by C Thomas Cox
Around the time she finished walking me through her thought process, the flashing red and blue lights of a cruiser bearing the name of a local sheriff's office pulled up behind us. Liz and I glanced at each other blankly. "Could he have trailed us from the site of the explosion?" she asked.
I shook my head. "Doubtful. I've been watching in my rear view for anything out of the ordinary." I didn't expect anything, but I'd learn that the unexpected caused most of my trouble. "Could they have linked your plates to Thomas's?"
"Don't think so," she said. "My car's still registered to my ex." I didn’t realize she'd been married, but I didn't have time to ask her for details.
I considered shoving the gas pedal to the floor, but I didn't want add police evasion to my resume. Besides, I thought it likely that my two days of scruff made me look different enough than the clean-shaven face that the local news probably displayed. Therefore, I drifted to the side of the rural route and shifted the car into park. Within minutes, an acned twenty-something officer appeared at my door.
"Good afternoon, sir...ma'am," he said, leaning his head almost through the rolled-down window.
"How can I help you?" I asked.
"Do you know that your left brake light's out?"
"Thanks so much, officer," Liz said in her sultriest voice. "We didn’t know. You see, Granddad isn't the best at maintaining his car. I'm sure you could show him a thing or two with your strong, masculine hands." She winked at him and smiled like a shy schoolgirl who hoped he'd ask her to the homecoming dance. The way he grinned back, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he asked for her number.
"Just make sure to take care of that lightbulb, sir," he said. I nodded. "And young miss, keep an eye on him for me." He returned her wink.
"Will do," she said. "Hope to see you again sometime."
I watched in the side view mirror as he swaggered back to his car. As he did so, I thanked Liz for covering for us. However, I forgot that I hadn't yet rolled up my window. He turned around and speed-walked back toward me.
I pretended not to notice him, shoved the car into drive, and took off. I couldn't let him ask for my license -- which was back at my house -- or Liz's registration. The registration would arouse his suspicion even more, and we’d be done if he identified me.
Before he had the opportunity to jump into his car and follow us, I merged onto the highway and headed toward the hospital. He'd never find us in that flood of cars cruising at seventy miles per hour. I just prayed that he hadn't noted our tag number.
Chapter Forty-Three
"You were great back there," I said as I glanced at Liz.
"I've spent years learning how to escape from danger," she said. "Besides, I know how to read men. And when I noticed that the officer's eyes spent more time on my chest than my face, I knew I had him."
I chuckled. "You're a pretty resourceful gal. Surprised you relied so much on your brother." I wasn't sure if she was ready for me to invoke Thomas's, but I couldn't help it. Such a strong woman didn't appear to need him.
"You don’t know what it’s like living with men who only want you for one thing or another. Men who suck all the life out of you like an oversized mosquito." She blinked away the moisture that started to pool in her eyes. "He’s the only man who hasn’t used me and then thrown me away."
I wanted to argue with her -- to tell her that it would've been better if Thomas had abandoned her. At least then he wouldn’t have been able to continue to abuse her. Instead, I said, "I'm sorry."
"I bet you’ll do the same after you’re back home." She turned away.
I wanted to tell her she was wrong…that I was planning to continue to support her. That I was going to do all I could to help her overcome her horrible past. That, however, would've been a fib.
I did plan on taking her to the hospital. I also was going to return her car after I used it for my own purposes. But that was the extent of any involvement I planned to have in her life. Though I didn’t want to see her in pain, I was so focused on my own problems that I hadn’t planned on maintaining our relationship…a relationship for which she obviously longed. And I hated myself for it.
When I remained silent, she said, "That's what I figured."
Although I wanted to lie to her, I couldn't bring myself to do it. She'd opened her history -- and her heart -- to me, and I wanted to do the same.
"I'm sorry for not answering faster," I said. "My mind's swimming right now, and I'm not sure what the future holds...or if I'm even destined to have a future."
She placed her left hand on mine, and we silently endured -- and shared -- our pain. "Jim, I don't know you well. But I'm hopeful that you'll be the one to break the chain that so many man have wrapped around me." I gazed into her thoughtful, gray eyes. Eyes that had seen the worst of humanity. Eyes that withstood the pain of a thousand lives.
I exited the highway and pulled into a convenience store adorned with a neon sign touting its fried chicken. She pulled her wallet out of the glove box and headed inside. "Don't forget to use cash," I said. We didn't want to risk the police locating us by tracing her credit card activity.
I remained in the car and looked at my feet. I didn’t want anyone to recognize me. I couldn't let the authorities return me to Oak Ridge -- at least not until I ensured Claire's safety.
While waiting for Liz's return, I imagined what life would be like if I grew up like her -- in a house with no real parents. Picturing such a childhood was nearly impossible.
When I broke my arm after falling off of the jungle gym, my mom made it to school in record time. Before I tried out for the high school baseball team, my dad played catch with me every night after work. After my landmine accident knocked me out of the Army, my parents were the first ones to greet me after my flight home.
What if my mom was too drunk to take me to the emergency room when I broke my arm? What if my dad wasn't around to play catch? What if my parents hoped I didn't make it back from Vietnam at all? It was too much to fathom.
I smiled when Liz opened the car door a few minutes later and the smell of deep fried poultry wafted inside. In addition to picking up the disposable mobile phone that I requested, she held a roll of gauze, some antibiotic ointment, and a box of fried chicken. Finally, something went right.
As soon as she closed her door, I glanced at her hand. It looked worse than ever.
Without complaining about the pain, she carefully applied ointment to my wound and fastened the self-adhering gauze square to my hand. She then programmed her phone number into my new disposable phone and handed me a drumstick. "This is fantastic," I mumbled after I took my first bite of chicken. I held the bone in one hand, gripped the steering wheel in the other, and took off.
She tried to talk, but the thigh meat inside her mouth prevented her from doing so. We both laughed, and she nearly spit out some of the chicken.
I clung onto the steering wheel, and I wouldn't let a minute pass without looking in the rearview mirror. "I doubt he can find you," Liz said after she swallowed. "The cops don't even know where we are."
"I just can't stop worrying about him."
"There's no way he found Thomas's place," she said. "I was the only person, other than Thomas, who knew about his home. He killed everyone else that had been there."
I was sure she was right. Even Half-Ear couldn't have discovered our location. Nevertheless, I was certain I saw him outside the shack. I'd stake my life on it. But did I see the real Half-Ear? Or did his image, lodged deep inside my mind, make it appear that way? I wasn't sure.
Chapter Forty-Four
I dropped Liz off about a hundred feet away from the Emergency Room entrance. Before she left, she promised me that she'd call as soon as they finished treating her.
To keep admissions from identifying her and somehow linking her to Thomas -- and, by extension, to me -- she left her wallet inside the car. She planned to use her deceased mother's name and Social Security Number, and to pretend she had no medical insurance
. We knew that, per Federal law, the hospital would have to treat her regardless of her insurance status. And we hoped they wouldn't research her mother while Liz was there. As soon as the doctor was done, Liz would find a way to escape.
I, on the other hand, planned to find out-of-the-way parking inside the hospital complex where I would await her phone call. I didn't have enough time to drive to my house. I wasn't sure what I would do -- or say -- if I did.
I was certain that Claire was aware of my disappearance. Oak Ridge likely told her before they contacted the police. Although I hadn't taken the time to consider it previously, I was sure she was terrified.
Claire was in favor of committing me, but I was confident that doing so didn't mean she had entirely abandoned the love for me that she once felt. Sending me to Oak Ridge wasn't necessarily about getting me out of her life. I believe that Claire genuinely thought it would be best for me. That inpatient treatment was the only way I could fully rid my mind of the demons of my past.
Since I was no longer undergoing treatment, I was concerned that Claire would think that I'd hurt either myself or someone else. Or that the man who escorted me out of Oak Ridge caused me harm. I wanted to comfort her...to let her know I was okay...that I hadn't hurt anyone.
Thomas was dead, of course. And I'll admit I was complicit in the plan to torch his home. But I never intended to kill him. Even if I did, however, I'd be justified. Regardless, it was a detail that wasn't relevant to what I wanted to communicate to Claire. At least not at that point.
I picked up the disposable phone and dialed Claire's mobile number. I stared at the numbers on the screen for a minute or two before pressing the green call button. After two rings, I heard her somber voice through the speaker. "Hello." I didn't speak. "Hello. Is anybody there?"
I had planned to keep the call short. To make sure she was safe. To tell her I was alive. To tell her I'd be in touch again when I could. Instead, though, all of the pain I'd endured since I was committed burst out like water from a busted fire hydrant. I couldn't speak. Instead, violent sobs took control of my body.
"Jimmy, is that you?"
The sound of her voice...the compassion that returned for a moment...made me crack a smile. I took a couple deep breaths and said, "Hi."
"Oh my God, Jimmy, I was so worried about you! Are you okay? Did that guy...Thomas...hurt you?"
I longed to embrace her and hold her close. I wanted the comfort that only her arms could bring. I yearned to tell her everything would be okay. She was my partner, and hearing her voice made me realize how much easier the past few days would've been if only I'd have been able to talk to her.
"He was a horrible man," I said. "But I'm safe now. He'll never be able to hurt me again." I cradled the phone with both of my hands. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Just worried about you." I was so stupid. I should've just told her about Half-Ear the first time he'd appeared. She would've helped me through it. "Where are you? I'll pick you up."
Without thinking, I hung up.
More than anything, I wanted to see Claire. But I wanted to see the old Claire...the one who would help me without casting judgment. The one who wouldn't drive me back to Oak Ridge.
Before I gave Claire the chance to re-commit me, I had to make sure that Half-Ear would never hurt her. Now that Thomas was out of the picture, tracking down Half-Ear was my life's purpose. And I convinced myself that I wouldn't give up until he was gone...forever.
Chapter Forty-Five
I didn’t answer the phone the five times Claire tried to call me back. I hoped she'd assume I was out of a service area...and that she trusted I was telling the truth when I said I was okay.
I didn't have the luxury of dwelling on Claire's feelings, though. Instead, I needed to figure out how to get rid of Liz once the doctors treated her. I couldn't drag her into my mess. She'd already suffered too much to have to deal with my assailant.
Abandoning Liz entirely, though, was no longer part of my plan. I'd merely return her safely to her home, deal with Half-Ear, and then reach back out to her -- once I was safe -- to see what else I could do to help. With Half-Ear's penchant for tracking me down, I figured it wouldn't take long to find him. I expected he was already staking out my home.
I doubted Liz would consent to my desire to leave her, however. She'd likely put up a fuss until I let her tag along. After all, she'd say, her brother was a serial killer. She could deal with the aggressor who was harassing me. Regardless, I grabbed her registration from the glove box and stared at her address...an address that I hoped to soon use.
Without warning, I heard a tap against my window. My heart nearly popped out of my chest, as I was certain he had found me. I jerked my head toward the glass and was shocked to find a pig-tailed five-year-old staring at me behind red-rimmed glasses. She waved and then tapped again. I rolled down the window.
"Sir," she said. "Aren't you the silver man they're lookin' for on TV?"
My jaw dropped, and my mouth hung silently open for a bit. I couldn't believe it. Oak Ridge, the police, and my wife were all trying to locate me, and the first person to do so was this little girl.
When I overcame the initial shock, I looked behind her. When I didn't see anyone, I asked, "Where are your parents?"
"Daddy's inside the hospital, sir. He's with my brother Jacob. Jacob's got a can-a-cer."
I scratched my chin. "If they're in the hospital, then why are you out here?"
She looked at her sneakered feet. "Daddy told me to stop buggin' him. Said he needs to focus on Jacob and he couldn't get me a snack. So I snuck out."
"You mean you ran away?"
She shrugged. "Guess so." She winked. "Kinda like you." Although our situations weren't exactly identical, her assessment was accurate. "Why'd you run away?"
I ran my hand through my hair and scratched the back of my head. "I needed to help somebody. As a matter of fact, I still do."
I grabbed a five-dollar-bill from Liz's wallet, opened the car door, and reached out my hand. The girl latched onto my index finger, and she allowed me to walk her toward the hospital. "What's your name?" I asked.
She looked up at the sky for a few seconds. "Mommy told me never to tell strangers my name. But I...I figure you're no stranger...you're Mr. Silver." I admired the thought she put into revealing her moniker. "I'm Clarissa, but you can call me Claire."
Of course that's your name, I thought. Couldn't it be anything else?
"Well, I'm pleased to meet you, Miss Claire."
"Likewise, Mr. Silver, sir." She looked up at hospital's main entrance. "Why are we going back into the hop-si-taw? Daddy doesn't wanna see me...'member?"
I couldn't help chuckling. "I'm sure he just needed a little break. He's so busy tending to your brother that he couldn't take care of you right then."
"But I just wanted a snack."
"I know." I crouched down next to her. "That's why we're here."
She jumped so high it appeared as though I'd just sprinkled her with Pixie Dust. "Thanks, Mr. Silver!" She wrapped her arms around my chest and squeezed.
I gave her a quick pat on the back and said, "Let's get going."
After walking a bit further, I paused in a grassy area just outside the entrance and stooped back down. "Can you do me a huge favor?" I asked.
She jerked her head up and down like one of those bobble-head dolls.
"Can you keep my name -- and how you know who I am -- a secret?"
"I'm good at keepin' secrets," she said. I ruffled her hair, and we kept going.
We walked through the automatic glass door, and I kept my head down as we passed the information desk. I made a left and headed down the hallway. We stopped when we reached a gourmet coffee kiosk.
"Pick one," I said as I lifted her up and showed her a basket on the counter that held assorted snack-sized packs of cookies and chips. She grabbed one containing four Oreo cookies and handed it to a cashier who was too focused on the texts coming through her smartphone to
recognize me from the news. I set Claire down, paid, and handed her the Oreos.
“Four zero four,” she said.
“What?”
“That’s Jacob's room. Four zero four.”
“You’re a smart little girl.”
She smiled. “That’s what daddy says.”
I did my best to avoid eye contact as we wandered the halls in search of the nearest elevator bank. Once we found one, we ventured inside the empty car and I let Claire push the illuminated number four. “Wee!” she said as we began our ascent up three floors.
After reaching the second floor, the elevator stopped and two twenty-something female nurses entered. They took turns glancing at me and then at each other. "Can I help you?" I asked.
They both giggled. "You ever visited Oak Ridge?" asked one.
I stuck my trembling hand in my pocket. "Do you mean that looney bin on the hill?" They giggled some more. "Not me. Why do you ask?"
"You just look familiar, that's all."
"Guess I have one of those faces," I said.
The elevator reached the fourth floor, and one of the two nurses said, "You have a cute granddaughter!" as the doors slid open.
"Thanks," I said.
They started to walk ahead of us, but they had only taken a few steps when Claire burst out, "But he's not..." I put my finger over her lips, but the damage was already done.
"What did you say?" They both turned around.
"He's not my grandpa." I froze, expecting her to give away my identity. I regretted my decision to trust a five-year-old -- even one as polite as Claire. But when she said, "He's my friend," I reconsidered. The nurses smiled, turned back around, and left, and I gave Claire's tiny fist a bump. She led me toward Jacob's room, and I kept my head down the whole way.