Marilyn (12 page)

THIRTY-FIVE

The three of them entered Sheriff Russell's office. R.J. took up position behind his desk and Elwood assisted Marilyn into the spare chair.

R.J. opened his top desk drawer and took out a packet of travel-sized tissues, ripped the plastic off and handed Marilyn two.

'Thank you.'

She sniffed back the watery dread that ran from her nose and patted her eyes, they were bluer than ever, but the tears refused to cease.

R.J. didn't sit, he paced around with his eyes to the floor before he spoke.

'Can I get you two anything, a drink, something to eat, maybe?'

Marilyn didn't remove her face from her hands, her wet tissue clung between her knuckles. It was Elwood that answered for them.

'I could sure use a drink. I think coffees would be good right now,' he reported, looking at Marilyn for confirmation. 'Thank you, Sheriff.'

He let his hand gently fall onto Marilyn's shoulder.

'The stronger the better.'

R.J. Shuffled around his desk to his door and stood in the doorway between his office and the main station.

'Yeah, I think coffees all around sounds like a good idea to me,' smiled R.J., wrapping his fingers on the office door. 'Davies?' he called out.

No reply. He called again, louder, angrily, until he was heard.

Davies appeared like an apparition, sweating, and covered in muck and grease.

'Yeah, boss?' Davies shouted from the opposite end of the station.

‘Three coffees, please, as fast as you like. Four, if you want one, then come and join us in my office. Elwood Bailey and Marilyn are here.'

Davies dusted his hands off and dragged them across the back of his trousers, staining them with the spoils of hard and underpaid work.

'Sure thing, boss.' Davies raised his hand and pointed his finger, aiming it through the wall at Marilyn, he mouthed, without speaking a word, his lips moving slowly and accurately, accentuating his words, so they were not lost in his silence.

'Is she OK?'

Sheriff Russell shook his head, in a long, dragging fashion, closing his eyes momentarily.

     'I'll get right on it, boss,' Davies voiced, sorrowfully. He paused. 'Oh, and the power, shouldn't be much longer, either. Think I've almost got it. I hope.'

'Thanks, Davies. That's good work.' R.J. smiled, turned on the spot and pushed the door shut with the back of his hand, until he heard the metallic clicking of the lock.

**

Marilyn discovered that her tears were not endless, that she was not hopeless and weak, that she still had it inside of her to keep fighting until the end, whatever and however it would come. She gave her face a once over with the dripping rag that was once a tissue, even going as far as to straighten up her untidy hair, and pull down her coat so it sat straight around her hips.

**

The two men watched in awe of her strength and determination. She bloomed from a crushed speck of timid flesh into a vision of solidity, capable of accomplishing anything, right before their eyes.

Elwood needed something stronger than a coffee, a lot stronger. He rubbed at his forehead, trying to relieve himself of a painful ache that had set behind his skull. It thumped away, dislodging any and all ideas and thoughts that attempted to form.

**

Sheriff Russell planted himself in his seat. He laid his arms down onto his desk, interlocking his fingers. He rubbed his thumbs together before he spoke.

'Marilyn?'

She looked him directly in the eyes.

'Marilyn, I'd like to be as honest as I can with you.'

He coughed into his hand before continuing. His words were affable and considerate.

'I haven't been able to reach anyone, any other stations in towns, damn, not even the highway patrol. The phone lines are down and God only knows when they'll be back up. Not a single car has come through town, and with this weather, I don't expect anyone to, especially if this guy is smart.'

R.J. leaned forward in his chair, stretching himself across the desk towards her. 'Now, how sure can you be that he came this way, towards this town?'

Marilyn paused, considering the question.

'I'm not.'

THIRTY-SIX

Andrew Dunn jerked his large legs up and around the staircase, skipping a stair with each step, the tips of his toes squashed and the balls of his feet felt bruised, as he struggled under the severity of his own weight. His heart was rocky at the best of times, but now, he really felt the strain.

The finish line was just up ahead, and so was David, standing wobbly-legged outside of the bathroom. The look that smothered the innocent face took Andrew by complete surprise. He was sickly white. Beads of sweat clung to his eyebrows like stalactites. He was almost shaking, slumped, as if standing straight was a strength-sapping burden.

**

Jack was speechless, the power of communication stolen and carried away by spiteful fright. He punched his hands into his pockets, standing with stubborn repose, but he was a glass statue, transparent.

**

Mr Dunn took a deep breath and lowered himself onto one knee, proposing, for his own comfort, to identify with David. He rested his oversized hand on Jack's skinny shoulder and leaned his head in close to Jack's, he could feel his sporadic breathing pattern on his face.

'Hey, are you OK, David?'

Jack stood motionless, aching for the ability to find an answer.

'Jack,' he finally let out, in a breathless wheeze.

     'Excuse me?' Andrew questioned, with both interest and concern.

'My name's Jack, not David.' His voice was no more than a whisper.

'I'm sorry, I don't understand.'

     'My name isn't David,' said Jack, and his words flew out, flowing freely in one confusing flurry. ‘My name is Jack. I've been kidnapped. That man downstairs isn't my father. I don't know who he is. I think he gave me poison. I was with my mom, I don't know what he did to her. I don't know if he hurt her. He took me to this motel and put a rag in my mouth. He thinks I'm his son, David. He's crazy, it's like he's two different people. He has a gun tucked into the back of his trousers, he's really dangerous. He said he would shoot you all if I said anything, even your dog, if you had one. I'm sorry. I'm just so scared. I'm…'

Andrew heard every single word of Jack's tearful monologue, picking out the key words, replaying them in Jack's voice inside his own head.

He took his arm from Jack's shoulder and placed it gently on his cheek, stroking away the tears with his thumb.

'Hey, Jack, it's OK. I promise everything is going to be just fine, OK? Trust me. I'm a police officer,' he said, bringing Jack in closer. 'You're safe now, OK? You're safe now.' He wrapped both arms around the boy. 'There's nothing to worry about. But I need you to do something for me, do you think you can do that?'

Jack nodded, stripping his face of his fears. He wiped the tears away this time. Two tiny, innocent hands absorbing the wet, emotional torment that no one, let alone a child, should have to suffer through.

'Yes, sir,' Jack claimed, proud, strong.

Andrew calmly shuffled back and put both hands on Jack's arms, holding him upright and in place, quashing his shakes.

'Good kid.' He smiled. 'Right. In my room, I have a gun, OK? It's locked up so it's going to take me a couple of minutes to get it. What I need you to do is to go back downstairs…'

'But, I… I,' interrupted Jack.

'I know, just hear me out, Jack,' Andrew went on. 'I promise nothing bad is going to happen to you. OK?'

Jack nodded long and slow, sniffing, stiffening up his duellist’s face.

'I need you to go back downstairs and act like nothing has happened. Can you do that?' Andrew didn't wait for the reply. 'That man is sitting in the dining room, he doesn't know I'm up here talking to you. OK? He has no idea. I don't want him to get suspicious. So just act normal, like none of this ever happened. Do you think you can manage that, Jack? Remember, he doesn't know that I've spoken to you.' Andrew released Jack's thin and tired arms, and pushed himself to his feet. 'I'll be right behind you.'

THIRTY-SEVEN

Marilyn got to her feet, trying to stay active, her posture was strong and defiant. She held the last tissue from the packet in her hand. She gave her eyes another wipe and blew her nose.

'I'm not sure, I'm not sure at all,' she started. 'When I woke up in my car on the side of the road, I wasn't thinking clearly, my brain felt all heavy and tangled. I didn't know it at the time, I still don't, but like you said, I was probably drugged. I just drove the way the car was facing, I guessed that this man hadn't turned around and headed back the way he came, but like I said, I can't be sure. I don't expect either of you to understand how and what I feel,' she admitted, clearing her throat. 'But Jack is here, and that bastard O'Sullivan, too. I can feel them both. I'm telling you, Sheriff, Jack is here, I just know it, don't ask me how I know, I just do.'

Elwood shuffled his back in his seat and tapped his knee. 'Sheriff, you can call me crazy, but... I feel it too.'  He skimmed back and forth at R.J. and Marilyn. 'Jack and O'Sullivan. I think they're both here.'

R.J. looked across to Elwood, about to speak. There was a kick at the door, and the handle slipped down. Davies backed into the office with four coffees balanced on a scabby brown tray.

'Sorry I was so long, I couldn't find any mugs,' he muttered with a natural and friendly smile.

He placed the tray on the table and made his way around the awkwardly structured and silent triangle of people, handing each person their own specifically made mug of coffee.

'Thank you,' sighed Marilyn, wrapping her palms around the piping hot cup, gratefully.

'You must be Marilyn? I'm Deputy Davies, but you can call me Al,' he offered with a welcoming smile that wrinkled up his pleasant face. 'It's nice to finally meet you.'

Marilyn returned a smile of her own, although it struggled to form and didn't last very long.

'If there's anyone that can help you get your son back, Ma'am, it's the sheriff here,' he went on, passing out the last cup of coffee to Elwood.

'He may not be much to look at, but he's damn good at his job!' Al finished, posing his delightful smile once more.

Sheriff Russell settled his coffee on his desk, unable to hide the little crease in the corners of his mouth.

     'Thanks for that, Davies.'

R.J. took a small sip of his coffee and licked around his lips. It was a fine brew.

'I didn't mean to come across like I was attacking your judgement. I'm sorry, Marilyn,' he delivered apologetically. 'I just need to know what you know. I need to know everything. I understand that this is distressing and painful for you, but I'd like you to go over everything one last time for me, in as much detail as you can remember.'

'Are you fucking kidding me?' she yelled, halfway between a shout and a cry. 'You want me to go over and over the same story and just waste more time? We've already wasted enough time.'

Marilyn, losing grip, placed her mug on the desk, spilling it.

'Sheriff, I'm telling you, Jack is out there. Sitting in this fucking office sipping on coffee isn't going to help me get my son back. Why aren't we out there looking for him, huh? Tell me.' She turned her back and cursed, dragging her hands over her face and through her hair. 'What fucking good is it doing us repeating what we already know?' she finished, with a furious cry.

The room fell silent, thumbs twiddled in the uncommunicative search for an answer.

     'Marilyn,' said Davies as he stepped forward, coming to the rescue. ‘We have nothing, the only things we can do right now are watch, wait and hope, until something happens, or O'Sullivan makes a mistake. We are out of options,' he admitted. 'I'm sure the sheriff has explained to you that we have a roadblock, which means, if he comes through town we can stop him, there is no chance of him getting to the freeway if he comes this way. But, there's another way, just off town, a farm house that is basically backed onto an off-road dirt track that takes you around the roadblock and the outskirts of town.' He wet his mouth with a slurp of hot coffee and recommenced. 'We have an officer currently on his way over there. Now, until we either hear from the farm house, or from the officers at the roadblock, there isn't anything we can do,' he conceded. 'If we went out looking for him, we could miss him. I know you don't want to hear any of this, Marilyn, but I'm afraid we all have to just play the waiting game.'

R.J. looked at Davies with sincerity. Impressed. 

Elwood disturbed the lull, holding his coffee at his waist.

'When did you last hear from the officers at the roadblock or from the officer at the farm house?'

     'Davies,' ordered R.J., ‘I want you to get on the radio to Bennett, see how far away he is, then get a hold of Brewer and Langston and see if there's any activity on their end. I want updates and I want them fast.'

     'Understood, boss.'

Marilyn, Elwood and R.J. watched Davies leave, still clutching his coffee.

The three of them stood around, exchanging deflated glances.

R.J. courteously offered Marilyn a seat, and Elwood his own. They both accepted.

Sheriff Russell walked around his office, sipping at his coffee.

'Marilyn, I want you to hear me out.' He paused. 'I know it's going to sound stupid or daft, or whatever you want to call it. But why don't you try and rest, at least for a little while,' he offered. 'I bet you can't even remember the last time you lay down. We've got a sofa in the break room, it doesn't look the best, but it sure is comfortable. Why don't you try and get some shuteye. I promise I'll wake you up as soon as I hear anything. You have my word.'

Marilyn watched Elwood, waiting, hoping for his blessing or suggestion, but it didn't come.

'Thank you, Sheriff.' She started, hesitantly, her voice giving in to the exhaustion. 'I think it could be for the best. I don't think I'll be able to sleep, but lying down for a minute or two does sound good.' She picked up her coffee and just held it. 'I'm sorry about blowing up at you earlier.'

R.J. raised a friendly hand and brushed her apology through the air.

'Don't mention it, it's fine, honestly,' he said, graciously.

'I have your word, Sheriff, that if you hear anything, anything at all, that you'll come and get me, you swear to me, Sheriff.'

Sheriff Russell held his arm up, as if under oath.

'I swear.'