“And then what?”
“God, can’t you…imagine? She—she said she…was going to call the police.”
“That’s why he killed her?”
“He panicked! He just wanted to shut her up…” Gasp. “She was screaming and crying…so he put his hands…around her neck…and…”
“Strangled her.”
Les nodded.
“How did Don get involved?”
“He—he helped get…rid of the body but—” Les swallowed hard “—last year David started figuring it out. Don couldn’t…let that happen…couldn’t go to prison…or allow his son to go to prison over a…a stupid accident. He said Jeremy was…like Lennie in Of Mice and Men. Jeremy even convinced himself that…he didn’t do it.”
Isaac had read Steinbeck’s novel in freshman English and always hated the ending. “Now will you help me?” Les gasped. “This bullet…My chest feels…like it’s on fire.”
Which reminded Isaac… “Did you set the fire at my place?”
“No!” he said, but the fear in his eyes gave him away.
“Did you?”
Tears slipped down his cheeks, but they were the result of pain, not remorse. Isaac didn’t think Les was capable of feeling remorse. “I—I had to. You—you and Claire…wouldn’t leave this…alone. You…showed up at my…house, for crying out loud. Right in front of my wife!”
“You didn’t have to do any of it,” Isaac said, but he stooped to pick up Les’s gun and ran upstairs for the phone. He had to call for the helicopter before Les lost any more blood. And he had to get back to Claire.
He called 9-1-1, then tried the motel. He had to reach her, had to warn her that Jeremy could be dangerous.
The phone rang and rang and rang. No answer. So he hung up and called again.
This time, he asked for Jeremy’s room, but Jeremy didn’t answer, either.
“I have to go to the bathroom.” Claire had tried everything to get Jeremy to untie her; nothing had worked. She’d been afraid to use this ploy because she didn’t want him to say he’d help her, was afraid it might give him ideas. The things he kept saying about the way she’d kissed Isaac—with her mouth open—frightened her, but she couldn’t think of anything else that might persuade him to untie her.
This seemed to give him pause.
“You don’t want me to go in your car, do you?” she pressed. “I don’t have any clothes to change into. How will we wash these?”
Since running out of gas, they’d stayed in the car, waiting for God only knew what. Jeremy had locked all the doors as if he was afraid someone or something, maybe the zombie he kept talking about, might come after them. But he hadn’t explained what he planned to do from now on; he hadn’t so much as helped her sit up. He remained behind the wheel while she lay in the backseat. They were deep in the woods with no food or water, not even a working vehicle.
Thank God it was summer. As chilly as it was—she could almost see her breath—they would’ve frozen to death if he’d done this in winter.
“But you don’t want to get out, do you?” he said as though he couldn’t believe she’d even consider it. “There are bears out there.”
“We have to get out sometime. We have to go to the bathroom and we have to find food and water.”
He dropped his head in his hands. “Can’t you wait until morning? Your mother could be in the trunk.”
She wished he’d quit talking about her mother. Her heart ached enough right now. “She won’t hurt me. But she might hurt you for kidnapping me. So untie me, and I’ll go by myself.”
His voice fell. “You think she’s angry?”
“Wouldn’t you be angry?”
“But I’m just trying to protect you.”
He was trying to protect himself. “I’m going into the trees over there for a few minutes. Then I’ll come right out.”
“How do I know you won’t leave me?”
She heard panic in that question, panic she quickly tried to relieve. “Where would I go? I don’t even know where I am. Do you think I want to get attacked by a bear? They forage at night.”
Head still in his hands, he nodded. “We can’t leave any food in the trash.”
“See?”
“Okay,” he said, but he obviously didn’t like the idea. He rubbed his head some more, sighed, sniffled a little and began to whine. “I want to go home.”
“Then let’s go home.”
“I told you! We can’t!”
The anger that flashed in his voice frightened her even more. She’d never seen him act volatile or unpredictable. He’d been pushed so far beyond his ability to cope she had no way of guessing what he might do. “It’s okay, Jeremy. We’ll figure it out together,” she said. “But first, let me go to the bathroom before I have an accident.”
“That’d be gross,” he muttered, sniffling again.
“Not to mention unnecessary. It won’t take me long. You can tie me up again afterward.”
“If you run away you’ll get eaten by a bear.”
“Which is why I’m not going to run away. Like I said, we’ll figure this out together.”
Getting up on his knees, he twisted around. With his big body hunched, head and shoulders pressed up against the ceiling, he stared through the windows as if he was ten years old and imagining all kinds of terrible dangers lurking out there, cloaked by darkness.
In that moment, Claire was able to feel sorry for him again. He didn’t know what he was doing; he was just trying to deal with the loss of his father, his fears and basic survival. Even innocuous animals in that type of situation could be dangerous.
“You don’t have to get out with me,” she said. “Reach over and untie this rope. It’s cutting into my wrists and ankles.”
He wiped the tears from his face and did as she asked. His thick fingers struggled with the tight knots but eventually he succeeded and blood began to flow back into her hands and feet.
However, that wasn’t an immediate improvement. The burning sensation hurt so much Claire couldn’t even move.
“I thought you were going to get out,” he said.
She considered explaining to him what the ropes had done, but why confuse him further? She couldn’t tell how he might react to more guilt or pressure. “I just… I need a minute to…to think about how to do this.”