girl. ‘I just came on. I don’t know anything.’
‘Who worked before you?’
‘Alex. He just left.’ Rich’s face must have implied urgency, because she said, ‘Wait, maybe he’s still in the back changing. Hold on.’
She came back a few minutes later with Alex.
‘It’s your lucky day,’ said Alex.
‘Somehow I doubt it,’ said Rich. ‘Unless you want to redefine the nature of my luck.’ He thrust the bag with the receipt and the pretzels at Alex. ‘My wife was here earlier. She bought these here.’
Glancing at the receipt, Alex said, almost defensively, ‘Is something wrong with them?’
‘No, but something could be wrong with my wife,’ said Rich. ‘She’s disappeared.’
Alex smirked a little. ‘Do you think it had something to do with the pretzels?’
The counter rattled when Rich slammed down his fist. ‘You think that’s funny? Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear. Let me explain. My wife, nine months pregnant, was here earlier today shopping. At twelve twenty-five she bought these from you. At twelve-thirty she called me and asked if she could meet me for lunch earlier than planned. At one o’clock she didn’t show up, and no one’s heard from her since. So now, tell me what part of that you find funny, so we can laugh together.’
Paling, Alex said, ‘Hey, look, I’m sorry, I didn’t do anything. What did your wife look like?’
‘Pregnant. Extremely, inordinately, unbelievably pregnant. How many pregnant women did you serve today?’
‘Well, one that I remember,’ said Alex grumpily. ‘But you know, the counter is high – I don’t look over and check out my customers’ stomachs.’
Rich reached over and grabbed Alex by the shoulders, shaking him. ‘God, help me. Please,’ he whispered. ‘My wife is missing.’
Immediately he let go; Alex looked noticeably upset. Rubbing his arms, the teenager said, ‘Look, I don’t know anything. I just saw one pregnant woman here, long dark hair, carrying a lot of bags.’
Rich brightened. ‘Yes?’ he said. ‘That sounds like my wife. What was she wearing?’
‘I don’t know – oh, wait. A yellow dress.’
Rich nodded. ‘That’s my wife.’ Did that make him feel better? If it did, it didn’t make him feel better for long.
‘Yeah?’ Alex said. ‘That’s all I can tell you. She bought a couple of pretzels, I think. Paid. Left, carrying all her bags. A guy who was here buying a pretzel for himself caught up to her and asked her if she needed some help with the bags –’
Rich asked in a small, stricken voice, ‘What guy?’
‘I don’t know. Some guy. I’d never seen him before.’
‘No, of course not. Did my wife seem to know him?’
‘No. He seemed nice, though. Kept asking her questions about the pregnancy, you know, when she was due, that sort of thing.’
Rich stepped back from the counter. ‘This guy, what did he look like?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Alex. ‘I didn’t pay attention.’
‘Please try to remember.’
‘I really don’t know. Maybe your age.’ Alex looked Rich over. ‘How old are you?’
‘Thirty-four.’
‘No. I don’t know. He was older than me, that’s all I know.’
‘Beard? Mustache?’
‘No, clean-cut. Short hair. Taller than me.’
‘Taller than me?‘ asked Rich.
‘How tall are you?’
‘Six feet.’
‘No, I don’t think so. Taller than your wife.’
‘Do you remember what he was wearing?’
‘Listen, he was just a guy. There was nothing special about him. He was just another customer, you know?’
‘You don’t remember what he was wearing?’
Shrugging, Alex said, ‘No, not really.’ He glanced over at the salesgirl, who was listening to the conversation. She shrugged, as if to give him moral support. Alex turned back to Rich. ‘I think jeans, a jacket. But I can’t be sure.’
Rich was quiet. ‘You said he approached my wife and asked her if she needed help with the bags?’
‘I think that’s what he asked her.’
‘And she?’
‘I don’t know. They were, like, too far from me. I didn’t hear her. I assume she said no thanks, because he lagged behind and she walked on by herself.’
‘When you say lagged behind –’
‘What?’
‘“Lagged behind” implies he followed her. Or did he turn around and go the other way?’
Scratching his head, Alex said, ‘No. I think he lagged behind. I think he went the same way she did. I’m not sure. I got another customer, and stopped watching them.’
Rich’s hands were drumming on the counter. ‘Did you get a feeling about him?’
‘No, I got no feeling about him,’ said Alex, for some reason sounding offended.
‘Did you see him again?’
‘No, I got busy. It was lunchtime. I didn’t see anybody.’
‘Didn’t see my wife either?’
‘Uh – come to think of it, I did see him. I saw her too. She was walking back from over there.’ Alex pointed. ‘She had more bags in her hands. She looked tired, but was walking faster than before. Like she was hurrying, you know?’
‘And when did you see him?’
Alex thought. ‘I don’t know. I think after I saw her. He was kind of shuffling along.’
‘Was he going in the same direction she was going?’
‘Well, I don’t know if it was in the same direction.’ Alex pointed to the mall aisle. ‘You see, either someone is walking to the left or they’re walking to the right. They either disappear behind the wall to the right or they disappear here to the left. Occasionally they may go into Dillard’s or sit near the fountain. But that’s it. I saw her going to the left, and I saw him going to the left too.’
‘Yes,’ said Rich in a raspy voice. ‘What time was that?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe a little after one. I went on my break at one-thirty.’
‘Alex, please take a ride with me, will you? To the police station.’
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ said Alex, looking nervous. ‘I’m not getting in a car with you. I don’t know you.’
‘Okay, then can I use your phone? I have to call the police.’
They let him call the police, and then they waited. Rich called home, found out that Didi had not called or returned. He asked Ingrid to call his mother and ask her to come and take care of the children for him.
‘Is everything all right?’
‘Yeah, sure,’ said Rich, closing his eyes as he leaned on the counter for support. ‘We’re just – I’m just going to be delayed – listen, don’t worry. How are the girls?’
‘Hold on,’ said Ingrid. ‘Irene wants to talk to you.’
Rich tried to put on his cheeriest voice. ‘Hi, honey. How was playgroup?’
Three-year-old Irene didn’t want to talk about playgroup. ‘Daddy,’ she whined, ‘Manda won’t share Sing and Dance Barbie with me!’
‘It’s okay, honey,’ Rich said. ‘Where’s yours?’
‘Mine broke and now she won’t share hers!’
In the background, Rich heard Amanda’s voice. ‘She broke hers and now she wants to break mine!’ Then, ‘Give me the phone! I have to talk to Daddy too.’
Rich took a deep breath. He heard the phone crash to the floor, followed by piercing screams. Ingrid picked up the receiver and said, ‘Everything is all right.’
‘Good,’ Rich said. ‘Please call my mother.’
‘If you want, I can stay a little later,’ Ingrid said.
‘Thanks. I don’t know how late we’ll be, though.’
‘Is Didi having the baby?’
And in the background, Irene shrieked, ‘Mommy’s having the baby! Mommy’s having the baby!’
Rich tensely rubbed the bridge of his nose. All he wanted to do was hang up. ‘No, she’s not having the baby. Just call my mom, Ingrid, please.’
He had no stomach to call his mother himself. He had nothing to tell her, anyway. He just needed her help. His mother was going to lose it no matter what. Ingrid had never called before to ask Barbara Wood to come over and help with the children. Rich knew that talking to his mother required too much of him, and he didn’t have the patience for it. Ingrid asked again if everything was all right, and Rich said yes, sure, but had to hang up. He could barely hold himself together.
Five minutes later the police arrived. There were two officers – Officer Charles, a man, and Officer Patterson, a woman. Patterson did not seem particularly sympathetic and Rich took an instant dislike to her. She reminded Rich of the disapproving older woman in the parking lot. Like, what’s the matter, your wife is away from you for a few hours and you panic? What about when you leave us to go on your business trips and we can’t get in touch with you? What about when you go out with the boys and say you’re coming home at midnight and it’s three and you’re still not home? Don’t worry, Officer Patterson’s casual expression read. Your wife is probably at the movies.
Officer Charles was talking, but through the din in Rich’s head he could barely hear him. Then he realized the din was there just so he couldn’t hear Charles speak, because Rich didn’t like what he was hearing. Something about not jumping to conclusions.
Rich wasn’t sure if he needed to respond to that or just get in his car and go home. He said, ‘I thought you came to help me. If you can’t help me, then let me talk to someone who can.’
The officers tried with little effect to be more helpful. ‘Could your wife have gone into labor?’ said the woman officer. ‘Could she be in the hospital somewhere?’
Shaking his head, Rich said, ‘We’re preregistered at Columbia Medical. If she was having a baby, that’s where she would go, and they have my number. Also she has it. She’s not there. I called them. And no one’s called me.’
‘Could she have been in an accident?’ said Charles.
‘Yes, yes, she could have,’ Rich said impatiently, failing despite his best wishes to talk slowly, calmly, reasonably. ‘No, absolutely. You’re so right. She could have been in an accident.’ He paused. ‘But not in her own car. Because our car is parked out –’ and he flung his arm for emphasis – ‘there.’
Officer Charles stared at him. ‘Perhaps she had an accident in someone else’s car?’ he said.
‘Maybe she met a friend and decided to spend the afternoon with him or her,’ Officer Patterson suggested.
Rich rubbed his eyes, shaking with frustration, and other things. ‘Oh, dear Jesus! We had a lunch date at one. She didn’t show up. She has the cell phone with her –’
‘Maybe it ran out of power,’ said Patterson.
‘You mean to tell me that my wife decided to stand me up after calling me and asking me to meet her early?’ he said loudly. He may have even shouted. The officers asked him if he wanted to go upstairs and talk to them privately in the security offices. Rich refused.
‘Could she still be in the mall, maybe?’ said Charles, while Patterson looked at Rich disapprovingly.
‘Okay,’ said Rich. ‘She buys a pretzel from Alex at twelve twenty-five, at which point she’s accosted by a stranger who offers to carry her bags. She refuses. He follows her –’
‘He goes in the same direction she’s heading,’ Officer Patterson corrected him.
‘Of course, excuse me. At twelve-thirty she calls my office and asks me to meet her a little early for lunch. That’s unique in my experience.’
‘Maybe you’re prejudging your wife,’ said Officer Patterson. ‘There’s a first time for everything.’
Rich faced the male officer. ‘She shops for a little while longer, and then Alex sees her heading that way.’ Rich pointed. ‘Which is where her car is parked. I know because it’s still there. The man is walking in the same direction she is. I know you say it’s a coincidence, but how many can we have in one day?’ Rich could not stop moving. ‘If my wife met me for lunch, then I’d say everything’s hunky-dory and isn’t it all so coincidental. But she didn’t meet me for lunch. No one’s heard from her. Her car is still parked outside. Which means that my pregnant wife with all her shopping bags is still in this mall, because the bags are not in the car. Except for this bag, the pretzel bag. I found it next to our minivan. Look, there’s a receipt in it, two pretzels, my wife’s smell on the bag, and what to me looks like her blood. Look!’ He shoved the bag rudely into Officer Patterson’s face and then into Officer Charles’s. ‘What do you think it is?’
‘Listen, maybe her nose bled, and she decided to come. back in,’ said Officer Patterson, a little more sympathetically. ‘Then she met someone she knew, and decided to spend the afternoon with them. That’s likely, right?’
‘Then why hasn’t she called me?’ Rich screamed.
They looked frightened of him. Frightened and concerned. As if they didn’t understand what was driving him, what he was so upset about.
Am I crazy? Am I mad? Have I lost my sanity? Rich looked around him. There was the Disney Store, there was Dillard’s, there was FAO Schwarz. He could see, he could comprehend. He wasn’t insane yet. Rich concluded that police officers were trained to deal with robberies and homicides and rapes, but not trained to deal with fear.
‘Tell you what,’ Officer Patterson said. ‘If she’s in this mall, let’s alert mall security. They’ll call for her on the PA.’
Rich threw up his hands. He paced furiously near the fountain in the middle of the mall, peering into strange faces walking past him while the officers went to talk to security upstairs. Rich was still hoping that somehow Didi would miraculously appear before him with a new hairdo. Within five minutes there was an announcement over the public address system: ‘Will Didi Wood please come to the security office on the second floor as soon as possible?’ It was repeated twice.
Rich sat down, leaned his elbows on his knees, and held his head in his hands. Seconds later he was up and pacing again. Five minutes later – which seemed an eternity – there was another announcement: ‘Will anyone with any information about the whereabouts of a nine-month-pregnant woman with long brown hair and wearing a yellow dress notify the management or the security personnel as soon as possible.’ That message was also repeated twice.
The officers came back to Rich and flanked him as he walked back and forth. ‘Let’s wait and see. Okay? Let’s wait and see what happens,’ said Officer Charles.
They didn’t have to wait long.
Rich saw two women walking alongside a security officer, and he immediately moved toward them. Charles and Patterson followed.
The young security officer said, ‘These ladies here said they might have seen a pregnant woman in the parking lot earlier today.’
‘What time was that?’ Rich snapped.
Officer Charles put up his hand as if to stop Rich. ‘Wait a second,’ he said gently to Rich. He turned to the women. ‘What time was that?’
The ladies shrugged. They were short and chubby. The taller of the short women – bleached, heavy, and middleaged – said, ‘I don’t know. Maybe around one. We were just coming into the mall.’
‘And what happened?’
‘We parked our car and started walking to the entrance. Then all of a sudden a lady started screaming.’
An uncontrolled groan left Rich’s throat. For a few seconds no one spoke. Rich couldn’t even look up from the floor. He could barely stand.
‘Go on,’ Officer Charles said quietly.
There were tears in the woman’s eyes. ‘I feel so bad now, you know, because then we looked over at her, and she had a guy with her, and he smiled at us, wrapped an arm around her, and started kissing her –’
‘Started what?’ Rich said, horrified.
‘Started kissing her.’
He briefly felt relief. ‘Well, then, that couldn’t have been my wife.’
‘Maybe not,’ she said. ‘But this woman was very pregnant and she had long brown hair. She was screaming, “Help me, help me,” and then the guy kissed her and we just thought they were fooling around, you know? Didn’t we, Debbie?’
Trembling, Rich clenched and unclenched his fists.
‘This guy, what did he look like?’
Officer Charles extended his hand again. ‘Mr Wood, wait.’ He turned to the woman. ‘What did this guy look like?’
‘We didn’t see him so good,’ she said. ‘We just saw them from the side, you know. She was wearing a white dress –’
‘White?’ Rich exclaimed, his heart pounding.
‘Not white, Nancy,’ said Debbie. ‘It was yellow. Remember I said it was a cheerful color?’
‘Oh yeah,’ Nancy said. ‘Yellow. And the guy, he was, I don’t know – a little taller than her. Kind of thin, I think. Right, Deb?’
‘Yeah, he was taller than her. He was wearing jeans and a jacket, that’s all I remember. He was kind of nondescript, and we couldn’t see them well.’
Rich nodded in anxious agreement. ‘Nondescript – that’s exactly how Alex described the guy who was hanging around Didi when she bought the pretzels.’
Officer Patterson looked at Rich. He couldn’t place the peculiar expression and thought maybe it was guilt for her earlier reluctance to believe that Didi was in trouble, but then Patterson asked, ‘Does the man sound like anyone you know?’
Rich wished Patterson was a man and not a police officer, because he wanted to hit her. ‘What the hell are you saying to me?’ he said and didn’t care how he sounded. ‘What the hell do you think you’re saying? Does the guy sound like someone I might know? The guy who kisses my wife as she’s screaming for help? You know, no one like that springs to mind at the moment.’ Rich glared at her. ‘You’re saying, do I know if my pregnant wife has been fooling around behind my back?’
The officers looked ashamed, and the two women were downright embarrassed. ‘You just can’t help yourself, can you?’ Rich said to Patterson. ‘You just can’t help saying the wrong thing.’
‘I apologize,’ Patterson started to say, but Rich cut her off. ‘Obviously you have a problem dealing with people, and I see that as a real detriment in your line of work, considering you pretty much have to deal with people all day long.’
Disgusted with her, he turned away and spoke to Officer Charles. ‘Why are you looking for every possible explanation except the obvious? Her nose bled, she met a friend, the cell phone’s dead, she forgot about our lunch date, blah, blah, blah. Everything. God, can’t you see what must have happened?’ He was choking on his words. ‘My wife is missing. My pregnant wife – she’s probably been taken by force –’ The words were larger than his throat. ‘What can we do now?’ He looked around and walked back a few steps to sink into the wooden bench. ‘What do we do now?’ he said and buried his face in his hands.
4.00 PM (#ulink_4a70c82f-cf72-5dcf-aeba-fb57a885d7ab)
The man kept a steady pace on the road. They had just passed Midlothian, twenty miles south of Dallas.
‘What are the rules of our game?’ Didi asked.
‘Rules?’ Pleasure showed on his face. ‘Okay, how about this? We do it in three guesses and I give you three clues.’
‘Sounds good,’ said Didi, licking her lips. She liked it better when he wasn’t sullen.
‘My name,’ said the man, ‘is the name of a great country singer.’ She said, ‘Kenny?’
‘Kenny?’ he exclaimed. ‘Gosh, no! I said great, didn’t I? Not a hack. No, a great, incredible country singer. Two more guesses left.’
‘Well, then,’ said Didi, ‘I need two more clues, don’t I?’
He thought about it, saying nothing for a while. He drove. The sun beat hot on the car. Didi was panting. She needed cool air.
‘Okay, how about this – he’s tall.’
Shaking her head, Didi said, ‘They’re all tall, tall is not a good clue. Sort of like, they’re all men.’ She thought she’d gone too far. Like she was insulting his clues or something.
It was clear he thought the same thing, because he said to her, ‘Are you trying to get smart with me?’
‘No, no,’ she quickly said. ‘I mean, maybe something a tiny bit more specific.’
‘I was married recently,’ he said, and Didi couldn’t be sure if he was in character or talking about his own life. ‘And now I’m not anymore.’
‘Why not?’ said Didi.
‘Because my wife was a hopeless slut and wouldn’t settle down,’ he said harshly.
She guessed he was in character. ‘Lyle Lovett,’ Didi said. ‘Lyle.’
He looked at her sideways with amazement and maybe even admiration. ‘Wow. Two guesses. My name is Lyle. That’s incredible. Very fast. Lovett is not my last name, though.’
‘No, of course not,’ Didi said. And then, ‘Lyle is a nice name.’ Sucker-upper, she thought. You’ll say anything to save your life, won’t you?
She must have looked stricken, because he said solicitously, ‘What’s the matter?’ and placed his right hand on her knee.
It was difficult not to cringe and pull away from him. Wiping her face quickly, she said, ‘Can I have that drink now? I’m really very thirsty.’
‘Well, hold on, hold on,’ said the man named Lyle. ‘I have to guess your name now, too, don’t I?’
‘I can just tell you my name,’ Didi offered.
‘No!’ He stuck out his hand. ‘I want to guess. Please. I was having so much fun with this at Dillard’s. Let me see…what do I get if I guess in three?’ And he leered at her, smiling suggestively and pursing his lips. She wanted to open the door and fall out of the car onto the embankment. She would have done so if she hadn’t had a baby inside her.
‘I don’t know,’ she said helplessly. She did not add, what do you want?
‘How about a little kiss?’ he said, reaching out and placing his hand on her leg, just below her dress line. His hand on her bare leg made her emit a retching sound.
Lyle took his hand away. ‘Yes,’ he said, not smiling. ‘Maybe we’ll start with a little kiss. Now give me the first clue.’
She tried to swallow. Her throat was dry. She needed to swallow to ease her anxiety, but there was nothing to swallow with. The need, though, was great. She wiped her sweaty forehead and, panting, put her hand in her mouth. Unsatisfying, but better than the tightness that overwhelmed and paralyzed her. ‘Okay, first clue,’ she said huskily. ‘I was a major female character in an old, very famous play.’
Lyle’s brow furrowed. Suddenly he didn’t seem to be enjoying himself. He obviously realized it was going to be harder than he had thought. ‘Play?’ he said grumpily. ‘I don’t know any plays. What do you mean?’
‘Well, that’s my first clue. If you want another clue, I’ll give it to you, but then it will be two clues.’
‘No, wait. Let me guess.’ He looked pensive. ‘An old play?’
She was quiet, rubbing her sore right ear. ‘Yes, an old play.’
There was an echo in her ear, and the ringing would pass through the canyon of her eardrum, bounce off, and ring in both ears. She was getting a terrific headache. Lowering her hands to the Belly, Didi felt the baby kick. In the first second it gave her comfort, in the second, anguish. The baby.
‘I’ve never seen a play in my life,’ said Lyle.
‘What about in high school?’
‘Yeah,’ he drew out. ‘Maybe in high school. Guys and Dolls, maybe. Sound of Music. Yes! Your name is Maria.’
‘No,’ she said, and thought, idiot. Didn’t I say an old play?
‘No?’ He seemed disappointed. He had looked so proud of himself when he said Maria. The baby kicked again. She closed her eyes.
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Полина Саймонс
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: A compelling, heartrending tale of a woman in danger and the man who’s desperate to find her, from the internationally bestselling author of TULLY and ROAD TO PARADISEA heavily pregnant young woman is leaving the shopping mall to head home on a horribly hot day in Texas. Her normal life of shopping, husband, children, with the extra excitement of the imminent baby, stretches before her.And then she is bundled into a car and kidnapped by a desperate young man.What does he want? Where are they going?In scenes that alternate between the desperate husband, pursuing by car, the alarmingly laid-back FBI agent tracing her by helicopter – who may or may not be as good as he thinks at rescuing hostages – and the increasingly threatened wife, Eleven Hours is a tour de force of storytelling power.