The Overnighter's Secrets

by J. L. Salter

  “I did. But now I’m tireder now than when I laid down.” Beth sighed heavily. “I’m gonna soak in the tub.”

  “Okay. Uh, Bethany... I still love you.”

  “I know, Shane.” Beth couldn’t allow herself to say it, but she still loved him too. At least she thought so.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Night

  Beth thought she heard something in the back yard. Great—during her first soaking bath in two weeks.

  Probably nothing, but she dried off, put on a knee length cotton nightshirt, and peeked out the rear windows. Nothing amiss, so she went to the kitchen to make some chamomile tea.

  Then she watched TV, though with little commitment.

  Up much later than normal, Beth was exhausted, but didn’t feel sleepy... just confused. About everything: the burglary, Ricks accosting her, and all the odd components of the little suitcase. But mostly about Shane.

  He can’t just wheel his new bike into town and sweep me off my feet. I’m not a college co-ed anymore. But he said he loved me and I just gave him ten seconds of silence. Why?

  Beth used the bathroom and brushed her teeth.

  Right before she crawled into bed she remembered she hadn’t locked the rear door to the garage since she almost went to visit her parents. She pivoted.

  What was that awful smell? She reached around the door jamb to flip on the kitchen light switch.

  Someone grabbed her hand and yanked her through the doorway!

  “Ricks!”

  Ricks shoved her against the wall, tightly covered her mouth with a reeking hand, and pressed a knife to her throat. “If you scream, I’ll cut you.”

  “What do you want?” Her voice felt strangled.

  No answer. Ricks’s expression and mannerisms seemed incredibly wild. He lessened the pressure of his hand on her mouth.

  Beth wondered what drugs he was on. He looked more intense than the ordinary tweaking she’d previously witnessed among the dumpster divers. “If this is still about the overnighter, you can have it.” She twisted her head to get her mouth clear of his hand. “I don’t care anymore. It’s only junk. Take it.”

  “You had your chance to give it up. But you lied instead.” Ricks pulled away his covering hand. “Now my new boss wants more than the little suitcase and all its secrets.”

  “What else? I don’t have any money.”

  “This boss doesn’t need any money. My new job is you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re coming with me.” His grin was sinister.

  “No!”

  “Unconscious is okay, too. Either way.”

  “Look, whatever it is, we can talk about it here.” Beth struggled until she again felt the bite of the serrated blade at her neck. “We don’t have to go anywhere.”

  “Yeah, we do. Boss wants you... and that’s what he gets.” Ricks looked at her bare feet. “Find some shoes. Quick. I don’t want you slowing us down.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “You’ll find out.”

  Beth tried to think of something to stall this terrifying momentum. “It’s cold outside...”

  Ricks seemed to think a minute. “Okay... change your clothes.” Then his ominous gleam turned Beth’s intestines to ice.

  It was way too dangerous to undress in front of this creep. “I’ll just grab a jacket.”

  “It was your idea.” Ricks’s clutch at her gown’s v-neck pulled her away from the wall. He took a long look down her nightshirt. “You smell good, Beth.” His own breath stank like rotting garbage.

  She couldn’t speak. Beth shook her head and stepped backward, pulling her neck band from his grasp. Tears streamed down her face as she reached for a folded sweatshirt and her jeans on a chair seat.

  Before she could put either one on, Ricks gripped her right wrist and pulled it behind her, painfully high. She thought her arm would snap like a brittle branch.

  He waggled the knife. “Not just yet.”

  “Ow!” When he let go of her wrist, Beth cradled both arms in front of her bosom. The right elbow throbbed horribly.

  “Drop your hands.” He motioned with the serrated blade.

  Her face turned to stone as she slowly let her arms down to her sides.

  His laughter scared Beth even more. She’d expected some lewd observation. But Ricks’s cackle sounded like a bona fide lunatic.

  “Now you’re probably wondering if this is the moment we’ve both been waiting for.” He cackled again.

  Beth shivered. According to Sallie, Ricks knew very little about sex but a lot about cruelty. “Timing.” The word came out audibly even though Beth didn’t think it would. “Timing, Ricks. If you waste a lot of time here, your employer is gonna freak.”

  It was difficult to guess what was going on behind those dilated pupils at the moment, but she hoped Ricks was as scared of his boss as Beth was of Ricks. “I’ll be dressed in two seconds and we can leave.” She turned toward her clothes on the bed. Ricks made no effort to stop her. Evidently, his fear factor was extremely strong. She yanked the sweatshirt over her head and then hurriedly shoved her legs into the jeans.

  “You think you won this round? Well, the place we’re going has a hundred beds. And we’ll have plenty of time to finish our little discussion later.”

  Fingers trembling, she quickly put on her sneakers and then grabbed the jacket. Beth didn’t know where they were going, but somehow any place Ricks could take her seemed better than being alone with him here. Perhaps she could escape once they got outside. Instructor Randy had said flight was better than fight. Maybe she could flee once she got out of reach of Ricks’s knife. Maybe she could find an edge when they got to the other place. Where? The place with a hundred beds. A hospital? College dorm? Where? A place that large might have somewhere to hide. “So where is your employer waiting for us?’

  “You don’t need to know. It’s real quiet and we won’t be disturbed.”

  “Are we leaving town?”

  Ricks laughed. “The boss says we’re hiding in plain sight. A thousand people will drive right by and nobody will look there.”

  Beth couldn’t think of any site around Verdeville which seemed likely.

  “No more hints... so just shut up. Where’s your car keys?”

  She reluctantly pointed toward her purse on the kitchen counter.

  With one eye on Beth and one hand groping in her purse, Ricks found the keys. Then he rummaged in his pocket for a piece of paper, which he read hurriedly. “Oh... you need to leave a note.” He pointed toward a tablet on the same counter.

  “What kind?” She took a pen from a nearby jar.

  Ricks consulted his own page again: “Uh, tell your biker boyfriend that you’ll be gone for a good while.” He pointed to the tablet. “You’re tending to a sick relative, out of town.”

  “What does this relative have?”

  “Doesn’t matter. Make it up.”

  Beth addressed it to Shane and wrote hurriedly:

  Called hurriedly out of town to care for my ailing Aunt Lynette’s rubbishitis. Won’t be home for a while.

  Then she signed it.

  Ricks grabbed the tablet, read it quickly, and tore off that page. “Okay. Now leave that where he can find it.” He roughly rubbed his nostrils and sniffed loudly.

  For the instant that Ricks looked away, Beth scribbled something quickly in the extreme bottom corner and turned it over discreetly. The earmark barely showed. She placed the page in the center of her small kitchen table and put a salt shaker on the folded corner. Then she tried to slip the ball point pen into her back pocket.

  Ricks caught her. “Not so fast. Leave the pen. It’d be just like you to stab me when I’m sleeping.”

  Her eyes bore into him. That was exactly what she’d had in mind.

  Ricks watched her face carefully and held his knife very near. “Now... the little suitcase that you lied about.”

  “It’s in the garage.” She pointed. “I’l
l get it.”

  “Hold on. I’m coming with you.” Ricks smiled crudely. “Lead the way.” He was so close behind her that their bodies were touching.

  Beth turned on the garage light and pointed to the overnighter, on top of the counter at the back wall.

  “I wasn’t born today. Open it.” Again, he consulted the note he’d brought.

  Beth turned the weathered case to face her and struggled with the single working hasp. Then she gently laid open the tattered lid. Small pieces of leather edging flaked off.

  “Is the story in there?”

  “What story?”

  “Some murderer got hung somewhere.”

  “Uh, yeah. On top, in a folder. Why do you need that old thing?”

  “Never mind. Boss wants it. Show me.”

  She retrieved the folder and opened it enough for him to see the oddly-sized, faded pages.

  “Close it.” He waggled his knife. “Fast.”

  She dropped the lid, but didn’t latch it.

  Ricks consulted his note again. “Where’s the diary?”

  “I’ve been reading it. Inside, on my bookcase.”

  “It’s coming with us.” He pointed with his knife. “You carry the case.”

  Since the lid wasn’t latched, she grabbed the overnighter in a clumsy hug and hurried inside to the living room, where she dropped the case onto the couch.

  Ricks was very close behind. “Diary!”

  With a swift movement, Beth grabbed one of her college day planners from beneath Lynette’s actual diary and turned quickly to block Ricks’s view of the bookcase. Then she made a show of rubbing off imaginary dust. “Old diaries are so dirty.”

  “Never mind. It won’t be around long anyhow.” Ricks snatched the book from her hands and tossed it on top of the suitcase. “Put it in... latch it.”

  She did.

  “Now hold out your hands.” He pulled a partial roll of two-inch duct tape from his jacket pocket.

  Beth panicked. “No! You don’t need to tie me. I’m cooperating. Please!”

  Ricks folded the knife and clipped it to his belt. Then he roughly wrapped three circuits around her wrists, tightly. He clearly enjoyed this.

  Terrified, she tried to remember something else Instructor Randy had mentioned in class. Anything. When Ricks reached for the little suitcase, Beth figured it was then or nothing. With bound wrists, she shoved both balled fists into Ricks’s back and toppled him over onto the suitcase, which slid from the couch and slammed loudly to the floor. Then she raced toward the front door. Both locks were still secure and her hands couldn’t reach two knobs at the same time.

  In the fraction of a second it took to unlatch the dead bolt, Ricks caught up and slammed her into the door. Then he jerked Beth backward and flung her to the floor. His eyes were fiery coals.

  She figured he’d probably slit her throat and leave her on the floor pouring blood into the Berber carpet.

  “Nice try.” Crouching closely beside her, Ricks grabbed her throat with his left hand while he pawed her with the other. “I thought something was fishy, so you didn’t fool me... I figured you’d make a break. Maybe I’ll just teach you some manners.” He repeatedly slapped her face and upper body.

  The pain was intense. Beth struggled to lessen the blows. “When Shane finds out, he’s going to hunt you down and kill you.” Her voice came out in gasps.

  “Your loser boyfriend’s been looking for me for days... and I’ve led him around like a blind steer. He never even got close... and never will.”

  “You’re wrong, Ricks. Dead wrong.”

  Ricks cackled between blows. “Since I told my boss about your boyfriend, he can’t wait for the big meeting. We’ve got that biker right where we want him.”

  Beth wondered what he meant. But more than anything else, she prayed Ricks would quit striking her.

  Suddenly, a loud ring! His phone. Ricks looked as though he were freeze-framed. When he checked the number displayed, his eyes widened with fear. He rose and backed away a few steps, and then motioned for Beth to sit on the couch. She did and Ricks kept both eyes on her during the brief conversation.

  Beth held her bound hands in front of her defensively and looked for a weapon. Anything. She understood enough from Ricks’s responses to realize this caller was his mysterious employer and the boss wanted them there already.

  Ricks looked around for the suitcase. “Up!”

  She rose, quite slowly, from the couch. Her hair was wet with tears and she brushed some strands from her eyes.

  “Not one word.” He grabbed her bound wrists and pulled Beth very close.

  She struggled but didn’t have enough strength to resist.

  He hissed through gritted teeth, “Carry the suitcase.”

  When he dropped Beth’s taped hands, she rubbed them on the denim covering her thighs... trying to scrape off the feeling of his filth. She realized she didn’t have her jacket, but couldn’t even remember where it fell.

  Ricks pulled the note from his pocket once more. “Oh... the boss needs your cell phone.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  October 17 (Monday morning)

  Shane woke to a ferocious thunderstorm after a restless night in his motel room. He couldn’t stop thinking about the previous morning: obviously something troubled Bethany, but she hadn’t revealed what. Of course, Shane didn’t ask. Why hadn’t she responded to his profession of love? Did she no longer love him or did she just refuse to acknowledge it?

  Though Shane had never stopped loving her, Bethany seemed to have carved him out of her heart almost entirely. Oh, there was still at least a piece of him left inside her. How large a portion? Not sure. Significant enough that he’d thought they were close to making love Saturday night. But he’d ended up sleeping on her couch.

  Yeah, he was perturbed, but what was bugging Bethany after his night on her couch? It was their first night together in three years and yet they weren’t together. She’d likely wanted some kind of commitment: whether they’d be together forever. Bethany probably wondered what his intentions were. She seemed to want him, but appeared to be scared. Of what? He didn’t know. Bethany seemed unsure whether she could afford to still love him.

  As best Shane could figure, the first step was to reach Bethany and reassure her about his commitment. Apparently love was not enough. Evidently assurances about commitment and future were the new table stakes. How or why? He’d have to work on that after he talked to her.

  About 7:30 a.m., Shane called her cell phone. Had to leave a message. As he looked through the window at the driving rain, heavy thunderclaps vibrated the glass. The sudden noise was startling because Shane hadn’t seen the lightning. He wondered which direction the storm front was moving and how long until it passed over them. Great day to be on a bike.

  He tucked his hunting knife and .357 magnum under his heavy raingear and dashed out to the Road King. Shane hurriedly unlocked the saddlebags, carefully stowed his weapons, relocked the compartment, and took off.

  He had a long, heavy duster like cowboys wore one hundred and forty years ago, but it offered absolutely no protection from the street water that all the other traffic, and his own tires, splashed continuously.

  Shane rode the short distance to Bethany’s house. No car in her driveway... not in the garage either. No sign of her through the cottage windows.

  He tried to remember the name of Bethany’s workplace. Couldn’t. Rode another couple of miles downtown to the courthouse to ask somebody in a county or city office. He probably needed a visitor’s bureau, if Verde-town even had one, but didn’t feel like searching for it in the awful storm.

  Inside the courthouse, the first visible office was Voter Registrar. By now, Shane was a soaking mess and left a trail of water everywhere. When he walked, his boots squeaked on the waxed and buffed tile floors; whenever he stood still, a puddle quickly formed.

  The clerk at the desk looked up and gasped. Her name tag—Georgeanne.

 
“I’m trying to reach my girlfriend and I can’t remember where she works.”

  Georgeanne, still speechless, fumbled with the top button on her sweater.

  “I’m from out of town.”

  She’d probably figured that out already. Georgeanne had likely never seen a soaking wet biker.

  “I know it’s a CPA firm—name of the owner. His name is an old car.”

  The clerk gathered her composure sufficiently to guess: “Edsel? Corvair? Baracuda?”

  “No, not models... makes. Like Chevy or Ford... Chrysler.”

  “Uh, maybe you should check with DMV... next floor up.” Georgeanne looked eager for him to leave.

  “They sent me here,” Shane lied.

  The clerk looked around the large room. Several co-workers watched, though some were partly hunkered behind the tall counters and workspace dividers. One chimed in, DeSoto? Then another suggested Tucker. Somebody mentioned LaSalle. A comedian offered DeLorean.

  Finally, someone in the corner called out Packard and it rang a bell. Shane slapped the counter and splashed water. “Packard CPA!”

  Clearly relieved that the guessing game was over, Georgeanne handed him a Greene County phone book.

  He tried to focus on the tiny print. “Don’t have my glasses.” Shane pushed the slightly soggy phone book back toward Georgeanne.

  Considering the slight tremble of her fingers, she found the listing rather quickly. She wrote the number in large digits on a small tablet and tore off the page.

  Shane took the paper, pulled out his phone and called.

  Everybody in the office listened.

  “Packard CPA.” Since this was not Bethany’s voice, it was evidently the owner.

  “Is Bethany Muse there?”

  “Beth? No... hasn’t come in yet.”

  Shane accidently emptied his cuff water as he checked his watch. “It’s 8:45. Wouldn’t she be there by now?”

  “Supposed to be here at eight. Who is this?”

  “You don’t know me, but Bethany and I used to be... a couple.” Shane heard some sighs in the background of the voter office.

  “Oh... the biker in California. Is it raining where you are?”