Marilyn (4 page)

ELEVEN

                                                                                                                                                                                    'Let me get you something dry to wear, it won't be much, but it will be better than the soaking wet clothes you've got on,' regarded Elwood.

'I have suitcases in the boot of my car, I packed enough clothes to last a lifetime.'

They both smiled at each other.

'Well, it’s a bit wet and dark to go searching. Would you mind something that I've got here? They're clean and pressed,' he said, keeping the same smile.

'No, not at all, that would be really wonderful. Thank you.'

Elwood stood, ready to leave the room.

Marilyn viewed the room from behind bloodshot eyes, the world was a rocky blur, where focus seemed a thing of the past. She pushed herself upright off the sofa, loitering, the wet from her jeans sinking into the skin of her thighs. She could feel the goose bumps chafing against the damp denim as she moved. Her eyes roved like bleary searchlights hunting for nothing specific. They stopped. The photographs on the mantelpiece demanded attention. Their golden frames gleaming under the orange spell of the pendulous light. Others hung from the wall off crooked nails and bent hooks, all different shapes, colours and sizes. Elwood Bailey was indeed a family man. She wondered about the people in the pictures, who they were, where they were. The walls hadn't been decorated in a long time. The wall paper was a rain-washed berry red, with a black border along the top and bottom that went around the whole room. It didn't look professional, but it looked tidy enough.

Marilyn watched her hands as they shook. The shaking wasn't as bad as it had been an hour ago, but it was still distracting. She gripped her fingertips with the opposite hand and squeezed until they turned a white shade of pink. It didn't do much good. Marilyn thought about Jack. She was calmer now. The drink had helped a little. She rubbed the nightmare from her eyes as she traipsed around the room nervously, wheezing with a sluggish chest, readying herself with a warrior's heart for what the night was going to bring. She walked over to the photographs and picked them up, looking at each one individually, inspecting the faces, tracing the happy smiles with her finger, thinking back to a time of her life when her photographs told joyful stories.

Elwood strolled in, holding folded clothes in his arms. His face void of emotion.

'They're not much but I hope these will be OK.'

Marilyn didn't look, her finger hovering over the face of a bright and happy teenager.

'They'll be fine, thank you.'

'They were my wife's, but they should fit.'

She could hear the sadness in his voice. She put the picture down, turned and walked across to him.

'Thank you for everything, I don't know what I would have done without you. If you hadn't answered the door. I… I...'

'Hey, hey. It's OK. Here. Put these on. I'll make us coffee, and we can figure something out, OK?'

'Yes, thank you, Elwood.'

Elwood handed her a pair of faded denim jeans, a white blouse, clean woollen socks, and a thick, black knitted cardigan. He closed the door behind him as he left.

She undressed slowly, paying no attention to her cold and quivering body.

***

Elwood navigated the corridors with ease, strumming his fingers on his chest, twisting and turning left and right. He led himself to a small kitchen area. The floor was laid with alternating black and white square ceramic tiles. It was clean and compact with a separate dining area. He reached into the top cupboard, pulled down two mugs and set them on the worktop. Everything was arranged just as June had left it. The coffee, tea, and sugar all had their own compartments. Everything had its own little home in the kitchen.
What a woman she was
, he thought. He boiled the kettle, pulled out a flowery cushioned seat at the table and waited patiently, rubbing his hand across the spotted, plastic table cloth, carefully thinking of his next move. Their next move. He made two overly strong coffees and made his way back to Marilyn.

***

When Elwood returned he was carrying two steaming mugs.

'Here you go, I don't know if you have sugar and milk, but I put some in anyway.'

'That'll be fine. Thank you.'

She gladly accepted the coffee and they both sat down. Marilyn wrapped both hands around the mug and let the hot steam billow against her face, smelling the wonderful sweet smell. She took a loud slurp of her drink, it was the way Jack had always done it. She laughed, fracturing the lull.

The storm passed fiercely overhead, whipping against the brick motel walls without care or respect for humanity, making them both jump.

'Tell me about Jack, Marilyn. I'd like to hear about him,' Elwood enquired, truthfully.

     'He's a great kid,' she said, blowing the steam from around the ring of the cup. 'He's smart and funny. Caring and sensitive. He always manages to find the good in people, no matter what. He's trusting and thoughtful, always putting others before himself,' she answered, happily, a smile curling in the corners of her mouth like a gentle wave washing over the shore.

     'Do you have a picture of him?'

'I... I don't. Not on me. It's in my purse, in the car.' She took her first sip. It tasted damn good. 'He's handsome, takes after his father. That's the only thing, thank God.'

     'Hey, he sounds like a wonderful boy, and lucky, too. To have a mother like you.'

Marilyn lifted her head from the hypnotic aroma of her coffee mug.

'Thanks, but I wouldn't be so sure of that.'

'Don't sell yourself short. I can tell a good person when I see one. We'll get him back, don't you worry about that.'

He sipped his coffee, his brain ticking over.

'There are only two ways out of here, Marilyn. Back the way you came or to head to the freeway. But to do that you have to pass through the next town. It's a couple of hours' drive. My guess is that they're heading toward the freeway, to avoid the local authorities.' He took a long sip of the piping hot coffee. 'The phone lines are down here, and they may be out in town, too. There's no way of telling.'

Marilyn was nodding, hanging on his every word.

'We
have
to get to town, I mean.' She got to her feet, her drink almost spilling. 'Jack could be there right now. We have to leave now, Elwood. I have to go.'

'Marilyn, I know this is probably going to sound stupid to you, but you need to rest. When was the last time that you slept?' Elwood replied, keeping himself firmly planted to his chair.

'Sleep? You think I can sleep?' she spat furiously, raising her arms and tipping coffee over the side of the mug. 'My son is missing and you want me to rest? Jesus, he could be anywhere, anything could have happened to him, he's out there all alone, Jack, my eight-year-old son, with some fucking maniac in this fucking storm. I don't know if he is alive or hurt or even…'

She ran out of breath and broke down into a fit of tears. Her body convulsed and buckled as she fought back her breathless cries. Elwood rushed over to her, threw his arms around her and held her close, one hand holding the back of her head, he whispered into her ear.

'Shhh… shhh. It's OK, It's OK. We'll find him. OK? We'll find Jack.'

He continued to hold her close.

'The storm sounds like it's passing, but right now, it is hell out there. We won’t get ten feet.'

Her body stiffened around Elwood's heartening nuzzle. She knew he was right, but didn't want to accept it.

'We can leave within the hour. It'll give us time to pack a few things and then we'll drive to town, but we will take my Jeep and I'll drive. And you have to promise me you'll at least try and rest. Do we have a deal?'

Marilyn gently pushed herself away from the warm embrace, her tears had stopped. She sniffed hard and wiped the watery sadness from her face.

'Deal.'

'Let’s go and get Jack back.'

TWELVE

Jack tried to keep his mind as busy as possible, to take it anywhere but inside the car. Thinking of all of his mom, his dad, his friends, his favourite T.V shows, anything and everything. Jack leaned in close to the window, seeing his warm breath hit and dissipate against the streaky glass. The rain maintained its steady downpour but it was weakening, losing its barbaric lustre. It pounded against the roof of the car like hammers on a steel drum in an opera, charged by a blind conductor. He peered out at the venomous sky, what he could see of it, at least. It was becoming less deadly with each passing mile. He had just about caught a glimpse of a broken signpost a few miles back. They were closing in on a town.

He turned his head to look at O'Sullivan, he was in an unblinking trance, staring at the road, his mouth twitching with the occasional squeak of the wipers. Jack carefully folded his arms across his stomach, slowly tucked one arm under the other and grappled quietly for the door handle. He found it. He slid two fingers underneath and tugged. Nothing. The door didn't budge. He captured his disappointment in the creases of his face, but made no noise. He released one finger at a time, making sure not to let the handle snap back. It didn't work. His moist finger slipped and the handle snatched backwards, its stiff plastic slapping against the door.

'David, what are you doing?' O'Sullivan growled, glaring at Jack with wide eyes.

     'There was a draught, I was just checking the door to see if it was closed properly,' Jack answered, immediately

     'Well?'

     'Well, what?' Jack replied, trying to wipe the stroppy tone from his words.

     'Was it closed properly?' O’Sullivan barked.

Jack jumped.

'No. It wasn't. It’s closed now, though. The draught has stopped. I'm Sorry. I didn't mean to make a noise, I won't do it again.'

'You better not, do you hear me, boy?'

'Yes, sir.'

O'Sullivan focused his attention back to the road, losing himself, twitching with the squeak.

THIRTEEN

They drank the rest of their coffee, not waiting for it to cool. They silently studied each other from opposite ends of the room.

Elwood's thoughts kept circling back to a few hours earlier. He questioned himself and took a deep breath.

'Marilyn,' Elwood started. 'That man you saw at the restaurant, you know, the one with the scar? I… I can't be sure, but I think he stayed here, about five hours ago. I recognised him from your description of the cut under his eye.'

Marilyn sat upright, tense, the anger and confusion so blatantly obvious on her face.

'You what? Are you serious?' she demanded. 'How could you? Was Jack...?'

'He was alone, Marilyn,' Elwood interrupted gently. 'Jack wasn't with him. That's why I can't be sure it's the same person.' Elwood cleared his throat and rubbed at his lips. 'But it certainly sounded a lot like that guy from the way you described him. A mark under his eye, a torn and ragged jacket. There was something off about the guy, I knew pretty much as soon as I saw him. I felt like... I don't know, like he was hiding something.' He dropped his head. 'I just didn't know what. You know, I didn't really have any reason to question his motives, he was seeking shelter from the storm. I'm sorry, Marilyn.'

Marilyn, softening, placed her coffee mug on the floor next to her feet, the cold trickles of spillage dripping onto the carpet.

'Did he give you a name, did he give you anything, anything at all, Elwood?' she pressed, taking charge. 'Did he use a name?'

     'He said it was David. David O'Sullivan, if my memory serves me correctly. Now, I don't know if that's an alias, or what.' He threw his arms into the air, palms facing the ceiling. 'Like I said, he did seem like he had something to hide. So that may not be his real name. We can check the log-in book, but I'm pretty certain that's what he said. I'm usually quite good with names and faces.'

Marilyn swept her fingers through her hair, keeping her body active, keeping the swarm of emotions at bay.

'Can you remember what room he stayed in, what number?'

'It was Number Five, it's the best double room I have here. I put him in it because I felt bad for the guy. Now, I wish I had hit him across the head with my bat. Bastard.'

'Have you been there since, to his room?'

Elwood raised and shook his head, keeping his eyes to the carpet.

'I haven't. If I'm truthful, it was your knocking that woke me back up. I thought it was him changing his mind about breakfast. 'He gave me the key deposit as..' He stopped. '...As a tip and I told him to post them back through the letterbox.'

'Right, OK. Where is it? I want to see his room. I want to see where he kept Jack,' she ordered, not taking a single breath.

'Marilyn. I didn't see Jack. This may not be the same man. He was alone.'

     'You don't know that for sure,' Marilyn enforced. 'He could have hidden Jack in the car, without you seeing. Did you see the car, can you remember what he was driving?'

'I can't, I'm sorry,' Elwood stated sullenly.

'Never mind about that, I want to see his room. Come on, let’s go.'

Elwood dragged his sweaty palms down the front of his shirt twice, checking them.

     'OK. Let’s go and get the key. We'll check it out. But I want you to wait outside while I check, OK? I'll go in first. Just in case.'

'Just in case?'

'Just… wait outside.'