Heart of a Runaway Girl

by Trevor Wiltzen

  Susan started to cry again. “I just don’t know what to do.”

  Mabel’s heart melted for her. “I’m sorry I scared you.” Then she put an arm around her shoulders to build up the girl’s courage. “It’s probably for the best. You’re not happy here.”

  Susan nodded. “Let’s go then,” she said in a whisper.

  Mabel led her out and waited for her to lock the door. When Susan did, she paused, not knowing what to do with her key, but then simply dropped it in the mailbox. When the key clanked hitting bottom, a weight seemed to lift from her shoulders, and she stood straighter. She breathed in the fresh air and then turned around, holding her spare clothes with one hand.

  Mabel waited, watching her, as Susan started to come alive.

  Mabel reached out to hold her hand.

  Susan grasped it tight and then gave a soft smile to Mabel, who returned it in measure. “Are you going to be all right?” Mabel asked gently.

  Susan nodded, and a touch of hope appeared in her eyes. “Thank you.”

  “Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just a silly woman who asks too many questions,” Mabel said, leading her to the car.

  “Are you really just a waitress?”

  Mabel laughed embarrassedly. “Just a waitress, dear. Really. But the girl that was murdered is personal to me. You see, she was a customer and I… I saw that trouble was catching up to her fast. But I didn’t do anything. I let her go without stopping her.” Mabel paused. “I don’t know what I could have done, but whatever God’s plan was, she left. And she got murdered. And her boyfriend is suspected of being the killer.”

  “But you don’t think he did it?”

  Mabel thought about that some more. “No,” she said finally. “I don’t.” Then she guided Susan to the passenger side before walking around the car, but Susan just stood there, waiting.

  “Why?” Susan asked.

  “I can read people. I have a gift,” Mabel said, getting in. Susan did too.

  “A gift?”

  Mabel started the ignition and then sat back. “Yes, I know it sounds strange, hon. But it’s something special in me. I can’t explain it. It’s in the eyes, for me. When I look into them, it’s… it’s like I can read a person’s soul if you get me.” Mabel breathed out and then gave an enigmatic smile. “I can’t explain it more than that.”

  “What do my eyes tell you?”

  Mabel looked into her red-tinged, watery blue eyes and didn’t see a weak girl. “You are strong. You will get over this.”

  Susan swallowed and then looked out the front window and reflected. “I think I… lost myself in this relationship. At first, it was good, and he made me feel special. But, after a time, I don’t think he liked me for me, you know?” She looked over. “I thought I wasn’t good enough for him.”

  “Oh, luv,” Mabel said, reaching out to touch her hand. “It’s him who’s not good enough to see who you really are. You can do better.”

  The barest hint of a sparkle appeared in Susan’s eyes, and a slow smile grew upon her lips. Mabel smiled in return. Then put the car into gear, stepped on the gas, and got her out of there.

  CHAPTER 14

  Friday, September 19

  Mabel rarely took personal time off, so when she asked both Sally to cover a shift and Isabelle to look after her kids, it became quite a sensation. Mabel ignored staff chatter and let them think whatever they wanted: she didn’t want anyone to know she was visiting a jail to see Winston Washington.

  A loud electronic buzzer sounded before the jail gate opened, and a guard beckoned her into the security area. Out of place and nervous, she waited with the other visitors, who looked to be a mix of wives, kids, girlfriends, and some rough-looking folks. Her sleep had been affected, so she wore extra concealer to hide the puffiness under her eyes. It was almost too much to expect that Winston wasn’t guilty — but her intuition told her otherwise.

  A guard stepped into the room and barked out the rules: don’t touch the inmates, don’t hand them anything, abide by the time limits, follow all instructions. Then he let family and friends in one by one, and by the time Mabel was allowed in, the seats were filling up. Winston was sitting by himself, watching the visitors come in. Mabel doubted he remembered her, but he had agreed to a visit, so that was a start.

  Mabel approached with a welcoming smile. “Hi, Winston. Can I sit down?”

  “You the gal who signed up?”

  She nodded.

  “It’s your hour.”

  She sat down, and he sized her up.

  “Hey, wait a minute, you’re the owner of the diner. In that shithole Blue River.” She nodded. “You like prison dudes or something?”

  Mabel’s smile fell. His rude comment made her focus on his brown eyes, which showed anger, pain, stress, skepticism, but nothing she would call evil, not like looking into Larson’s eyes. The man in front of her was nothing more than a boy who’d grown up maybe too fast in some ways, too slow in others, and with what happened to Karen, had probably been damaged for the rest of his life. Was he guilty of a crime? Sure. He was a drug dealer. But murder? That’s what she was here to find out.

  “I wanted—” She paused to settle her nerves “—to find out if you had worked at the sawmill.”

  Winston’s head cocked back in disbelief. “You drove all this way to ask that?”

  “No, no.” Mabel became flustered, looking for the right words. “Karen, um, she was found—”

  “Yeah, in the sawmill,” he said, getting a little angry. “That’s what the pigs said. You with them?”

  “No, I…” Mabel hesitated again. “I met Karen’s parents, that’s why.”

  Winston gave her a “what did that matter” look and the callousness took her aback. Clearly no saint, she thought. She pressed him, wanting to know if he was innocent or not, and if not, she would leave. “Did you work at the sawmill?”

  Winston gaped at her. “Lady. I never even been in a sawmill. I sell drugs. You think I deal, and cut lumber too? Come on, do you see me as a nine-to-five woodcutter chopping sticks with an ax, with these hands? I sleep till noon, and I sell weed, and sometimes I smoke it. Jesus.”

  Mabel’s hunch was confirmed, and she excitedly pressed on. “You told police that Karen got into another vehicle. A black truck?”

  “What’s it to you?” he asked, crossing his arms. “I thought you said you weren’t with the police.”

  “I’m not. But this is important, Winston. You’re facing murder charges, and you told police about a black truck.”

  “I don’t get this. Most of your kind in Blue River would lynch me for my skin. You one of Larson’s gang then? You looking for payment? I told them I don’t have it. How could I? I’m in jail.”

  “So Larson sells to you?”

  “Lady. Larson sells to everyone.”

  “But why? He’s a racist pig.”

  “He’s a racist pig who likes green more than he hates black.”

  Ah. She nodded, understanding. “Who was in the truck then?”

  “How do I know?” Winston said, looking exasperated. “It was dark. I couldn’t see the motherfucker in that truck.”

  “You said Karen was worried. That she was being followed.”

  He glanced away like this was a waste of time and said, “I told the police already.”

  “Tell me, please. I’m here to help.”

  “I don’t know you, Lady. And it’s not like Karen was my girlfriend or anything. I’d picked her up in Seattle outside a bar, and we’d shacked up for a few weeks. She was just a weed rat looking for a score.”

  “I don’t believe that. I saw you two that night. You cared about her, Winston.”

  A look of pain washed over him, and he tried to hide it by shifting in his seat and brushing her off with a shrug. “She was just a white girl, you know? Didn’t have a white girl before.”

  “No. You cared about her.”

  Winston sighed and looked down.

  A long silence followed
before he whispered without looking over. “So?”

  “I could tell you were worried about her. It looked like you were trying to talk her out of something.”

  He cleared his throat roughly and nodded. “She wanted to go home, back to her family. But I… I knew I couldn’t exist in her white bread, suburban world. She wanted to go to university. I haven’t even finished high school. I’m just some fuckin’ loser who deals weed for a racist.”

  “No. You are a smart man, Winston.”

  Winston looked back, not wanting to let the compliment in, but he did. “She liked that about me. That I’m a good reader. Well-read, I mean—” he corrected himself and smiled. “She saw through my bullshit too. That’s why I, uh, I… loved her. I know that sounds stupid. But it’s the truth.”

  “Why did she leave you that night?”

  “She wanted out. To go home. But I told her I wasn’t going with her. That I was staying in Blue River.”

  “So, she got mad.”

  He took a moment then nodded.

  Mabel then asked as gently as she could, “So why didn’t you go after her?”

  Winston flinched, and all that was left of the tough guy act disappeared; like that night at the diner, he looked more like a boy in a man’s clothes than the murderer the police had branded him. He crossed his arms to hold in his emotions but failed, and though he hid his tears from the others, he did not from her. After a time, he said in a hoarse whisper, “I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

  “The police said she did tricks for drugs.”

  “They would have.”

  “Did she?”

  He scoffed and then added, only a little embarrassed, “She wouldn’t even go to bed with me for the first while, so I know she wouldn’t be turning tricks for anyone else.”

  “When did she get the tattoo?”

  “It was new. About two weeks. She wanted one like her dad’s.”

  “Was she trying to turn her life around?”

  He looked down at his hands and nodded. “She’d done heroin before. Meth. But with me, only weed.” He sighed. “Look. She was trying to do right. Get back on track. I was trying to help her. I wanted her to dump my ass.”

  “But she didn’t.”

  He slowly shook his head and then became absorbed by his own thoughts.

  Mabel glanced at the time; she didn’t have much left. Without knowing of a delicate way to ask the next question, she just asked it directly. “Did you two have sex that day?”

  Winston’s eyes locked back on hers, and Mabel felt nervous again from his anger. “No. Not for a few days,” His voice started rising. “The police told me about that. God damn, that fucker. Raping my girl.” He clenched his fists. “If you find whoever did that to her, you tell me, and I’ll kill ’em. For free. You hear me?!”

  The guards started to break up the other conversations, so she quickly moved to her last questions, desperate to get it all. “The truck,” she said. “Is there anything about the truck that you noticed? Did Karen say anything about a man following her? Or anyone she might have known at my motel?”

  The talk of the rape had clearly thrown him, and he forcibly wiped the last of the tears off his face.

  The guards got closer, and she pleaded, “Winston! I’ll help get you free. But tell me who was following her. What did Karen say?”

  “You really think I’m gonna get free?!” Winston snapped at her. “Look around you. I’m just another black guy in this shithole. None of us black men are going free. You white chicks, you think you’re the saviors, but you’re not, you’re the ones who put us here.”

  The guard was beside Winston and told him to get up. Winston brushed him off but got to his feet anyways. He said nothing to Mabel, and while she stood up to give him a hug and offer some final comforting words, he just turned his back on her and left through the rear gate.

  Mabel crossed her arms to hold in her emotions and let herself be escorted out. It was not until she got back to her car that she broke down sobbing.

  CHAPTER 15

  Wednesday, September 24

  Mabel was telling a dirty joke to a customer at the counter when Sally came up and quietly waited, smiling politely, until the customer laughed at the punch line and left and Mabel could focus on her.

  “What’s up, Luv?”

  Sally pointed backward and said, “That Bill Jordan character. You know the one. High-tailed it after a week and left the room a mess. Wants to talk to you.”

  “Oh,” Mabel said, her sense of humor vanishing as she looked past Sally to the scowling young man with the strong, wiry build of a climber. “He looks none too happy,” Mabel added, touching Sally’s arm as she passed.

  “You need any backup?” Sally asked.

  Mabel glanced back with a confident smile and said, “For this little pup?”

  Bill Jordan folded his arms across his chest. The bandages on one hand were clear to see and the thin scratches on his face looked almost healed.

  “What is it?” she asked, not feeling like giving him a luv or a hon, as she normally would, thinking about Susan, and how he had treated her. She was half-tempted to give him the door already.

  He was fuming and came right out with it. “Did you come to my place and talk to my girl?”

  “You mean drop off your things that you left here?” Mabel said, giving his tone right back.

  “Um, okay. Yeah that, I mean.”

  “You’re going to thank me for doing it?”

  He tried holding her stern gaze until Mabel gave a look that said “Are you going to do the right thing here?” He gave in. “Okay, fine. Thanks for that, for bringing my things. You see, I, uh, I got injured. Had to go to the hospital.” He uncrossed his arms to point out the bandage, which she had already noticed, and then awkwardly let his arms swing down to his side. The starch seemed to be taken out of him some, but he came out with it. “Susan said you thought I’d murdered someone.”

  Mabel almost smiled at his forthrightness. Because if two weeks back, she had looked into such perplexed, self-conscious eyes the brief time he had moved into the motel, she would have known he was no killer. “Yes, I felt bad for that. I told her, in the end, it wasn’t you. You see, there’s a—” She didn’t know how to say it, so just came out with it. “There’s a potential suspect who was driving a black truck. Plus, the victim, Karen, had fought off her attacker.”

  “I read about that. I thought they caught someone.”

  “So it appears.”

  He looked puzzled, giving her a once-over. “You some detective too?”

  Mabel laughed this time. “Oh God, no. I’m probably someone who’s sticking her nose into something she shouldn’t. I own this motel and diner, and I’m a waitress. That’s pretty much what I do. I only think our justice system isn’t all that just in this instance.” Bill Jordan didn’t seem to understand, but she had no interest in explaining herself further. “So why are you here?”

  “Susan. She, uh, she left me.” Bill’s face fell. “Told me after you came and talked to her that she, um, got the courage to leave me. Now she’s at her parents and won’t see me and I don’t know what to do. I miss her and I want her back.”

  “Then why did you hurt her?”

  “Now that was a mistake. I didn’t mean to, uh… We were arguing. I didn’t mean to get rough.”

  “That’s no excuse.”

  “No.” Bill deflated. “No, I guess you’re right.”

  “So why come to me?”

  “Could you, uh… talk to her?”

  “You want me to ask her to go back to you?”

  “Maybe, yeah. If you could.”

  Oh dear God no, Mabel thought. You poor, misguided boy. “Sorry,” she said at last. “That’s on you. I wouldn’t even let you back in my motel knowing how you treated her.”

  A passing customer overheard what Mabel said so he guided her aside and said, “I know I did bad. I’m ashamed of it. But I want her back and I don’t know wh
at to do anymore.”

  Mabel didn’t feel any inclination to be generous to this boy. She said, “If you want her back, be a better man.” She waited, expecting him to protest, but he kept listening, eager to hear what she had to say. “You don’t treat women that way,” Mabel went on, scolding him. “If she’s the one, then you support her, build her up, you don’t tear her down. The poor thing was frazzled, crying, at the end of her wits. She’d already wanted to leave you with the lousy way you’d been making her feel lately, so don’t come here expecting me to rescue you from your own stupidity. If you want her back, change. Learn to be a better man, treat her better. It’s on you. Only you.”

  Bill looked like a deer caught in the headlights. After a moment, he blinked rapidly, like what she had just said filtered in, and he nodded without speaking.

  She continued, “You got a lot of work to do. Not just with her. She said you needed this construction job, but you went off like a fool going climbing and getting injured. First thing you do is you need to get your head on straight. I doubt Carlos, your foreman, wants you back, but you could try there. Then leave her alone for a bit. Get your life in order.” Mabel didn’t know why she was giving him advice.

  Bill seemed to come out of his daze and whatever anger and swagger he had before was gone. He just breathed out slowly like a valve letting out steam and finally nodded. He said, “I guess you’re right.”

  “You damn straight I’m right. Get it together. Then maybe, just maybe, if you let her be and, more important, let her be the woman she is, you might, might, have a chance. She’s a good girl, a great girl actually, and any man would be lucky to have her.”

  He nodded, scared now. Probably worried she’d fall for another man, Mabel thought. If he gets jealous, he’s lost. “Now don’t be worrying about who’s she’s with. You worry about being a better man. A better man doesn’t get jealous. He lets the woman be herself and loves her for who she is, not who he wants her to be.” She thought of her own Bill — her husband — and though she’d kicked him out too, she still loved him. This young pup had nothing on her Bill though.