Exponential

by JM Addison

  *

  Mara needed to get moving. Her immediate plan involved transportation and a place to stay. It seemed she could really trust no one. She would need to depend on only herself. She couldn’t stay at her mother’s or Chris’. Her own place was certainly out of the question as well. That left trusting in someone or just simply holing up. She thought paying cash for a cheap room was the safest thing. Transportation would be a bigger problem. Her car was likely beyond repair, at least immediately anyway. She should do the stuff you were supposed to do when you wrecked your car like call a towing company, perhaps the police, make an insurance claim. She couldn’t begin to face any of that.

  Her next concern was for her mother. She had no idea where she might be or even if she was unharmed. After looking outside in the daylight, she recognized where she was. Sally’s house was in fact the old Holbrook Farm on the highway that intersected the street her mother lived on. She was really only a few miles and through the field and woods (the way she came) even less than that from her mother’s. She wondered if Sally and her family were related to the Holbrook’s. Mara didn’t want to ask for fear of having Sally ask more personal details of Mara.

  She thought about using the phone to find a car dealer in the area that might rent her a car. She was going to have to do something in the meantime. Her insurance company would likely cover the cost. She had no information about her insurance with her, she would either have to get back to her car or her apartment, both of which seemed rather dangerous at the moment. Typically renting a car would mean they would require a credit card. She did have one, but she was paranoid enough now not to want to use it.

  Since it looked like she was forced to trust someone, she felt that the police were still her best choice. She wanted to talk to Detective Taylor, but he was back in Bedford and unable to do too much for her here. She wanted to go back to her mother’s but wondered if she should be calling the police to report the incident from last night. She settled on making another call to the Bedford station to hopefully talk with Detective Taylor and see if he might have a suggestion about the local situation.

  The same female voice answered the call, “Bedford Police Department, how can I help you?”

  “Hello, this is Mara Chandler. I wonder If I could speak with Dell Taylor if he is in?”

  “Oh, Ms. Chandler! Dell is actually in New Hampshire this morning and insists that you leave a number where he can reach you. When he calls in, I will give him the message.”

  That was interesting. Why was he in New Hampshire? This was odd to say the least. It made her uncomfortable, but she felt there was little choice. She gave the woman the phone number and a description of her location. The woman thanked her and hung up.

  She found Sally taking care of more laundry and asked about any possibilities for renting a car. Since Mara’s was wrecked, she was hoping there might be a local dealer or garage that might be able to supply one. Sally thought that perhaps some of the dealers in Middleton might be able to help since it was a bigger town. She had a phonebook for Middleton so Mara could search the yellow pages without calling directory assistance. Sally didn’t mention anything about looking online for information, so Mara felt that the internet did not play much of a role here on the farm. The phone book Mara was handed was rather thin, but the yellow pages section did contain a few car dealers. So she began making calls.

  Activity was a good thing. It took her mind off her immediate problems. After a while she had made arrangements for a car, but she would need to get herself there and have a driver’s license and credit card. Duh! How did she not realize? Her original purse was gone – with her driver’s license. She only had the battered spare purse she dragged through the night with her with the credit card she dug out of her desk, some temporary checks from her new bank account and the printout of Chris’ message – but no license. This was not going well. She got off the phone in frustration and Sally came out with her clothes from the dryer.

  “All of the stains didn’t come out, but they’re pretty faint for the most part,” Sally said.

  “Thank You so much for all your help! I can’t tell you how much I appreciate all you’ve done for me. Let me change, I can give you your robe back. As soon as I can find a ride, I’ll be out of your hair.” She took the clean clothes and returned to the bathroom to change. As she finished, she thought she heard voices again. Sally’s and someone else she couldn’t quite make out. ‘Now who’s she talking with?’ Mara wondered.

  She stepped out of the bathroom and simply starred, dumbfounded at the disheveled male figure of a battered looking Dell Taylor standing in the entryway adjacent to the kitchen.

  “Hi Mara!” was all he said. She thought he looked like hell, perhaps even a little blood matted into his hair. She said to herself, ‘no doubt Sally’s thinking, “Here we go again.”’

  Dell continued, “I would have gotten her a little sooner, but my battery was dead. Had to wait for a jump start.”

  “What are you doing here? How did you get here so fast? Have you been to my mother’s place?”

  “Slow down a second Mara. There’s a few things you should know.” He hesitated a moment to breathe and collect his thoughts. This sort of reflective pause made Mara very nervous. It was the sort of look the State Trooper gave you when he knocked on the door to say that your loved one was just killed in an auto accident.

  “It’s my mother isn’t it…” began Mara.

  “I’m afraid it’s even worse than that,” said Dell.

  Mara thought to herself ‘worse?’ How could it be worse? Dell continued, “The police are over at your mother’s place right now. I’m afraid your mother was found dead.”

  She simply stared, her jaw slacked.

  He looked down to avoid eye contact. Then he returned his gaze and went on, “There’s more…”

  Mara immediately thought of Chris. The only thing ‘more’ and ‘worse’ could mean was that Chris was found dead too.

  With a voice that struggled through attacks of parched cracks, Dell went on, “You’re the prime suspect in the investigation of your mother’s murder. It seems they found your car in the back field behind the house, abandoned with your mother’s dead body inside.”

  Mara couldn’t believe what she was hearing. The room began to spin and she suddenly felt sick. Whoever they were, they were playing a very high stakes deadly game. Killing anyone was nothing for them. Somehow she was to blame. She let this happen. She should never have come here. They knew she would be here, they ‘expected’ her arrival. Now her mother, murdered.

  And the police, what a bunch of asses! What did they think? She could just toss her dead mother over her shoulder and carry her out to her car? Mara barely tipped the scales past 120 pounds, yet she would have no problem wielding a 140 pound body? The whole “investigation” of the disappearance of Chris was another apparent dead end. Instead of investigating what really happened, what were they doing? They didn’t seem to treat her seriously and now she was the one wanted by the police. So why was Dell here? To arrest her?

  The more she weighed the situation, the more her nausea became fuel for her helpless rage.