Pursuit (36 page)

The Bronco would be a problem, though. He couldn't be sure if sweetie buns had seen it or not. If she hid along the road and heard him searching for her, she probably would have noticed the color or the name and maybe even the plates, though those had been stolen also.

He would get rid of it, maybe run it off a cliff, abandon it in an urban area to be taken. And then it came to him. He had the time. Why not take it back where he had borrowed, or, in fact, stolen it. Why not? It could be a soul-enlightening opportunity for redemption.

Charles spent several hours cleaning out the Bronco. Vacuuming, scrubbing the interior for fingerprints, pressure hosing the engine compartment. He would clean the car again in Tulsa before dropping it off. He wasn't sure how far law enforcement could go to track him, but he wasn't going to leave anything behind.

He knew his drive would be close to three hundred miles. A sense of relief sunk in once he settled on relinquishing the old Bronco. His “ol' hoss” had been such a burden.

With the anticipation of his trip the next morning to Oklahoma keeping him awake, Charles indulged in hot milk and toast to get to sleep.

C
heryl grew more
sensitive to her surroundings. At times Julie would catch her standing in the front room by the door, as if considering whether she should go out or stay inside.

“You'll let me know, sweetheart, when you wish to speak of this.” Julie waited several days before attempting to talk to Cheryl about the ordeal she'd been through. She didn't even know the right words to use when talking about her “abduction.”

“Uh-huh. I will, Mother.”

Her daughter's use of the word “Mother” took Julie aback. It seemed formal and distant, unlike her baby. The next morning, while Julie backed the car out of the driveway, Cheryl commented that “he smelled bad, of body odor, nasty.”

Julie put the car in park and waited.

“I forced myself to be sick and threw up on him. It might have saved me from getting molested. Sorry.” Cheryl gazed out the front windshield.

Julie kept silent.

“The room had been made special. No windows; more
like a cell. Kitsched up like a kid's bedroom.” She made a fist and struck her knee. She dipped her head, avoiding meeting Julie's eyes. “When he called, I should have waited for Aunt Billie.” She glanced down at the healing blisters on her hands. “Did I say that already?”

Julie reached across and squeezed her daughter's wrist without looking at her. She wanted to give support without emotional pressure.

“The light was always on. I figured a way to turn it off so I could sleep. Wish I could stop thinking about myself and all this junk.” She rubbed at a stain on the dashboard. “I feel bad about Aunt Billie. She was with me, and then she wasn't. It poured the night he took me, and again when I got loose. I got soaking wet.” Her body pulled in on itself.

Julie wanted to ask so many questions.

“I want to see Aunt Billie.”

Before Julie could answer, Cheryl continued. “I'm sorry. I know she's gone. She was so afraid, Mom.”

They sat, the car still in park, the engine running like a rhythmic accompaniment to Cheryl's lament.

“The phone rang at Billie's, and he said he had the dog. Ah, Scoot, is he okay?” She looked to her mother for an answer.

Julie nodded.

“He was barking. Why didn't I wait for Billie? Then I was smothered and it rained, a long ride in the back of a car—or like I said, older station buggy. How long was I gone? A week? Two?”

Julie held up two fingers.

She absorbed that and then continued. “He sang. Awful off-key down-home kind of stories, all about pretty saloon keepers who tapped beer and screwed cowboys.
Sorry. It's like he was short. I don't know why I say that.” She lost herself in her broken fingernails. “He peeked through the food slot at all kinds of times.”

They glanced at each other. Cheryl nodded.

Julie wanted to scream, but she kept quiet. After a long, slow expelling of air, Cheryl relaxed back into her seat. Julie once again waited, and then, after a reasonable pause, put the car in gear and backed out of the driveway. They were halfway into town when Cheryl spoke again.

“Did I tell you about how I got out?” She didn't wait; just droned on. “He gave me sardines in a can. Hated them. I bent the cans under the metal bed frame.” She stopped and closed her eyes. “Made a knife, cut my way out the basement wall. It took days; I don't know how many. I made up my mind not to be attacked, so whenever I heard him come down the stairs, I hid a sharpened can in my hair bun.” She paused. “The water was so cold.”

Julie never spoke, just continued to squeeze her arm.

After a less than speedy but uneventful trip, Charles arrived in the early evening in Broken Arrow, a suburb of Tulsa. He reminisced about having been stranded in this burg one dismal night after a boring search for companionship. He had watched a man and a woman arguing inside a house, the couple framed by a large picture window. In the driveway, a Bronco with motor running and lights on, ready for acquisition.

On the matter of returning the Bronco, Charles stopped at a drugstore and called for a taxi to meet him close to this same house, at the corner of Kenosha, just off 193rd Avenue. He waited across from the suburban cottage. When the cab pulled up at the corner, Charles drove the Bronco up the driveway, swiped clean the steering
wheel and radio knob, and left the SUV just as he had found it—with the engine running and lights on. He got out, jumped into the taxi, and told the driver to take him to the Greyhound bus station in Tulsa. Exhausted after the day's long drive, he felt let down after dropping off the car. He'd fulfilled his little fantasy about the vehicle but was left wanting. Maybe if he waited, even rang the doorbell, he could have completed his cautionary folktale. Seeing someone discover the long-lost Bronco, parked there laboring away, would have been priceless. It was not to be.

Julie gained permission from Captain Walker to bring Cheryl into the station house. She stayed close to her mother, walking slightly behind, her hand encased firmly in Julie's.

Over the five days since her release from the hospital, Cheryl had told her story in random sound bites. Julie asked if she would repeat it, in whole, to her superiors, assuring Cheryl that she would be by her side the whole time.

Walker cleared his throat. “Looking back, once you got outside, do you remember anything about the house exterior? Size, color, other houses close by?”

Cheryl bowed her head.

“Don't go where it will scare you,” said Julie. “Just do what's comfortable.”

“It's okay, Ma. I'll try.” She took deep breaths. “The rain came down hard. It was dark. When I looked back at the house, it was just a silhouette.”

“You say ‘look back.' Cheryl, where were you when you looked back?”

“In the water.”

“The rain?”

“No, the lake. After I squeezed out the window, I just ran, and the only place to go was in the water. It was so cold, but I thought I was safe. He must have known I was in there, because he cursed at me out over the lake. He looked for me.”

“Could you describe the man? Did you see him clearly?” Todd asked.

“I never ever got a good look at him. He took me upstairs, out of the room, twice. Both times I was hooded. Maybe he was around my height, five foot seven, I don't know.” She shook her head. “He wore clunky boots and his voice seemed to be coming from about my level.”

Todd moved his chair closer. “Can you guess how long you walked that night?”

“I don't know what time it was when I got away. The TV was on upstairs. Maybe a couple hours after the news, between eleven and one in the morning. I walked to just before daylight—that is, after I got out of the water.”

Thanking Cheryl and Julie, Captain Walker signaled for Todd to follow him into his office.

Sergeant Worth and her daughter left the building after a number of good wishes from the remaining officers on duty. On the way back home, Julie got a call from Todd.

“Walker and I pulled up some maps. In six or seven hours, there's no way Cheryl could have walked from any lake that we see on the map to where the old woman spotted her. We drew a circle around the area. She would have had to cover at least eight to ten miles through heavy forest to get close to where she was picked up. Is she there with you?”

“Of course.”

“Ask her if she got swept up in another river besides the big one where Gault saw her. We're looking at something called the Osage; dumps into the Missouri.”

Julie looked over at Cheryl, fast asleep. “I'll call you back; she's snoozing.” By the time they pulled into the driveway, Cheryl had been out for nearly an hour.

“Cher, just one thing,” Julie asked while they walked into the house. “They—Todd and Captain Walker—wanted to know if you think you might have crossed another river before the big one, where you slept in the cave.”

Her answer, a slight shrug.

Julie hated all the interrogation of her daughter but knew it was necessary. She turned on the television to get the weather for the next day, knowing it didn't mean a damn thing to her. It was simply habit.

Several hours later, while getting ready for bed, she heard a noise outside. She grabbed her automatic, turned out the light, and slipped out the side door. The night sky melted into the hard black-outlined trees. Abstract shadows cast eerie shapes on the far side of the road. A figure moved slowly away from her, trailing a high-pitched keening, like a baby wanting a bottle. A white-sheet-like image appeared in the gap between the trees. Julie followed along the fence parallel to the form. After several yards, she slipped her weapon into the back of her slacks and quietly vaulted the fence. She crossed the road behind the retreating form. Closing in nearer to the ghostly image, she whispered, “Cheryl.”

The cloth-draped figure turned. “I crossed a river, but it took me in its arms and rode me for eons. I couldn't get out of its path. Who is it, please?”

“Let's go back home, baby. Everything will be all right.” Julie put her arms around her daughter, being careful not to startle her. “Shush your mind and let Mom think about all the things dancing around in your heart, okay?”