Nick of Time

by Julianne Q Johnson

  "They said the police are already on their way," Mr. Jensen says as he puts his phone back in his pocket. "Someone called it in."

  Daphne takes one look at me and rushes into my arms. She's crying so hard she can't speak. I hate how she's been so frightened by such a creep. Leading her to the sofa, I get her to sit down and let her cry on me. I reach into my pocket and produce a handkerchief, which I hand to her. I know it's old-fashioned, but I picked up the habit from my dad. It's handy to have an actual handkerchief, especially when I never know what's going to happen on any given day.

  "You called the police?" Mr. Jensen is standing behind his wife, who is seated in a chair near the couch.

  They both look worried and Mrs. Jensen keeps twisting the hem of her shirt in her hands. Daphne's parents are safe now, but it will take them some time to get over the ordeal.

  "Yeah. I got nervous, so I stopped by to see if everything was all right. I could hear the shouting from the sidewalk."

  "The man is a menace. The cops need to find him and put him away."

  "I agree, Sir. I think they are trying to do exactly that."

  "Well, it's good to see my daughter has a friend with a good head on his shoulders. Thank you for your help."

  "I was glad to be able to help."

  The police arrive, Daphne dries her eyes and pulls herself together, and I sit close and hold her hand while the Jensens explain what happened. I have little to say when it's my turn. I mention Douche took a pot shot at me that missed and Daphne squeezes my hand very tightly.

  Sometimes I guess it's good to be the hero.

  Nine

  "Daphne, don't be ridiculous." Mr. Jensen, Carl to his friends, runs a hand through his hair and turns to face his daughter straight on. "You are off for the rest of the summer, there's no reason you can't join your mother and me down at the condo in Florida."

  "I let that jackass run me away from my last apartment and from the best job I've ever had. I am not running away anymore." Daphne runs a hand through her hair in unconscious imitation of her father. "I'm done letting the bastard ruin my life."

  "Sweetheart, I wish you would reconsider." Mrs. Jensen, Maureen, sits in the wing-back chair shaking her head at both of them. "Wouldn't it be nice to have a little vay-cay in Florida before you return to work? You don't have to look at it like you're running away."

  "You know I always love spending time with you, Mom, but I'm not going this time. I have some work to do before classes start up again, and I don't see the point in leaving town. Adam tried to shoot Nick. The police are bound to pick him up soon."

  "It's too dangerous for you to take chances." Carl runs a hand through his hair again. It's becoming tousled in the process.

  "I don't think it will be dangerous. I think he'll be in jail by morning. Besides, I have Nick to look out for me."

  While Carl chooses to argue his point, Maureen sits quietly and looks me up and down. I'm not certain what she is looking for, but her scrutiny makes me uneasy.

  "Carl, that's enough." Maureen stands, walks to her husband and places a hand on his arm. "Our daughter is a grown woman, and if she wants to stay then she can. Besides, she has this nice young man to look after her. If she wants to stay here with Nick, we should start packing and stop arguing."

  Carl follows his wife upstairs grumbling all the way.

  Daphne watches them go, the frustration in her face fading to a fond smile. It's clear she loves her parents. When she turns to look at me, the smile disappears so abruptly I'm left wondering what I've done to offend her.

  "Oh, Nick, I'm so sorry." She does the hand through the hair thing again and I find it charming. "I didn't even ask you if you mind my staying with you...I mean, here you got shot at because of me and I'm just blithely assuming you want a woman with a crazy ex-coworker--"

  "Daphne, take it easy. Breathe, please." I walk up to her and fold her into a tight hug.

  I can't keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Daphne knows about the insanity which is my life and she doesn't seem to care. I know her regard might not stand up to the test of time, but so what? No one gets any guarantees in this life. I care about this woman, and I'm sick to death of playing it cool. I'll let the future take care of itself. Me, I'll take care of Daphne and see where this is going.

  "But Adam's out there, and I could go to Florida, but I just assumed--"

  "Breathe," I interrupt again before she can get all wound up again. "Look, Daphne, I know the dude's dangerous, but I'm not especially concerned. My crazy life ought to be good for something, and I think it will be enough to give us a heads up when we need it. Besides, I don't want you to go to Florida. I like having you around. If you want us to see this thing through, I'm all in."

  She smiles again, and I can feel the tension in her body begin to relax. Her mouth is very close to mine, and I'm seriously thinking about kissing her.

  Daphne's parents come downstairs with their luggage and the moment is broken. Maureen is looking rather smug and sets down her bag to give both Daphne and me a goodbye hug.

  "You take care of my girl now."

  "I will, Mrs. Jensen."

  "My name is Maureen."

  "I will do my best to keep an eye on her, Maureen."

  "That's better."

  Carl is satisfied with shaking my hand. "Thank you for your help today, Nick. I don't know what we would have done without you."

  "I was glad to be in the right place at the right time."

  I am always relieved when I help someone, but I believe this is the first time I've thought of my situation as more like a gift than a curse. I was truly happy I'd been right place, right time guy today.

  "Punkin', if you change your mind, you just holler and I'll get you on a plane."

  "Thanks, Dad." Daphne hugs her father again. "I'll keep it in mind, but I think I'll be fine."

  We follow them out soon after and I help them get their luggage to the car. I offered to drive them to the airport, but Carl prefers having his car in the long term parking lot ready for when they return. To each their own. In my life, convenience is not something I'm often willing to spend money on.

  "Where's your car?" Daphne is looking in front of her parent's house with a confused expression.

  "I parked it down the street a little. I was in the neighborhood for a fare and I got worried about you, but I didn't want to interrupt your family time for no reason."

  "I'm glad you got worried. I'm starting to think Adam is schizophrenic. He really seems to believe I'm his girlfriend. You should have heard the things he was saying before he heard the police siren."

  "It's possible he is. Either way, he is unpredictable. I'm not sure we should go back to the apartment."

  "Do you need to work more today?"

  "No. I got enough fares. I don't feel bad about taking time off."

  We reach my car, and conversation pauses for a moment while we get in and buckle up.

  "What do you suggest we do?" Daphne cranes her neck around to check for traffic. "You're clear."

  "I think we should book a motel room for the night and check with the police in the morning. If they haven't picked him up by then, we'll make a new plan."

  "Well, it looks like I'll get my little vay-cay after all." She turns to me and grins.

  "Not as much fun as Florida, I'm afraid. Why don't we head down Forty? There are some old motels there on the west side. They're off the beaten path and I can't imagine they're very expensive."

  "It sounds like fun. I always wondered about those places when I drove down Forty to get to work in Avon when traffic on Rockville Road was backed up. They look more historic than seedy, and I love the old-fashioned signs."

  I am constantly amazed by this woman. She turns down a trip to Florida and acts as if staying in a cheap motel is a big adventure. Her positive attitude is contagious and I feel much less my normal gloom-and-doom self.

  We stop in front of a Pita Hut along the way, and Daphne runs in to get us dinner and
drinks. The rest of the ride is torture, as the gyros smell divine and I am suddenly so hungry I could eat a goat. Seriously, I feel like I was a chupacabra in a former life, I'm that hungry.

  As we drive west on US Forty, Daphne spots the Pine Motel and is immediately excited about staying in a place with a green sign shaped like a pine tree. Below the tree, the antique sign reads "room telephones," and there is a hand-painted addition informing us there is free Wi-Fi.

  The place itself is well kept up and charming. A long, L-shaped building made of buff-colored bricks holds the rooms. It has a green awning from one side to the other held up by white columns. The office is made of the same brick and there's a cheerful red arrow-shaped sign pointing the way to the office door. It's a nice place, and I begin to agree mentally with Daphne we might be on an adventure rather than hiding from a crazy man who tried to shoot me.

  At the office, Daphne pulls out her wallet to pay for the room.

  "Hey, now. You paid for dinner, I should get the room."

  "No way, Nick. You are in this mess because of me. I'm not going to have you paying for the room too."

  The room is cheap, so I guess I shouldn't feel too bad about my new role as a kept man. I'll make it up to her tomorrow somehow. Maybe take her out to a nice dinner somewhere. I don't want her thinking I'm broke or something. I've got a nice little nest egg, I'm a little careful is all.

  Under the awning, there are several guests enjoying the evening breeze from lawn chairs. It looks like this motel may have quite a few long-term residents. Not surprising, considering how inexpensive it is.

  Our room is small, and there's only one bed, but I don't mind sharing. There's a small table, a couple chairs, a dinosaur of a TV, the smallest microwave I've ever seen, and a mini fridge. That covers the amenities. It may be small, but it's clean and I can't hear the neighbors at all once we close the door. One thing I can say about the old places, they knew how to build a decent wall back then.

  We get out the food and have a picnic while sitting cross-legged on the bed. Somehow, Daphne seems to make even a cozy old motel room fun. The gyros are every bit as delicious as they smelled, and I put away two in the time it takes Daphne to eat one.

  It's early, but the events of the day have left us both tired. I find a movie on the old television. It's got a little converter box because it isn't digital, but the picture is clear as a bell. Daphne and I lie on the queen-sized bed in all our clothes and watch an old eighties movie called Dirty Rotten Scoundrels. I'd forgotten all about this movie and it's a shame. The entire thing is hilarious. Sometime well before the credits roll, I fall asleep to the sound of Daphne's laughter.

  Ten

  A low patter of monotonous sound. Daphne remains asleep to the sound of a news program on the television. Slipping out of bed as quietly as I can, I pull the drapes to one side and peek out. The sky is a uniform gray and the rain falls soft and steady. It has all the signs of being settled in for the day.

  I take a quick shower and have to use a small bar of motel soap to wash my hair. There aren't any tiny bottles of complimentary shampoo and conditioner; it's not that kind of establishment. It's unpleasant to have to put on my clothes from yesterday, I can't shave, and I have to comb my hair with my fingers, but at least I don't stink.

  Still damp, I sneak out of the motel room, closing the door at a sluggish pace to try to keep the latch from clanking. I have no idea when Daphne fell asleep, and I'd rather not wake her. The latch slides home with a loud click despite my precautions.

  Walking through the gentle rain, I go to the office. The desk clerk sells me coffee and donuts for a modest price. Works for me. The motel is clean, quiet, and cheap; I don't have to get free breakfast on top of it. I head back to our room, dodging puddles in the gravel parking lot. There's a big pickup truck idling in the middle of the lot. Smoke wafts out from the slightly open driver's side window. The dim shape behind the wheel is impossible to distinguish through the fogged windows. Could be someone out for a cigarette, waiting to pick up a guest of the motel, or crazy Adam for all I know.

  I hope it's not Adam.

  Shaking my head, I castigate myself for being paranoid. Surely there's no way the insane bastard could have found us here.

  The bed is empty and the shower is running when I let myself into the motel room. I tried my best, but I must have woken her up. At least I have donuts and hot coffee by way of restitution. Soon she appears, combing her hair as she exits the bathroom.

  "Good morning." Daphne begins to put the comb back in her purse, hesitates, and then offers it to me.

  "Good morning." I take the comb gladly. My hair must look a mess.

  "Donuts!" She grabs one and digs in with enthusiasm.

  "There's coffee too. I brought some sugar, but they were out of creamer."

  "Sugar's good. Thanks."

  We sit at the tiny table and eat, chatting about what we should do next.

  "I've got to get some clean clothes." She picks out a second donut, cake with white icing and chocolate sprinkles. "Do you think we should stop by the apartment?"

  "No. Not unless the police have some good news for us."

  "Oh, yeah! They may have already picked him up."

  Grabbing her phone, she checks with the police station, her face full of hope. As she speaks to a detective I watch her expression fall.

  "No joy?"

  "Nope. He's still out there somewhere."

  In my mind, I see an image of the pickup outside but shake it off. "Then I don't think we should stop at home. I guess the first order of business is to stop somewhere and buy what we need for a couple days."

  "I hate this."

  "I know."

  Try as I might, I can't get the smoker in the truck out of my mind.

  "Daphne, do you know what sort of truck Adam drives?"

  "Do I ever. Before I quit my job in Avon, he'd follow me everywhere. He's got a big dark blue truck."

  "Damn."

  "What's wrong?"

  "You'd better take a peek out the window...try not to be obvious about it."

  She pulls the curtain aside less than an inch and leans forward to look out the crack.

  "Son of a bitch!"

  That settles it. We've got trouble. "Call the police...no, wait."

  "What? What do you mean, wait?"

  My senses have slowed. It's strange to be sitting in a motel room alone with Daphne and have this happen. Though she's still talking, her voice sounds like she's talking under water. Every muscle in my body is tense with the need to move, to flee. I shake my head to try to clear it and the world around me snaps back into normalcy.

  "Nick, what's wrong? Are you all right?"

  "I'm fine. I think we're out of time. Grab your purse. We get out of here first and then we call the cops."

  Purse grabbed, I lead the way to the rear of the motel room. There's an old sliding glass door there, and I hope it is in working order. A sawed off broom handle is in the track, to keep burglars from opening it from the outside, I imagine. I remove the dusty handle, unlock the door, and try to open it. The metal frame squeals in protest, but the door opens enough for Daphne and me to squeeze outside.

  Behind the motel is a rough field and beyond the grass and weeds is the back end of a residential neighborhood facing another street. Taking Daphne's hand, I lead her into the pattering rain and across the field. The long building of the motel hides us from the entire parking lot. All I can do is hope we get out of sight in time.

  We hurry as much as we dare. The ground is uneven and the grass slick. We can't take a straight path because of overgrown brush scattered here and there through the abandoned field. A tug on my hand and I keep Daphne from falling without even thinking about it.

  "All right?" I pause to look at her. She's wet and unhappy but seems uninjured.

  "I'm fine...just stepped in a hole. Let's keep going."

  Soon after the hole, we leave the rough field behind and sneak across someone's backyard to g
et to the street. No one seems to notice us, and we continue to wind into the neighborhood on foot, in an effort to get more distance from the motel and Adam.

  Eventually, we come to a covered bus stop and duck inside to escape the rain.

  "Call the police, I'm going to call Todd."

  He answers on the first ring. "Wassssssup!"

  "You busy? I need some help."

  "I'm out at the airport, looking for a fare, but I'm not on a run. What you need, brah?"

  "Some crazy dude with a gun is after Daphne. We stayed in a motel last night, but he found us."

  "Which motel?"

  Over the phone, I hear Todd start the engine of his car. He's a good guy. Not everyone who hears you are trying to get away from an armed psychopath would be willing to rush to the rescue.

  "The Pine."

  "On Forty?" You still there?"

  "That's the one, and no, we ran out the back. We're at a bus stop on Campbell Dr."

  "On my way. Sit tight." Todd ends the call as soon as he finishes speaking.

  Damn but I'm lucky to have a friend like Todd. No explanations needed, he's just on the way. We got lucky he was at the airport and not on a run. The airport is very close to this neighborhood. He should be here in five or ten minutes.

  "Todd's on his way to pick us up," I say when Daphne finishes speaking to the police. "He'll be here soon...try not to worry."

  "What a nice man."

  "He is."

  "But what do we do then? I was sure the cops would find Adam before this. Maybe I should have gone with my folks. I didn't want Adam to drive me away from my home, but I guess that's what happened anyway."

  "And then what? Come back in a couple weeks and have this happen all over again? I think we're better off dealing with this now."

  "But we aren't dealing with it. We're running."

  "True, but one of your phone calls to the cops might be what gets the bastard caught. Hang in there. You can always change your mind and fly to Florida if it gets too intense."

  "I don't want to do that. I meant what I said yesterday. I'm just wet and tired and discouraged."