It's the first time in a long time, that anyone has complimented her.
'What size are you?' River asks.
'What?' Maddy says, not really understanding the question.
'Clothes', River says. 'What size do you take?'
'You're going to buy me a new outfit as well as take me to dinner? What are we doing after, the movies?'
Maddy wipes tears from her eyes. She can't believe how ridiculous the situation is she's found herself in.
'Hell Maddy, you never know. I reckon you'd just about like that too.'
She doesn't want to admit it to herself, but she really would. It's been a long time since she's been out for dinner with someone, but she'd love it even more, if the person that was offering it to her, wasn't only doing so because he needed a companion, or because she looked like she needed the fun.
'Four, six, eight?' River says, 'what is it?'
'It depends on the clothes.'
'Well what is it in normal clothes?'
'It changes. I could be a size four or a size eight depending on the brand. It's not that simple.'
'Make it simple', River says.
'Six', Maddy says. 'But they might not fit. You want to make absolutely sure, get one of each size, or better still, take me with you.'
River gets up off the bed.
'Your image is going to be all over the news, and anyway, dressed like that you stick out like a sore thumb. I'm going to get you a new look, but while I do so, I'm going to have to leave you here I'm afraid.'
River pulls the handcuffs out of his back pocket.
'Wait', Maddy says. 'I thought you said you wouldn't handcuff me if I did what you said?'
'I won't, but I need to know I can trust you', River says. 'At the moment, if I leave, and I leave you here, I know you'll take the first opportunity to get as far away from here as possible, and I can't let that happen I'm afraid. When I'm with you, I won't need to handcuff you, but when I'm not, I've got to do it for my own safety. At least until I know I can trust you not to run away.'
'I won't run away', Maddy says.
'Yes you will', River says. 'Everyone would.'
'Please.' Maddy says desperately, as River slips the handcuff over one slender wrist.
'I won't be long Maddy, I promise', he says. 'When I come back, I'll have a new outfit for you, and we can go for dinner and get to know each other better. Now, sit down, please.'
Maddy sits down, and River attaches the handcuffs to the radiator.
'I won't forget this, you know.' Maddy says.
'Oh, I know', River says. 'I'm hoping you never do.'
River takes the pillow out of its case, and folds the case in half several times. When Maddy sees what he's doing, she begins to protest.
'Please, that's not necessary.'
'I hope it won't be after today. You prove to me later on that I can trust you, then this is the last time I'll have to do this.'
As River crouches down to delicately tie the gag around her mouth, she sees into his eyes for the very first time. They are as blue as ice cold water, and she can see lines in his irises that look like shooting stars. For a moment, she feels like kissing him. Disgusted with herself, and confused by the sensation, she looks away instead, making the movement clear.
River puts his hand on her chin and moves her face back to where it started, but still she refuses to look at him.
'You're a pretty girl Madeleine', he says to her. 'I hope enough people have told you that before.'
With the gag securely fastened, and Maddy bolted to the radiator, River clicks on the TV, making sure the volume is just loud enough to muffle out any potential noises that Maddy can make around the gag, but not too loud that it attracts attention. He skips through the channels until he finds the news, broadcasting a continuation of the events that happened that morning.
'Well, would you look at that', he says. 'You're finally famous Maddy. You've made it onto TV.'
Maddy doesn't want to indulge him by watching, but she can't help herself. In the corner of the screen, they are showing on repeat, the grainy mobile phone footage the obese African-American woman filmed, of River and Maddy approaching her car. Maddy can't quite believe that the woman in the picture is her, not least that the balaclava clad man capturing her, is the man still in the same room. She is horrified at how awful she looks.
River places the remote control out of reach, unlocks the door, and blows Maddy a kiss.
'Enjoy the show, and don't go running away on me now', he says. 'I think I'll miss you if you do.'
River closes the door, takes a good look around to see if anyone is watching, and then peers through the window to see how much of Maddy he can see, which he is relieved to find out is nothing. The thick brown curtains on the inside of the room, perhaps once a lighter colour, are good for keeping out both light, and prying eyes.
One of the cars has also disappeared, which makes River feel that little bit happier still about leaving her. The situation isn't ideal, but he hasn't got much choice. He needs to change her outfit, and he can't do that if she's with him. It's a risk keeping her with him anyway, and he hopes he won't regret it. She's a bargaining tool, that's for sure, but he hopes that she doesn't turn into a burden. He hopes that taking her out, instead of leaving her tied up inside won't come back to bite him. There is something about her that intrigues him, and something that makes him want to get to know her. Something aside from those almond flecks in her emerald green eyes. River has a good feeling in his gut, and when he feels something with his body, rather than thinking something with his brain, he knows he's just got to follow it.
Maddy on the other hand tries to shy away from the feelings she has in her gut as often as possible. It's how she likes to keep herself disciplined, and unfortunately it's largely responsible for turning her into the cautious, inflexible, unhappy person she is, and can't ever remember being otherwise.
Inside the room, Maddy watches the news footage with tears streaming down her eyes, moistening the folded pillow case wrapped around her mouth. Some of her colleagues are being interviewed and they are definitely not holding back on how they feel, perhaps with every belief that she won't be returned safely.
Chapter 8
Officer Garland stands by the office printer, a machine that has been repaired so many times, almost none of the original pieces remain inside. It is, like most of the other equipment in the department, and some of the officers too, tired and worn. Budget cuts and diversion of funds in general, have meant that computer systems and general equipment upgrades promised before the new millennium, are still waiting to be delivered. It's been a crusade for Frank and several of his closest colleagues over the years, but officer Garland doesn't let it bother him. He's an old fashioned man that drinks coffee black, and makes do with what he has.
When the printer finally decides to spit out the information, Garland gives it the once over, taps the machine proudly, and starts along the corridor to Frank's office.
River finds himself wedged in between rows of women's clothes, and women themselves trying to find a bargain. He's chosen a store that's the complete opposite of Maddy's style, and he'd dearly love to get this over with as soon as possible, but it's the first time he's ever done this, and besides which, he's left the revolver underneath the front seat of the car. Luckily, one of the assistants sees him looking out of place, and comes over to help.
'Can I help you sir?' she says, a little suspicious of someone outside of her normal client bracket.
'I'm looking for some clothes for my girlfriend', he lies, 'It's kind of a surprise.'
'Well aint she the lucky one', the woman next to him says, and smiles up at River. 'I wish my boyfriend was as generous as you.'
'As cute too', says the woman on the other side, perhaps her sister, considering the similarities. They both share a giggle and go back to hunting through the rows.
'What kind of thing are you looking for?' the assistant says, moving quickly to the ra
ils.
'I don't know', River says. 'Something fashionable. Some jeans, T-shirts, no dresses, she's got enough of those already. Something with a little colour, you know, she loves colour.'
'Something with colour', the assistant repeats, already searching rapidly through the rails of clothes and lifting out possibilities. The speed at which she works makes River dizzy. 'What size is she?'
'Well that's just it', River says. 'She reckons it changes depending on which brand she buys. I had a look this morning and found a dress in a size six, but it might be best if I get a range of sizes, just in case.'
'You can always come back if they don't fit', the assistant says, her arms now full of potential items.
'I'm not going to be about much longer than today I'm afraid. We're making a road trip all the way to Mexico to meet up with her family for her Granddaddy's ninetieth birthday. Can you believe that, ninety years old?' River lies.
One of the sister's shakes her head.
'Our granddaddy made it to ninety-six', says the other. 'He got kicked out of his nursing home at ninety four, for trying to make it with one of the nurses.'
'How about that?' River says.
The assistant has finished.
'Ok', she says, 'I got a selection. You want to go through and choose what you like?'
'You got them in all different sizes? River says.
'They go from four up to eight', she says. 'Jeans, t-shirts, tops, shirts, the lot. The only thing I haven't picked is dresses.'
'Well then', River says. 'I figure I'll take it all, just to be on the safe side.'
'All of it?' the assistant asks, as if she hasn't heard correctly.
'I reckon so. Anything she doesn't like she can always donate to someone else who needs it.'
'Well aint that charitable', one of the sisters says, both of whom have lost interest in what they were originally doing and are now standing either side of River. 'Good looking, generous, rich, you sure this girl deserves you, honey?'
'I reckon we just about deserve each other', he says.
'Well aint that cute. I reckon he's in love', one sister says to the other.
'I bet she's pretty', the other sister says. 'You got a photo of her.'
'I aint, but I'll tell you a secret', River says, 'she's been on the TV a lot recently.'
'No shit!' the older sister says. 'What is she an actress or something?'
'Something like that', River says.
'Well come on, spill the beans!' the older sister says excitedly. 'We won't tell no-one, we promise.'
'I can't do that I'm afraid girls, no matter how pretty you both are. I've got to respect the wishes of the lady.'
'A gentleman too', the two women agree.
The assistant has finished bagging up the clothes. River takes a roll of one hundred dollar bills out of his pocket and hands over three bills, while the sister's look on in astonishment. One of them strokes his arm, just because she is desperate to touch him. When he catches her, she pulls it quickly away, as if his arm were on fire.
'You have all that money and don't carry it around in a wallet?' she says.
'I never keep hold of it for long enough to justify it', River says.
He thanks the assistant, says goodbye to the girls, who all look at his bum when he walks away, and heads out of the store and back to his car, with armfuls of women's clothes.
He throws the bags into the trunk, shuts it again and heads back to the high street. There is one more thing he's looking for and it doesn't take him all that long to find it. High streets in this part of America seem to be full of shops that cater for this kind of thing.
'Howdy', the assistant says as he enters the store, tipping his hat to greet him.
'Hey', River says, and walks up to the counter. On a ledge above the old man, a TV replays footage of that mornings bank raid, while an in studio team attempt to guess the direction in which the fourth robber has taken his hostage. It's essentially repeated information mixed with a huge dose of conjecture designed to captivate rather than inform.
'They found that poor girl yet?' River says when he sees it, never breaking stride. 'We heard it this morning in the car on the way up.'
'No', the aged assistant says, 'but I reckon people are more interested in finding the robber. Half of the shit they've been saying is about his arms.'
'His arms', River says surprised, suddenly becoming conscious of his own.
'His arms. I know, aint that ridiculous. They're going on about how he's got the best arms out there of anyone they've ever seen, as though that's something newsworthy. I don't know how they can figure that out anyway when all they've got is this grainy mobile phone footage, and an obese African-American woman's testimony. 'I wasn't scared' she says. 'I just wanted to be wrapped in those arms.' His arms. I mean can you believe it? Four people die, thankfully only one of them a civilian, an off-duty police officer no less, killed with his own gun, and they go on about this guy's arms, as though he's some kind of TV soap love interest. That woman he kidnapped, oh boy, I don't know how much you heard, but apparently she's got a family that have practically disowned her, none of whom want to say anything to camera, she's got no friends that have come forward neither, and everyone where she works is having a party because they can't stand the sight of her. Suffice to say, she isn't well liked at all, despite apparently being worth a fortune. Not that those two things should be in anyway linked. However, that stationery company she practically owns is worth a hell of a lot of money, and then some, and they reckon that this robber knew all of that in the first place, and the police are just waiting for the ransom demand.'
He clicks off the TV. 'Anyway, here I am going on. How can I help you?'
River smiles. 'That was quite a rant', he says.
'News just isn't what it used to be', the old man says. 'Or maybe it's just that the people that report it have changed. I can't work it out.'
'Maybe it's both', River says.
'His arms', the old man mutters again, unable to let it go. 'Go on, what can I do for you.'
'Well I aint sure if you can do anything', River says, 'but I figured I'd give it a try.'
'Well go on', the old man says, jerking his chin up and down in a nod, and lifting up bushy eyebrows.
'It's a little bit of a sensitive matter, and I'm not sure if I should even be doing it or not. My sister's in hospital.'
'I'm sorry to hear that', the assistant says, his voice genuine.
'Yeah so are we. We've been driving all night to come and see her.' River lies.
'How can I help you son?'
'Well, she's got cancer.'
'Oh my', the old man says, as though he's had first hand experience of exactly the same thing, and he knows what River must be going through. He shakes his head.
'Yeah well, sometimes life deals you a rough hand', River says, smiling ironically. 'Anyway, they say she won't last much more than a month or two, and I want to do something that'll make her feel normal again, you know. Just before the end.'
'Well that's a very decent thought. The world needs more people like you', the assistant says.
River's performance is so convincing, it makes him feel awkward enough, that he doesn't know what to do with his hands. First of all he lays them on the counter in front of him, then he fumbles for something to hold, eventually settling on the remote control.
'So she used to have this beautiful, long blond hair, almost reached down to her back, and now she's lost it all because of the chemo', River says, gesticulating with his hands, to enhance his performance. 'I don't know if you do already, but you ought not to smoke, what that poison does to you is unimaginable.'
'Oh I know, believe me', the assistant says, his hands now in his pockets to make sure they don't escape. 'I've never smoked a thing in my life.'
'Do you have anything that might be suitable for her? Something preferably of decent enough quality to make it look real?'
'Real?' the assistant says, and lifts up hi
s eyebrows again. 'Most of the stuff we have on display is designed for fancy dress parties, or novelty costumes.' One of his hands momentarily escapes from its enclosure to display the contents of the shop. 'You know the kind of stuff that gets used once and then thrown away. We've got wigs of all different colours up here, but I guess that's not the kind of thing you're looking for.'
'Not really', River says.
'Other than that, we've got some old stock downstairs that we cleared out from the shop floor a few years ago, because our average customer just couldn't afford it. I suppose there could be something down there that might be more suitable for you, if you're happy to wait while I have a look?'
He nods, as though nodding makes the suggestion an even better one.
'You go on, I got all the time in the world. It's my sister that hasn't.' River says flatly.
'Right', the assistant says, 'you hold on up here then, while I go down and look. Give me a yell if anybody comes in.'
'Sure', River says. 'You mind if I watch the news while you're down there?'
'Not at all, although I doubt you'll find out anything you don't already know', he says.
'Aint that the truth about these things', River says in agreement.
The assistant clicks back on the TV, pushes the remote control over the counter to River, with jerky movements of his fidgeting hand, and heads down towards the basement, crouching over to fit his body under the low hanging ceiling that frames the route underneath the shop.
While he's digging through bin bags full of old stock in a tiny room underneath the store, River pays close attention to the mobile phone footage, playing on a loop in the corner of the screen. It's impossible to make out the design of his clothes, but just to be on the safe side, he decides it may be best to get himself a brand new look as well.
The door to Frank's office is already open. Frank is inside, barking at someone on the phone. It could be police related or personal, friend or foe. Frank has a tendency to talk to everyone like that, including his own mother. While he continues, he waves Garland into the office. Garland sits, and holding the print-out in his hands, he waits patiently. Finally Frank slams down the phone, lifts it up and slams it down again. Over his tenure in the police station, his phone has had to be replaced six times from the way he handles it, his desk twice.
Holding On To You Page 7
