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We rode in silence. My mind raced with what-ifs. What if Joe came looking for us? What if Doris was setting us up? What if when we arrived at the motel, we were ambushed by them both? What if I was asleep, and it was all just a dream? What if Kris never woke up? What if Joe’s makeshift suture had split open and she was bleeding to death?
“Will you check on Kris?” I asked Newbie as the fear of the last question rose inside me.
Without question, he turned in his seat. I angled the rearview mirror so I could see her reflection. He swept her fallen hair off her forehead, pressed two fingers to her neck, and waited. Her eyelids fluttered.
Thank god. She’s alive.
He turned back around in his seat. “She’s okay,” he said. “Her heartbeat is strong. I imagine she’s just exhausted. I’m confident she’ll wake up soon. When she does, she’s going to be thrilled to see we’re no longer in that house.”
“Thank you. I hope so.”
“How are you?” he asked me.
I blew out a heavy breath. “I have no idea,” I admitted. “I keep waiting for it to end, for me to wake up, trapped, in the crawl space. Is this really happening, or is it just a dream?”
“Unless we’re both asleep, this is real.”
“Why do you think she hit him?”
He shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe she got sick of him like we did.”
“But he was her husband...for forty-five years,” I repeated that incredible fact.
“Everyone has a breaking point.”
I recalled the not-so-distant memory in which I contemplated bashing her brains in with a book then shoving Joe’s tongue down his throat. That was my breaking point, the point when I was willing to sell my humanity for revenge.
“Yeah,” I agreed with a heavy heart. I turned briefly to face him. “Are you okay?”
“Sure, why wouldn’t I be?”
“You’re awfully blasé about this.”
“How do you want me to be?”
I wasn’t playing that game again. “React how you want, I’m not expecting a certain response,” I said, recalling our conversation in the crawl space when I found myself upset that he wasn’t furious enough to kill Joe.
I pulled into the motel parking lot. A speedbump on the path to the front office silenced our dead-end conversation. I parked and turned off the lights, but not the car.
For the first time all night, I read the time on the clock. Red numbers shined back at me—8:30 p.m.
Neither Newbie nor I unbuckled our seatbelts or made a move to get out of the car.
8:44 p.m.
The engine continued to rumble—like me, it was afraid to believe we were safe. The temptation to turn us around, get back on the road, and not stop until the half-full tank of gas was on empty consumed me.
8:53 p.m.
Staring out my window, then Newbie’s, I counted six cars, including ours. There were at least twenty rooms on each of the two floors. I questioned whether more or fewer cars were safer for us.
8:55 p.m.
I cut the engine when Kris moved behind me. She needed rest in a bed, not crowded in a small back seat. A hospital bed would have been the more appropriate place to take her, but for tonight a motel bed would have to suffice.
“I’m going to go check us in,” I said to Newbie. “Someone needs to stay with her.” I nodded toward Kris before Newbie could protest my leaving alone.
“I don’t like this.”
“Neither do I, but there’s no other way. You have no shirt.” I pointed to his bare chest. He looked down as if somehow having forgotten he was half-naked despite the chill in the early autumn’s night air. “And we can’t bring Kris inside or leave her alone, not in her condition.”
“I know you’re right, but please be careful.” Yellow light from a tall lamp post above us glowed in his eyes. The green pierced me, holding me in place with snake-like precision, as if no matter where I went, the predator inside him would find me.
Getting out of the car and closing the door behind me offered a strange sense of relief. Newbie’s intensity was overwhelming as it mixed with the events of the night, creating a tumultuous stirring of erratic emotions inside my gut.
Though I was no longer near him, I could feel his eyes on me as I walked the short distance to the office doors. I’d convinced Newbie I’d be fine, but with my hand on the doorknob, I was suddenly unsure. I looked over my shoulder toward the car. A familiar, comforting, no longer hauntingly terrifying shade of green eyes stared back at me. He nodded his head, confirming he was watching me and would keep me safe.
As tempting as it was to run back to the car, to leave town and never return, there was no point—the past would eventually catch up with me, with us.
An electric bug zapper hung by the office door. The sound of one bug after another flying into the cage as if content to die reminded me of myself. Over and over, I ran to Joe, getting burned every time I drew nearer. Clearing my thoughts, I turned the knob and pushed open the door. Unlike the insects compelled to fly toward the light, I’d turned my back on my impending death. I was never going back.
A bell chimed as I stepped inside. As the heavy door softly closed behind me, nausea washed over me like a tidal wave. The smell of Pine-Sol was the first wave to hit me. A large mop in a wringer bucket sat near me, soaking in the cleaner. The floors, spotted with mud chunks, had yet to be washed. The heat of the water acted like a steamer, filling the room with its overpowering stench. Behind the bucket was a wall plug in. Its smell, combined with the mop water, created a pungent, indescribable scent. As if I needed more sensory overload, the warm tuna fish sandwich the desk clerk ate added an unnecessary odor to the air.
I rushed to a small table, littered with old magazines, to use as a crutch.
The puzzled expression on the clerk’s face, a man, maybe early thirties, with short curly blonde hair and a small gut, made it clear my behavior was unusual. Perhaps he’d think I was a drunk, stumbling in after an early night spent at a bar.
“Can I help you?” he asked, his pale brows narrowed.
“Um, yes, I—”
With the tables help, I righted myself. I parted my lips, breathing through my mouth instead of my nose. The table had skidded a few inches across the tiled floors from my weight. I left it, afraid moving it would draw more attention to myself than I had already.
Clearing my throat, taking a breath, and forcing a smile, I did my best to sound like a sane human being. “Sorry, I’ve been driving a while. I’m pretty exhausted.” I yawned to prove a point. What began as a forced yawn turned into a long, overtired one that stalled my speech. “I have a reservation under Marie Wilson,” I said, glancing over the top of the high counter into his concerned eyes.
“Are you sure you’re okay? Do you need help? Do you have someone you want me to call for you?”
“That’s very thoughtful of you, but I assure you, I’m just tired from the long drive,” I said to the first person I’d spoken with since escaping my house.
Being out in the world again was harder than I expected. To know who to trust, how to tell if a person wasn’t trustworthy, and how to speak without the fear of being slapped for saying the wrong thing were behaviors I’d have to relearn.
“If you change your mind, just call down to me, okay?”
“Of course,” I said antsy to get away from his worried expression, fearing what he’d do if his worry grew stronger. Would he call the police, afraid I was in trouble? I wasn’t yet ready to see any cops.
“Good. Okay,” he handed me a plastic key card, “you’re in room 209. It’s on the second floor, up the stairs, and to your left. I have you down for two nights, is that correct?”
“I may need to add a night. Will that be a problem?” I asked, not yet knowing what to expect of the near future.
“I’ll make a note that you may extend your stay,” he said, typing something into the desktop computer.
“Thank you,” I said, quickly grabbing the key from his hand, avoiding any physical contact. “All of the rooms face the parking lot, right?”
It took him a moment to respond. Either it was an odd question or a stupid one. Finally, he nodded his head, grunting in agreement with my inquiry.
“Thanks.” I hesitated to turn my back on him to return to my car but had no choice. Having a stranger behind me was dizzying.
“Hey,” he called after me.
I froze in my tracks. With my hand gripping the doorknob, ready to flee but also to keep me from collapsing onto the floor, I turned to look at the clerk over my left shoulder.
“Yes?”
“I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be leaving soon for the night, but I’ll be back at seven tomorrow morning. If you need anything or want to talk, just call down from the room, okay?”
He was nice. Or maybe he wasn’t.
Would I ever trust again?
“Thank you. I appreciate it, but right now, all I need is sleep and lots of it.” I laughed like an average person, I hoped.
I opened the door, and the chilly night air blew across my heated face. I breathed in the sweet scent of dewy grass, the chemical odor of a passing car’s exhaust, and the smell of late-night diner food—juicy burgers and salty fries—wafting its way from across the street. The aroma nearly knocked me to my knees. My body responded with a long growl loud enough for the desk clerk to hear.
“Wow, I guess you never stopped to eat on your travels, huh?” He chuckled.
I shook my head, no. I was ravenous. I remembered the last thing I ate, dry toast and orange juice, but not when. It wasn’t a given that Joe would feed me; in fact, most days, he didn’t. When he did, it alternated between a slice of dry toast and orange juice or six—precisely six, no more no less—saltine crackers and milk.
“What you’re smelling is the diner across the street. The food isn’t healthy, but it’s delicious, which is probably why it’s not healthy.” His smile pushed his plump cheeks high on his cheekbones. “Order the triple-decker. It’s not on the menu, but if you tell them Andy from the Pines sent you, they’ll hook you up.”
“Okay, I will. Thank you, you’ve been very kind to me.” My head hung low, almost like I was a pitied homeless person.
I laughed to myself. I supposed I was homeless. My home belonged to Joe and Doris now.
“Goodnight, Andy.” I stepped over the metal threshold. The heavy door slowly shut behind me.
Newbie was watching me just as he’d been when I left him to check-in. My steps were hurried as I walked to the car. Despite having parked under a lamppost, all I could see was darkness. It surrounded me, threatened to consume me. I was too exposed, too noticeable to onlookers. The edges of the plastic key card etched itself into my skin. As I closed in on the car, I noticed it was still only Newbie in an upright position. I leaned down to peer into the backseat window. Kris hadn’t budged since I left.
Newbie opened his door. “Are we good?” he asked from his seat.
“Yeah, we’re all set, second floor. Do you want me to go find the room and get it unlocked, then we can both bring Kris up together?”
He answered with an emphatic no in less than a heartbeat. “No more splitting up,” he said. “We stay together from now on.”
I didn’t mind his authoritative stance, not when physical and emotional exhaustion was clawing at my insides, begging for relief. As thoughtful as Andy had been, speaking with him, pretending I was fine, that I was a normal girl, had been draining.
Newbie turned toward me. His legs stretched parallel to the opened car door as he bent forward so his arms could do the same. He released a deep, contented sigh when he finished with his cat-like movements. Using the doorframe and his headrest, he propelled himself out of the car. Once he was standing beside me, he stretched his arms above his head, reaching for the heavens. When his arms came back down, he swung them in a half-circle around his waist, breathing in a deep cleansing breath before exhaling.
I stared, partly because I couldn’t look away, partly because I was idly waiting for him to finish—I was too weak to carry Kris to our room by myself. I had no interest in ruining his moment of relief, but selfishly, I wanted my time too, which would consist of a long hot shower, then sleep, in a real bed, on real sheets, and not in a smelly old hole in the wall. Newbie was my only obstacle now, and I was losing patience.
“Sorry,” he said, opening his eyes after a long yawn. “I didn’t mean to make you wait. I guess my body had a mind of its own. Come on, let’s get into the room. If you get the door, then I’ll get Kris and follow you upstairs. Have the key out and ready so that you can unlock it quickly. When we’re inside, lock and deadbolt the door, okay?”
His eyes implored me to do as he instructed. I, of all people, knew to lock and bolt a door—I learned that lesson the hard way when Joe forced his way inside my home—but, if he needed reassurance that I would, I’d give it to him, anything to get us out of the parking lot and secured in our motel room.
“Okay,” I agreed.
I opened the back door. Newbie reached inside the cab of the car, shifting the sleeping Kris into his arms with one arm under her knees, the other behind her back. She was nestled carefully to his chest like a parent would hold a sleeping baby.
He informed me of a bag on the floor in the backseat filled with a change of clothes for us all. Despite my hatred for the person who put them there, I was thankful to Doris for preparing us with necessities. With Kris in his arms, I bent into the darkness. I rummaged all around the floor of the backseat, on the seat itself, even up in the rear window. There was nothing.
A rustling sound came from behind me. A breeze rushed across my lower back where my shirt had slid up from my bent stature. It was the type of breeze that came from a door slamming shut or having a chair yanked out from under you.
My heart rate went from calm to lethal. I was fixed to that spot, unaware of what would come next.
“Hey, sorry to bother you, but I forgot to have you sign the registration card,” Andy said from behind me.
Breaths poured into my chest like a never-ending fountain.
As I was sliding out from the backseat, my hand brushed along the top of a zippered bag. I held tight to the leather strap as I slipped out from the interior of the car. Gripping the overnight bag tightly in one hand while straightening my shirt with the other, I composed myself for a little while longer.
“Hey, Andy, do you mind if I just run up to the room fast, and then I’ll be right back down?”
I stretched my free arm out and over my head in an exaggerated fashion, hopefully reminding him of my exhaustion. He stared at me for a moment before inspecting Kris in Newbie’s arms. I was thankful that Kris was covering Newbie’s naked torso, though I doubted it would help alleviate the concerned expression etched into the corners of Andy’s kind and gentle eyes.
“As you can see,” I began, scrambling for a lie, “my friend here needs to get into an actual bed to sleep, instead of the backseat.” I rolled my eyes as if we’d tried to explain this to Kris, who wouldn’t listen. “Plus, we want to get settled in. Do you think you could give me a minute?”
“Why don’t you let me help you up to your room? I can unlock the door for you,” he said, eyeing Kris in Newbie’s cradled arms.
I chewed on the inside of my mouth, wondering what I should say to keep Andy away.
Newbie stepped between us, literally. In one stride, he blocked Andy’s face from mine. Whether protective or worried, I couldn’t be sure. They were both tall, but where Newbie was lean, Andy was broad in the shoulders and the legs. In appearance, Andy was the intimidator. But Newbie was a survivor. He’d endured Doris’s bloody rampage on his chest with a narrow knife. Determination to live made him a lethal adversary if driven to that point.
“Don’t worry. I’ve got it under control.” Newbie’s voice was low, commanding. “If you don’t mind giving us a minute, we’ll be back down to sign in.” Newbie stepped forward. I stepped out from behind him, disliking my inability to witness the exchange. The peculiar intensity of his expression caused Andy to take a step back and to his left.
The menacing effect of Newbie’s stare drew Andy’s attention to me. “Since the room is in your name, Marie, I only need your signature.”
“Not a problem. I’ll be down in a few minutes.” I stroked the bag’s leather strap like I used to do to my lucky rabbit’s foot as a child.
“Make sure you do. I get in trouble if I don’t get the proper paperwork done at check-in.”
“I promise I won’t forget.” I fisted the handle in my tight grip. It was my new good luck charm.
With Newbie following close behind, I led us to the exterior stairwell. My footsteps grew louder as we climbed the concrete stairs. Halfway up, I stopped and sagged against the rickety metal handrail. I was out of breath. My adrenaline was no longer energizing me. What was left drained from me like a sink full of water rushing down a pipe. The cold metal dug into the center of my back. I glanced up the stairs, counting eight steps left to climb to the top. That number might as well have been a thousand.
I couldn’t do it.
“I know you’re tired,” Newbie spoke in a hushed whisper, “but that desk clerk is watching us.”
I glanced over his shoulder. He was right. With his bulging arms crossed over his chest and his eyes narrowed, Andy watched us. I summoned the energy to force a smile and a small wave. He offered a curt nod in return.
Why didn’t I ask for a first-floor room?
Heaving a deep breath, I dragged myself and our heavy bag up the remaining steps. At the top, I released a grateful sigh until I saw the number on the door nearest us was 220. Ours was 209.
“You can do it,” Newbie said, aware of the long walk ahead of us. I doubted his statement.
My concern that Andy had continued his appraisal of us ebbed the farther we trudged down the exposed hallway. If I’d been thinking about him, I might have questioned why he seemed apprehensive for me as if I was in danger.
In front of room 209, I dropped our bag onto the aged artificial grass carpeting worn with holes and wear marks. I slipped the key card out of the pocket of my jeans and into the magnetic reader affixed to the wooden door painted a deep, hunter green. I flipped a switch by the door before entering. It turned on a floor lamp in the corner by the window.
Inside the room, there were two queen-sized beds, both dressed in the same bedding depicting a forest filled with pine trees. The pillows propped up against the knotty pine headboards were the same hunter green as the door. Magnetic key cards were likely the first, last, and only update the Pine Tree Inn had made since it opened its doors in the eighties.
I dropped our bag onto a round wooden table overlooking the parking lot. The spindled legs shook from the sudden weight. I quickly closed the heavy drapes, which were a muddy brown colored fabric that blended in with the dark, wood-paneled walls.
I nearly collapsed onto one of two dark green, padded chairs angled at the sides of the table. Newbie asking for help with Kris was what kept me on my feet.
Sweat beaded down his forehead. “Will you pull back the blanket so I can lay her down?” His forearms flexed, and a vein swelled to the surface of his upper arms as he readjusted her in his fatigued limbs.
“Of course.”
I locked and dead-bolted the door, then followed Newbie to the nearest bed. I untucked the bedspread and sheets, threw them back, and helped guide her down out of his arms. I situated her head onto a firm pillow while he cocooned her in a blanket.
She looked peaceful.
An explanation escaped me as to how she’d remained asleep. I worried her body had suffered too much and that she wouldn’t recover. I let that worry die, choosing instead to savor our moment of freedom.
Newbie stepped around me, unzipped the bag on the table, and withdrew a white, long-sleeved Henley. The knife marks on his chest disappeared as he slipped it on over his head. His movements were slow as he rounded the foot of Kris’s bed to sit down on the second bed, nearest the bathroom. He pulled at the chain of the lamp on the nightstand then quickly pulled at it again, turning off the light. Kris stirred but didn’t wake from the brightness.
Newbie’s shoulders and head slumped forward. His elbows rested on his knees. He looked as exhausted as I felt.
“I should go sign the paperwork.” I hitched a finger over my shoulder toward the door.
Without raising his head, as if he couldn’t muster the energy, he patted an empty spot beside him. “It can wait.”
I shook my head. “If I sit, I’ll never stand back up. As it is, I have no clue how I’m going to get back down those stairs and into the office to sign the stupid papers,” I said, frustrated that Andy forgot to do his job the first time.
Heaving a deep breath, Newbie summoned the strength to rise to his feet. With purposeful strides, he walked to me. He tugged at my arm and pulled me into a tight embrace. The weight of his sharp chin on the top of my head seemed to be the crutch keeping him upright. I almost allowed myself the same reprieve, to fall into his arms so he could catch me and hold me close like he had Kris. I resisted, unwilling to rely on a stranger for comfort.
A knock on the door startled us both.
My arms tightened around him as I buried my head in his chest. Our hearts raced in tandem. Lightheadedness blinded me. I wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.
I held him tighter when he stepped backward toward the door. “Maybe we can pretend we aren’t here,” I suggested.
“Yeah, I don’t think that’ll work.” A slight laugh bubbled in his chest. “It’s probably the guy from the office.”
“What if it’s not?” I asked, fearful that Joe discovered where we were and was there to kill us—or worse, take us back.
“No matter who it is, I promised I’d protect you, and I will. Trust me, okay?”
I wished I could fall asleep like Kris had, wake up when it was all over, and we were safe. “Okay,” I said, trusting Newbie to keep his promise.
Newbie shuffled me, so I was leaning into his side with his arm draped over my shoulder. I scanned the room for a weapon. Aside from a chair or the TV remote, there was nothing. Fear gripped my lungs in a tight vise, taking my breaths away.
When Newbie opened the door, it was Andy just like he’d predicted. Andy studied Newbie’s arm around my neck. I was nervous that our closeness looked forced, and to a degree, it was. Newbie was my safety net, which I clung to not out of love but for protection.
“Hey,” Andy said to me. “I felt bad making you walk back to the office.” He waved a small sheet of paper in the air. “I thought I’d help you out and bring the paperwork to you. I even remembered a pen.” Between his thumb and index finger, he teeter-tottered a white pen specially made with the Pine Tree Inn name printed on it in hunter green ink.
“Honey, isn’t that nice of Andy to bring the registration information to you?” Newbie asked his tone and grip on me that of a possessive boyfriend. “I’m sure he has a lot of work he’d rather be doing than seeking out a guest’s signature, and yet he did for you.”
I weaseled out of his grip.
“That is nice of you,” I said, hinting at my annoyance with Newbie’s rude behavior. I couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t appreciate Andy’s kindness, or why he’d called me honey.
I stepped forward, toward Andy with Newbie following close behind. He snaked his arm around my waist, splaying his fingers over my hip and upper thigh. I was growing tired of his overprotective presence.
“It was no trouble at all,” Andy said. “You seemed so tired that I figured I’d help as best I could. I have all of your information if you’ll just sign, Marie.” The corners of his eyes crinkled from his kind, caring, genuine smile.
I inspected the registration, deciding to ignore Newbie’s strange behavior until Andy was gone. My address was as fake as my name.
“Where do I need to sign?” I asked.
He pointed to an empty line. I took the pen from his proffered hand, signed Marie Wilson, then returned the paper to him.
“Are you going to order that triple-decker sandwich I told you about?” Andy asked, tucking the pen into his black pants pocket. “I think you’d like it. And from the sounds coming from your stomach earlier, I think you might want to consider it.” The side of his mouth quirked upward.
“I’m so far past exhausted now that I’m not even hungry anymore,” I admitted returning his infectious smile. “That’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”
Andy began swaying from foot to foot, a familiar act though I couldn’t place from where. He seemed hesitant to leave me alone. Or maybe he just wanted to be near other people—a job like his must get lonely.
“Maybe tomorrow you can come with us and show us what’s so great about this infamous triple-decker sandwich?” I said without thinking.
Newbie’s fingers dug into the flesh of my waist. I heard him hiss through his teeth. I’d been foolish to invite him as if we’d become friends. My craving for human interaction outside the confines of my home had become so desperate, I’d lost myself. Tomorrow, Newbie, Kris, and I would be spending the day at the police station, giving our statements recounting all the gory details of our time spent in captivity. There wasn’t room for anything else, not when Joe still roamed free.
“Oh my God, Andy,” I rushed my words before he eagerly accepted my invitation, “I am so sorry, I completely forgot that we have to head into town tomorrow for an appointment. Maybe another time.”
Newbie’s fingers slackened. A calmed breath tickled the back of my ear. I released an inner sigh of relief. Andy didn’t deserve to be tossed into the mix, and neither Newbie, Kris, nor I had the energy to worry about him should Joe dig his fingers into his soul as he’d done to the three of us.
“Uh...yeah, that’s fine. No biggie,” he said, disappointed. “I’ll be working tomorrow night again. If you decide you want one, just buzz me, and I’ll close up for a little while. You’re going to love it, I promise. Well, I guess I should get going,” he said. For the first time since we opened the door, he acknowledged Newbie. “Didn’t mean to keep you so long. Get some sleep.”
He dropped his head and tipped an imaginary hat on his head like a gentleman from the nineteenth century.
“I hope to see you tomorrow.” His buoyant smile suggested a mischievous side to the stranger from the Pine Tree Inn’s office. A stranger Newbie seemed less than eager to acquaint himself with. Before Andy was out of sight, Newbie had slammed the door, nearly taking my face with it.