It was nearly dark when Tyrell arrived in Redmark, though he had driven as fast as he could, keeping a sharp eye out for troopers. His heart had lifted when he saw the exit for Route 27, also known as the Redmark County Road. He rolled off the highway, wondering whether to turn right or left, and then he saw the little roadside advertisement for the Wawa, six miles to the left. Tyrell turned and headed in that direction.
A short way down the road, after passing a cluster of fast food restaurants, a Kmart and an automotive supply shop, he came to the main street of Redmark. It was a shabby boulevard with an empty town square; only a smattering of businesses seemed to be operating there.
Now that he was here, Tyrell felt a little foolish, and frustrated at the vagueness of his own plans. Maybe they weren’t stopping here in Redmark. Maybe they were just passing through and made a pit stop at the Wawa. No, no, he could not allow himself to think that. They were stopping. They had to be. He drove slowly down the main street, looking side to side. At one point he spotted a gray station wagon, like the one described by Albert as Peter Ward’s, and he pulled into a nearby parking lot. He was about to get out of his car and investigate when an old guy in a baseball cap came out of the hardware store, opened the door to the station wagon and slid into the driver’s seat. Tyrell waited until the old guy pulled out and then he followed suit.
It did not take him long to arrive at the other end of Redmark. He continued along Route 27 in the direction of the Wawa. Every time he saw a motel sign he slowed, and drove into the parking lot, looking for the gray station wagon or a sign that said Hideaway Cabins.
This is partly your fault, he chided himself. She asked for help, and you gave her only the minimum. What was she supposed to do? He thought of her as he had first seen her, with blood on her face, in that bathroom, when he thought she was a child. You have to find her. Maybe, he thought, I’ll go over to that Wawa and see if I can talk to that clerk in person. Maybe there’s something she remembers that she didn’t tell me.
He pulled out of the El Dorado parking lot and continued down the road toward the Wawa. There was very little to be seen on this road. It was really a country road, the road out of town. Oh God, he thought. What do I do next? Coming up on his right, he suddenly saw a sign that read, Hideaway Cabins. He slowed down until he had it in his headlights. Cabins for rent, day or week, it said.
All right, he thought. He could see the sign for the Wawa in the distance. That would be where they might stop for supplies if they were staying here. He turned into the dirt road and rolled slowly down under the pines, glad he had four-wheel drive on his car. It was pitch dark under the evergreens, and the road was rutted. He was surprised when the road opened out on a pretty lake, and the sky seemed to lighten accordingly. But, as for his search, it seemed he had struck out again. There was only one cabin occupied, and that had a red van parked out in front of it. The office wasn’t even open.
He felt a nagging sense of hopelessness, but he was not about to give in to it. He turned his car around and drove back out to the highway. Turning right, he headed on down to the convenience store, which was, itself, in an isolated spot. He parked in front, where there were nothing but free spaces, got out of his car and went inside.
A gawky young guy in a khaki shirt, red vest, and red visor was leaning on the counter, reading a wrestling magazine. Tyrell quickly picked out a quart of orange juice and a pack of gum to buy, and set it down on the counter. Without bothering to look up at him, the young man shifted his gaze from his magazine to the items Tyrell had set down. He rang it up and mumbled the price. Tyrell paid up, and then put most of his change in a charity box with a sign that it was for a local child burned in a fire.
The young man glanced at him then, and gave him a brief smile, before returning to his article.
‘Hey man,’ said Tyrell. ‘I wonder if you could help me.’
The boy looked up at him.
‘Is there a girl about your age who works here?’
‘I’m on my own here,’ the boy said.
‘I’m looking for a girl I spoke to this afternoon who works here. Her name is Brittany.’
The lanky boy rubbed his pale, fuzzy chin. ‘Brittany was working here this afternoon.’
‘Is she on a break? Is she coming back?’
The boy shook his head. ‘No man, she’s gone. I don’t think she works again until the weekend.’ Suddenly, the boy looked at him suspiciously. His pleasant expression faded away. ‘Why do you want to know?’ he said.
Tyrell understood. A black guy, looking for a young white chick. What was he thinking? ‘Was there anybody else here this afternoon who might be able to help me?’
‘I don’t know, man,’ said the clerk. ‘The manager was probably here. But he’s gone home.’
‘Can you call him?’ Tyrell asked.
The boy looked at him skeptically. ‘Not unless it’s an emergency. I’d lose my job.’
Tyrell hated to do it, but he had to try. ‘Look son, I’m a police officer. I need this information.’
‘Oh yeah?’ said the kid. ‘Where’s your badge?’
‘I’m not carrying my badge. Actually, I’m working undercover.’
‘You’d still need a badge,’ the kid said stubbornly.
Tyrell had to admire the kid’s balls. Some kids would be afraid to defy a black guy when he was all alone in a store like that. I had to get a brave one, he thought.
‘Come on, mister. I don’t want any trouble,’ said the boy.
Tyrell heard the anxious note in the boy’s voice and raised his hands in a placating manner. The kid was doing the right thing. Playing by the rules. There has to be another way, Tyrell thought. Another way. He walked toward the door and then stopped.
‘Do you have a men’s room?’ he asked.
The boy frowned, but gestured toward the back. ‘Next to the stockroom.’
‘Do I need a key?’
‘It’s open,’ said the boy.
‘Thanks,’ said Tyrell. He headed to the back, and out of sight.
Dena lay on the narrow bed, a cold scratchy washcloth on her forehead, as the latest cramp subsided. Her head was aching, and the veins in her legs throbbed. She looked at the darkening sky through the window in the little bedroom. Peter sat on a chair beside the bed, looking at his watch and nodding amiably. ‘The little one will be here soon.’ He held up a small, plastic cup. ‘Ice chips?’ he asked.
Dena turned her head and stared at him. The sleeves of his pinstriped shirt were neatly folded back, and he hummed to himself as if this were the most pleasant, natural thing in the world. ‘Peter,’ she said. ‘I know you are not a bad person. I’ve seen how you care for these girls and I know you would never want any harm to come to a child.’
He continued to hum, as if he didn’t hear her. He simply increased the volume of his humming, trying to drown her out.
‘I’m so frightened for my baby,’ she said and, in spite of her intentions, her words came out in a sob. ‘I need to get to a hospital.’
‘You are going to be so surprised,’ he said. ‘I am right about this. The baby will be perfectly healthy and fine. Now, I don’t want to argue about this anymore. You’re wearing yourself out and you need your strength for the delivery. You just have to trust me. Besides, it will be a beautiful experience for the girls to be here when their … when the baby is born.’
‘You realize,’ said Dena, ‘that you are holding me against my will. I can press charges against you.’
Her turned on her and there was fury in his eyes. ‘Don’t you dare. Don’t you threaten me with legal double-speak. You keep your mouth shut or you will end up like Jennifer.’
‘Jennifer?’ she whispered. ‘What about Jennifer?’
Peter struggled to compose himself. If there was one thing he could not tolerate, it was a woman threatening him with all her legal options. That unfortunate day, when he took Megan out for a ride in her wagon, they stopped to see if Dena was home. And who had answered the door but Jennifer. He couldn’t recall who was more shocked, once they recognized each other. And then, almost immediately, she had started with the threats.
When he thought back on it now, all he could remember were her eyes, her voice, that russet hair, her icy fury. What did she think he was going to do? Back down? Walk away? After all he’d sacrificed? All he’d been through?
As Peter sat staring, lost in some violent memory, Dena closed her eyes to blot out his distorted features. She realized with a sense of despair engulfing her, that there would be no reasoning with him. No threatening him, no talking him out of this, and she was too physically incapacitated to resist his will. She felt a burning hatred for him forming deep inside of her, but, more persistent than that, was a sense of her own foolishness – stupidity, really.
What have I done to you? she thought, addressing in her mind the baby that was now trying to be born before it was ready for this world. If anything happens to you, it is my fault for going with him. Why did I trust him? Don’t I have any judgment at all? I was so busy trying to get away from Brian that I turned to someone even worse … What in the world have I done?
No, she told herself. You can’t give in to this. Until this baby is actually born, there is still time. You have to try to talk to him, cajole him, anything. You can wallow in your misery later. You have no physical card to play, she thought. Try and work on his mind. How to appeal to him? she wondered. There had to be a way.
‘Peter,’ she said, but he had shaken off the memory, and resumed humming. He didn’t seem to hear her. She reached over toward the night table and tried to grasp the cup of ice. He pushed her hand away and picked up the cup. Then he shook out a chunk of ice into his hand, and shoved it between her teeth. The ice slid down her tongue and back into her throat, making her gag. She began to retch.
All of a sudden, outside, there was a thrum of a car’s engine nearing the little cabin. ‘Quiet,’ he said, putting a hand over her mouth and a finger to his lips. Her head was shoved back against the pillow. She tried to cry out around his hand, but her voice was muffled. She couldn’t breathe. She heard the thrum change tempo, as if the car had paused, and started again, and then the sound began to fade away.
Tears formed in her eyes and ran down the sides of her face. He took his hand off her mouth, reached over for a tissue and dabbed at her tears. Dena gasped. Still time, she tried to tell herself. Still time. Don’t give up. She swallowed hard, and tried again. ‘Peter.’ Her voice was raspy, from the retching. He looked coldly at her, a cheerful smile on his lips.
‘Was Tory born … at home?’ she whispered.
The expression in his eyes became … not soft exactly, but anxiously reminiscent. ‘No,’ he said. ‘She insisted on the whole medical claptrap. Doctor this and Doctor that. With Megan too.’
‘Your wife?’ Dena whispered timidly, surprised at the criticism in his tone. He rarely spoke of his wife, but in the past, when he did, it was always in the pained, respectful tone of the bereaved.
A fleeting look of guilt, as if he’d been caught out at something, crossed his face. ‘I always wanted to do it this way,’ he said. ‘The right way.’
She was amazed at this change in attitude to his wife’s memory, but she couldn’t afford to dwell on it. She didn’t have much time before the next contraction. And how many more would there be? Stay in there, she thought, trying to send her baby a psychic message. Rest inside Mommy. Don’t be in such a hurry. She tried to regain her thready train of thought.
‘Well, it certainly turned out all right for those two. You couldn’t find two healthier, more beautiful girls.’
He was too proud of them to resist such an observation. In spite of himself, he smiled. ‘They are beautiful,’ he said. He lifted the cloth from her forehead, dunked it in a bowl of cold water and squeezed it out. Then he patted it carefully back on her forehead. ‘No thanks to … anyone else,’ he said.
‘I guess you wanted them to be born at home,’ she said.
‘If you call that a home,’ he said.
‘I don’t understand,’ said Dena.
‘You don’t need to understand,’ he said. ‘Tory,’ he called out.
The older child came rushing into the room. ‘Is the baby here?’ she cried.
‘Not yet,’ he said. ‘But soon. Soon you’ll have a little brother or sister. I think a brother. What do you think?’
‘I think a brother,’ Tory agreed automatically.
Peter handed her the bowl. ‘Go and empty this out, and refill it with cold water.’
A brother or a sister, Dena thought. It made her feel almost dizzy. How could he even say such a thing? As if the moment she was back on her feet she wouldn’t take her baby and leave. ‘You know, you shouldn’t encourage them to think that. I don’t want them to get too attached to the baby,’ she said.
‘Why not?’ he asked.
‘You know why,’ she said.
‘No, I don’t. Tell me,’ he said.
‘Well, I mean, obviously, after I give birth, the baby and I will be … making our home together. I mean, I’m sure we’d always love to see the girls …’
‘Giving birth,’ he said. ‘That’s such a phony expression. You’re not giving that baby anything. If anyone’s giving it birth, it’s me. You’re just going to lie there, like a pig in a sty. I mean, they let you take it home just because you carried it, but what do you really know about raising children? Nothing. You’re ignorant. You don’t have any idea what it takes, what responsibility, what vigilance is required …’
‘I’ll soon find out,’ she said, trying to placate him.
‘I doubt it,’ he said.
She didn’t want to know what he meant by that. She had to keep thinking that she and her baby were going to be all right. Get back to the girls, she thought. His favorite subject. Try and arouse a little sympathy in him. There had to be some. ‘You are such a devoted father to your girls,’ she said. ‘You always put them first. You and your wife wanted to do everything you could for your children. You just had different ideas about how they should come into the world. Obviously, your wife thought a hospital would be the best place …’
‘My wife was a lazy cow. She wanted to be in the hospital so she wouldn’t have to do anything. She had no standards. She cut every corner. I mean, that’s something she would do. Leave the kids out there on that bench like that. You know, I’ve yet to meet the woman you can trust with kids. I put up with Brenda for almost a year for want of anybody else, but if ever there was a woman with slovenly habits …’
‘Brenda Kelly,’ Dena whispered.
He suddenly became guarded again. He looked at his watch. ‘Should be another contraction any minute now,’ he said calmly.
Everything about you is a lie, Dena thought. I was fooled by the children. Their presence lulled me into thinking you were someone else. Dena tried not to think about Brenda Kelly. She tried only to think of her baby, and how she could get her baby to safety. ‘Peter, I thought you were on my side,’ she said. ‘I thought you understood how important this baby is to me. You agreed with me that I should get away from Brian. You knew I wanted to love and take care of my baby and protect my baby from harm.’
‘You are the harm,’ he said.
She stared up at him, trying not to let her worst fears form in her mind. She swallowed hard and spoke in an urgent tone. ‘I’m sure I have a lot to learn, but I won’t be like your mom was. Believe me. I’m going to take him to the park every day and bundle him up when it’s cold and sing to him and give him lots of love …’
‘And have no father for him, and feed him candy, and leave him outside of stores on benches where anyone could come along and snatch him. Oh, no, I don’t think so. What the world doesn’t need is another child raised by a hopelessly inadequate mother like you.’
She couldn’t pretend she didn’t know what he was saying. She tried to struggle up off the bed, but he pressed her down with his forearm. ‘Mustn’t get up,’ he said.
And then the next contraction came, knocking her back with all its force. Peter smiled at the sight of her frightened face. ‘Here we go,’ he said. ‘All right. Focus and breathe.’