Читать книгу Eleven Hours - Paullina Simons - Страница 11

Sweat ran down Didi’s cheeks. She hoped it was sweat and not tears. She didn’t want to cry in front of this man. ‘Listen,’ she whispered. ‘Please.’

He reached out and wiped her face. He wiped the tears off her face. ‘Just come for a ride with me,’ he said.

Where were her keys? Where were they? Where had she dropped them, ah, goddammit, in her purse! How would that work, anyway? Excuse me while I fish for my keys, let me rummage through my bag while you wait, just hang on a sec.

And what would she do with them? Hitting the panic button was a joke. It was the joke of parking lots, of streets, of urban living. Nothing was ignored with quite the same intensity as a piercing car alarm. What do we all think? We think, when is someone going to find his keys and turn that stupid thing off?

Still, she wished she could have her keys handy. Hit the alarm, startle him, get in her car, lock the doors, drive away.

She leaned against the car, not moving, panting, trying to steady her knees.

He moved closer to her and pushed her slightly with his body. ‘Come on. It’ll be all right. I’m parked just over there.’

Didi knew that in her condition she couldn’t walk anywhere, she’d just fall down.

‘Okay,’ she said, sniffling. ‘Can you carry my bags?’ She thrust all the bags at him, except for her purse, and looked behind him, searching for other people in the parking lot. Didi cursed the day minivans became so popular. He and she were sandwiched in the three-foot space between her minivan and a small truck. Behind her was another minivan, and she could not see out. Worse, no one could see in. ‘Could you carry my bags?’ Didi repeated, trying to sound calm. She just wanted a second to reach into her purse.

He chuckled. ‘No, I don’t think that would be a good idea. But it’s nice of you to ask me.’

Moving off the car to stand on her own, Didi tried again. ‘You did say I shouldn’t be carrying them. Could you help me out? They’re really heavy.’

He continued to smile peaceably. ‘Well, whose fault is that, now, ma’am? Is that my fault? Did I spend a half hour at Dillard’s buying makeup? Did I go to FAO Schwarz and come back out with another bag? Did I go to Coach? To Warner Bros? To Victoria’s Secret? No, I didn’t. I didn’t buy anything. I’m not carrying anything. But you didn’t seem to care then about carrying all these bags and hurting your baby. It’s your fault they’re heavy. Now come on. We’re wasting time.’

My God, thought Didi. It was clear he had followed her from her very first stop at NorthPark. For all she knew, he had seen her at the doctor’s.

Why would he follow her? Why would he single her out?

She didn’t want to turn her back to him.

Didi had thought that feeling fear was watching a scary Halloween movie with Rich, and when the teenagers were alone in the room and any second the vampires would appear, Didi would get a pit in her stomach, turn to Rich, and say, ‘I’m not watching this.’

And that’s what Didi wanted to do now. Turn away and say, ‘I’m not watching this.’

‘How’s your wife going to feel about you taking other women for rides in your car?’ Didi said.

She was instantly sorry. His expression lost some of its politeness. She saw him clench and unclench his fist, and his face struggled for control. He quickly regained it, and took her arm. He wasn’t hurting her arm, but he wasn’t letting go of her. Despite her brave tone, Didi thought any minute she was going to get hysterical.

He said coolly, ‘Why don’t we make our first little rule, okay? You leave my wife out of this.’

‘I’m sorry, all right?’ Didi said, in a pathetic low voice. ‘Listen – I’m going to have a baby.’

He let go her arm and said, ‘Don’t worry. I just want to take you for a ride, like I said.’

Didi could do nothing to stop herself from sinking to the ground. She was shaking her head and saying, ‘I’m not watching, I’m not watching.’

‘What are you doing?’ he said, pulling her by her arm. Didi dropped to the ground between the cars.

‘What are you doing?’ He yanked her again, careful not to raise his voice. Clearing his throat, he said huskily, ‘Could you get up, please, ma’am?’

‘I can’t.’ She panted. ‘I can’t stand. Just leave me alone. I won’t tell anyone. Just leave me alone. My belly hurts. My husband is waiting for me. Just leave me alone.’

‘Get up, I said.’

If Didi could have gotten up, she would have. But she couldn’t move. She was still clutching the shopping bags. Letting go, she fumbled to get to her purse. Keys, keys, keys.

‘I said, get up!’ he said, bending down over her.

Didi opened her mouth to scream but didn’t have the breath. It was as if she had just run a mile at full speed and was gasping for air. She bit her lip shut trying to breathe through her nose.

‘Get up!’

She shook her head slowly.

No one could see them. Didi was still on the ground. Feeling herself about to cry, she covered her face with the white pretzel bag. She didn’t want him to see her weakness. Then she tasted something salty in her mouth. There was blood from her bitten lip.

Knocking the pretzel bag out of her hands, the man grabbed her under her arms and lifted her to her feet. Didi had a second to feel his strength. This late in her pregnancy, even her husband had trouble helping her off the couch or up from the bed. If she was on the floor, forget it. Rich would need a car jack.

Didi’s legs weren’t making it easy for him, yet he yanked her up as if she were a stubborn weed. As soon as she got to her feet, she started to sink down again.

‘Let’s go,’ he snapped, shoving her lightly with his body. ‘Come on now. You may be pregnant, but you’re not crippled. Not five minutes ago you were breezing through the mall, not a care in the world, bags and all. You can go ten feet now, can’t you?’ Staring at her, he said, ‘What did you do to yourself? Look.’ He wiped her mouth with his hand and showed her the blood. ‘Say something.’

Didi tried to talk, but the words wouldn’t come. Fear for her life, fear for her baby, fear for her family – all the fear in the world was in her mouth, and her mouth was bloody and mute. She felt as if her throat were filling with cement. Nothing was moving except her tongue, which labored to help her breathe. She felt nearly paralyzed when she thought of leaving what she perceived as the safety of her own car. She was at her unlocked door. If only she’d hit the panic button instead of the unlock. Maybe it would have scared him off. Maybe it would have. Is that what it all came down to? Hitting the wrong damn button on her key ring?

He shoved her again. Didi moved. She took a few tentative steps and walked out into the main row. A car drove by.

Suddenly hope sprang up inside her. Between cars she had no chance, but here in the open, maybe someone would see her. Maybe someone would see her running –

Running? Who was she kidding? Hadn’t she just sunk to the ground faster than an anchor into water? She couldn’t run, hadn’t run in months. With the baby’s head between her legs, pressing down on the blood vessels in her pelvis, she had to take stairs one at a time. She couldn’t even pretend-run after her girls.

My girls. Didi gasped and dropped the bags.

‘Could you pick those up, please, ma’am?’ he asked.

‘I can’t,’ Didi panted. ‘They’re too heavy for me.’ She wanted to leave a trace of herself behind.

‘Pick them up, please,’ he said.

Shaking her head, Didi said, ‘I can’t. Let’s just leave them.’

Bending his head to look at her sideways, he said, ‘Now, you know that we can’t leave your bags in the middle of the parking lot.’

‘Forget it,’ she said, pretending not to understand him. She was trying to fight the fear that was pulling her down to the ground again. What could he do in the middle of a sunny parking lot, a hundred feet away from Central Expressway, in broad daylight?

She didn’t think he’d do much, and that gave her a little bit of courage. She thought, he seems pretty calm. He is being reasonable, therefore he can’t be crazy.

Bravely, Didi repeated, ‘Forget it. I don’t want them. Really. If you can’t carry them, just leave them.’

‘Oh, shit,’ he mumbled under his breath. He grabbed all the bags off the ground with his left hand, keeping his right hand on her. ‘I’ll take your bags. Happy now? Come on, let’s try to walk a little faster.’

The man hurried, but she dragged her feet. ‘It’s only a little further. Then you can sit down,’ he said kindly.

But Didi wouldn’t hurry. She wanted to walk, to crawl, slower and slower, until she stopped and sat down, and had a drink and maybe some food, and stopped hyperventilating, and had her baby and woke up from a bad dream.

She promised herself she would never go to NorthPark again. Or any mall again without her husband, without a friend, or without a gun. A whole lot of good a gun would have done her here. Excuse me for a second while I ransack through my handbag so I can shoot you.

How long had it been? How was it possible that in the minutes since he had approached her, Didi had not seen anyone in the parking lot? Where was everybody?

She nearly yelped with joy and hope when she saw two women in the next row getting out of a car.

Didi didn’t know if any sound would come out when she opened her mouth, but the terror that had made her weaker a minute ago when she saw no way out made her stronger now when she saw a chance for escape.

‘Help! Help me!’ she screamed, moving away from the man. He was fast. He dug his fingers into her arm.

Didi flung her free arm and hit him across the face. ‘Help!’ she screamed. ‘He’s –’

The women turned and looked at them.

And then he let go of her arm for a split second, just long enough to grab her around the neck, pull her to him, and kiss her hard on the mouth.

He pressed his lips to hers, blowing air into her throat and sticking his tongue into her mouth. All the while he never stopped walking. She tried to pull away from his face, but he was too strong. He held her painfully tight around the neck. If he were her lover, she could have said, stop, you’re hurting me.

But he wasn’t her lover.

She saw the women smile to each other, nod, and keep on walking.

He removed himself from her mouth, and when he did, she screamed once more. He pulled her to him again and pressed his lips on hers, but this time he bit her lip and clamped it between his teeth. ‘Stop it,’ he said to her through his teeth. ‘Keep walking.’

Whimpering into his mouth, she ran in little steps alongside him.

Then he pulled away from her, and Didi whirled around to look for the two women. It was no use, because they were already inside the mall. The man stopped walking when they reached a beat-up beige station wagon. Clasping his right hand over her mouth, he dropped her bags and fumbled for the keys in his pocket. He opened the passenger door and sat her down in his car.

Didi screamed, for she had nothing to lose. Whatever his intentions were, Didi was certain they did not involve his giving her a lift to the Laredo Grill. Her day went gray, and she began to scream again, but no one could hear her.

He got in and started the car. ‘You know,’ he said, ‘you should really stop that.’

They were racing through the NorthPark parking lot. The old car stank. Didi wondered for a moment if the stench came from her. Had she lost control of her bowels?

But no. It was an old, bad odor. The car smelled of sour, rotted food. She looked over at him.

He held the wheel tightly with both hands.

She wanted to say something to him. But what? What? To save herself, she would have said anything.

‘What’s your name?’ she asked in her friendliest voice. Is that the best I can come up with? she thought. What’s your name? What am I, a teenager at the school lockers?

He didn’t answer her.

Please show me the way, dear God, please show me the way out, for my kids, please hear my prayer.

I guess it’s really happening, she thought, starting to rock back and forth, it’s happening. This man, he – I – I’ve been abducted. I’ve been snatched, stolen. He acts polite and tries to smile, but he’s kidnapped me. How’s Rich ever going to find me? And what could he want? Money? Of course, that must be it. He wants money. That’s what all kidnappers want. He doesn’t care about me. He saw me shopping at NorthPark and probably thought I was loaded.

What would it do to tell him the truth? she thought. And what happens to me when he finds out the truth?

Clasping her hands together, Didi tried to think of something comforting, but all that flashed through her was, Am I going to die? Right here, in this man’s car, this stinking car, die with a stranger? Is this how my life is going to end –

My baby.

Why was she thinking about death, about stinky cars? She couldn’t die, because if she did, her baby would too, and her baby could not die.

That was impossible.

The baby is counting on me not to let him die. That’s my job as his mother – to keep him and save him from harm. What kind of mother would I be if I died on him? A bad kind, that’s what kind. Gently, she stroked her belly.

Didi shuddered when she remembered the fight she had had with Richie yesterday. Poor Rich – he’ll be thinking I didn’t show up because I’m still mad at him. That stupid fight. It was just about this very thing – about harm coming to me and the baby. Rich got so mad he yelled at me that nothing was going to happen to the baby. He was angry at me for bringing bad thoughts into our house.

Didi herself had felt silly for fearing the worst.

Yesterday the worst had been some nebulous grief. She feared the baby might have two hearts, two brains, or not enough heart, not enough brain.

Today – well, she couldn’t confront it.

Didi’s hands were unsteady. Rubbing her belly gently, she looked out the side window.

She thought, is God punishing me? I haven’t been penitent. I don’t say my prayers and there are some Sundays I don’t go to church and there are some I go and don’t want to. Who said Christianity was easy? It’s not like drinking water, accepting God into your heart. I’ve been remiss. And so have my children, and so has my husband. We watch TV, we make love, we don’t pray. We fight, we curse. I’ve been feeling cocky and now God is about to show me who’s boss.

They went through a stop sign. Keep that up, Didi thought, and a nice police officer will soon be stopping you himself. At the next stop sign the man slowed down and pretended to stop. Didi looked at the door handle. The car must have slowed to twenty, maybe ten miles an hour. All she had to do was open the door and fall out. She lifted her trembling hand off her lap and reached for the handle.

And stopped.

The baby. When Didi fell out, would she fall on her belly? Would the shock of hitting the ground burst her water, would it snap the umbilical cord? Would it break her baby’s neck or crush its soft head?

She glanced over at the man. He looked tranquil. Would she be able to crawl away fast enough from him? Or would he stop, slam the car into reverse, and roll over her, killing her and the baby? And then calmly drive away never to be found, never to be seen again.

Didi knew one thing with absolute certainty: if she died, her baby had no chance. She closed her eyes briefly. Baby Evelyn or baby Adam, anything your mom can do, she will do, God help her.