Faint of Heart (8 page)

Which one of the three was involved in the kidnapping?

Were any of them? Maybe she wouldn't have to start a fight. Maybe she could just punch herself in the face and walk back outside.

And maybe she should just leave Gary for dead while she was at it.

"What can I get you?" the bartender asked.

"For right now, just a bathroom."

The bartender nodded toward the door right under the television. Wonderful. Nothing like knowing that a couple of creepy-looking guys were staring in her direction while she was using the bathroom. At least it couldn't be as bad as the outhouse.

She emerged a couple minutes later, longing for the good old days of the outhouse. But restroom facilities were a pretty small problem compared to her task at hand.

She sat down at a vacant table, trying to figure out how to approach the situation. Who should she confront? The old guy looked like his punch would hurt less, but that wasn't really an issue, since to save Gary she'd gladly take a blow from George Foreman, with his fat-reducing grill, if he wanted. The question was, which of the two men was more likely to punch out a woman over a football argument?

Probably the big guy.

She felt almost disconnected from her body, but she forced herself to get up and sit down at his table. He looked a bit surprised, clearly unaccustomed to having women take any sort of interest in him.

"Catch the game last night?" she asked.

"Which game?"

"Football."

"Nah, I missed it. Who was playing?"

"You tell me, you fat fuck." She stumbled over the words, but forced herself to retain eye contact.

The man blinked. "What?"

"I said, you tell me, you fat fuck. What's the matter? Scared to discuss football with a girl?"

The man glanced over at the bartender for help. "I think you've got the wrong person."

Rebecca's face was burning, and she knew it had to be bright red, not that anybody would be able to tell in the bar's poor lighting. "You're the only person I'm talking to," she said.

The man pushed back his chair and stood up. "Sorry, I've gotta head off. Got stuff to do."

Rebecca stood up as well, grabbing his arm. "We were in the middle of a conversation."

"Lady, you're mentally ill." The man yanked his arm free, and gestured to the bartender. "Jesus, Frank, what kind of people do you let in this place?"

Rebecca made a second grab for the man's arm, but missed. What should she do now? Give it up and harass the old guy? The bartender?

The man started to walk around the table, but she moved to the right, blocking his path. "I'll bet you fifty bucks you can't beat me in a fight," she said.

"Lady, go back to the asylum. You need medicine, and that, that shocker-thing they use on crazy people."

"Ma'am, I'll have to ask you to leave," said the bartender. "Don't make me call the police."

Rebecca clenched her fists and looked the bearded man in the eye. "A hundred bucks."

"I'm not gonna fight you, lady!"

"Chickenshit."

"You're right. I'm chickenshit. So why don't you go someplace else, okay?"

Obviously he wasn't going to take the first punch, not that she'd really expected him to. So she stepped forward and swung at his jaw. The man easily deflected her blow, slapping her fist away. She took another swing, and this time he caught her fist in his hand.

"Frank, will you
do
something?" he demanded.

Rebecca tried to tug her hand free, but the man wouldn't let go. With her free hand, Rebecca grabbed the man's wrist. Then she yanked his hand forward as hard as she could, smashing his fist into her cheek. There was an explosion of pain, and she let out a cry and fell to the ground.

"I didn't hit her!" the bearded man insisted. "You all saw it! She pulled my hand into her face! I didn't do anything!"

"Don't worry, we all saw it," said the bartender, hurrying out from behind the counter.

Rebecca sat up, blinking back tears. She never imagined it would hurt so much, and she had done all the work. "I'm okay, I'm okay," she said. "I'm fine. I'm sorry."

"What the hell is the matter with you, lady?" asked the bearded man.

"Nothing, I'm just...I'm fine." She used a chair to brace herself and pulled herself to her feet. She rubbed the spot where she'd been hit. "I'm sorry."

"Do you need us to call somebody?" the bartender asked.

"No, no, I just need to go."

"Do you want a bag of ice?"

She nodded. The bartender went to retrieve it while the bearded man just stared at her.

"I'm sorry," she said again.

The bearded man didn't respond. He looked at his fist then sat back down at his table without a word.

Though she couldn't be certain, she thought she saw the old guy hide a smile. Was he simply amused by the ridiculous situation, or did he know exactly what she was there to accomplish?

CHAPTER NINE

Rebecca walked out to her car, holding the bag of ice to her face. She couldn't imagine how bad it would hurt if the man had
wanted
to punch her. She just wasn't cut out for violence.

Still, she'd made it through the first three tasks, and now she was going to get proof that Gary was still alive.

(
Please!
)

She opened the trunk. At first she thought there was nothing in there except for a few random pieces of Gary's collected junk, but after a quick search she discovered an envelope taped to the inside of the lid. She tore it open and read the message inside.

So either you're cheating or you're doing well. If you're cheating, we already know about it and have splattered your hubby all over the ground, making a horrible mess that some unfortunate soul is going to have to clean up, unless Gary just soaks into the ground. If you're doing well, then it's time for a brief intermission, and we have a present for you. Drive down this road the way you came. In two miles you'll see a small dirt road, marked by a cross. Turn there, keep to the left, and when you get to the end, sit and wait
.

Rebecca got back in the Chevy and drove away from the bar. Her hands were shaking, but her mood was brighter than it had been all morning. That wasn't saying much, and she didn't believe that they'd actually let her see Gary in person, but to simply know that he was still alive would be an unbelievable relief.

About two miles later, she saw a small wooden cross, and turned onto a bumpy dirt road that forced her to drive carefully to avoid scraping both sides of the car on outstretched tree branches. It split off three different times, and she took the left fork each time, adding another three miles to the odometer before she reached the end of the road. There was forest on all sides of her, but it was thin enough to let plenty of sunlight through.

She shut off the engine and waited.

For about five minutes she sat patiently. Then she started to get worried.

Would somebody attack her?

The note had said this was an intermission. Surely Gary, Scott, and Doug would have had absolutely no reason to go down this path, so this couldn't be part of the test, right?

Right. She was safe, for now.

She fidgeted nervously for another five minutes.

The note hadn't said she couldn't get out of the car and wander around the area, but she didn't think that was a good idea. Better to be restless inside the vehicle than accidentally bump into somebody who wasn't expecting to find her outside.

Another ten minutes passed.

Was she in the right spot?

Yes, of course she was in the right spot. The directions weren't complicated. She just needed to wait.

Maybe they were dragging Gary through the forest at this very moment.

Not likely.

Maybe they were dragging Gary's bloody corpse through the forest at this very moment.

Or half of it.

Stop it!
 

She tried to distract herself by counting out loud, slowly. One...two...three...four...

...eighty-seven...eighty-eight...eighty-nine...

A knife plunging into Gary's chest, again and again...

...ninety...ninety-one...ninety-two...

And then Alan emerged from the woods, a colorfully wrapped present tucked under his arm. He smiled and waved at her, then motioned for her to roll down her window.

"Nice to see you again!" he said, walking over to the car. "You're looking good since we were together last. Have you lost weight?"

"Where's Gary?" Rebecca asked.

"I don't know. Somewhere, I guess. I brought you a present." He rattled it and grinned. "You're gonna like it."

Rebecca looked at the package. It was decorated with bright pink and purple wrapping paper, with a huge white bow on top. It was about the size of...

A bowling ball. It was about the size of a bowling ball.

"It's freezing out here," said Alan. "Mind if I join you in the car?"

Rebecca shook her head and moved the grocery bags to the back seat. Alan opened the passenger-side door, got in, and slammed the door shut hard enough to rattle the automobile. He set the present on his lap then rubbed his hands together for warmth.

"Having fun?" he asked.

"What do you think?"

Alan shrugged. "How should I know? You're an elementary school teacher. Maybe this is the kind of excitement you've been searching for all your life. Maybe this is feeding your incessant craving for adventure."

"I don't need any adventure."

"Oh, now, everybody needs adventure. It's human nature." He bobbed his knees up and down. "Don't you want to know what I got you?"

She reached for the present, but Alan slapped her hand away. "That was a question, not an invitation. First I want to know how you think the game is going. Any helpful suggestions? Anything you think we could be doing better? Was the handwriting on the notes neat enough?"

Rebecca just stared at him. Was he serious?

Suddenly Alan grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head down, making her wince with pain. "Listen, sweetie, I'm making the best of this situation, so you can at least meet me halfway," he said, with absolutely no trace of his previous levity. "I don't even wanna be doing this. I'd much rather just gut you right here. As far as I'm concerned, this whole thing is a waste of time."

Then she felt cold steel on the back of her neck. Sharp steel. Alan put some more pressure on it, and she winced again. "So, do me a favor and show a little more spunk, okay? Get in the spirit of things. I'm not asking you to dance around and giggle, but for God's sake at least don't act like a mannequin. Do you understand?"