Eleven Hours

‘Not white, Nancy,’ said Debbie. ‘It was yellow. Remember I said it was a cheerful color?’

‘Oh yeah,’ Nancy said. ‘Yellow. And the guy, he was, I don’t know – a little taller than her. Kind of thin, I think. Right, Deb?’

‘Yeah, he was taller than her. He was wearing jeans and a jacket, that’s all I remember. He was kind of nondescript, and we couldn’t see them well.’

Rich nodded in anxious agreement. ‘Nondescript – that’s exactly how Alex described the guy who was hanging around Didi when she bought the pretzels.’

Officer Patterson looked at Rich. He couldn’t place the peculiar expression and thought maybe it was guilt for her earlier reluctance to believe that Didi was in trouble, but then Patterson asked, ‘Does the man sound like anyone you know?’

Rich wished Patterson was a man and not a police officer, because he wanted to hit her. ‘What the hell are you saying to me?’ he said and didn’t care how he sounded. ‘What the hell do you think you’re saying? Does the guy sound like someone I might know? The guy who kisses my wife as she’s screaming for help? You know, no one like that springs to mind at the moment.’ Rich glared at her. ‘You’re saying, do I know if my pregnant wife has been fooling around behind my back?’

The officers looked ashamed, and the two women were downright embarrassed. ‘You just can’t help yourself, can you?’ Rich said to Patterson. ‘You just can’t help saying the wrong thing.’

‘I apologize,’ Patterson started to say, but Rich cut her off. ‘Obviously you have a problem dealing with people, and I see that as a real detriment in your line of work, considering you pretty much have to deal with people all day long.’

Disgusted with her, he turned away and spoke to Officer Charles. ‘Why are you looking for every possible explanation except the obvious? Her nose bled, she met a friend, the cell phone’s dead, she forgot about our lunch date, blah, blah, blah. Everything. God, can’t you see what must have happened?’ He was choking on his words. ‘My wife is missing. My pregnant wife – she’s probably been taken by force –’ The words were larger than his throat. ‘What can we do now?’ He looked around and walked back a few steps to sink into the wooden bench. ‘What do we do now?’ he said and buried his face in his hands.

4.00 PM (#ulink_4a70c82f-cf72-5dcf-aeba-fb57a885d7ab)

The man kept a steady pace on the road. They had just passed Midlothian, twenty miles south of Dallas.

‘What are the rules of our game?’ Didi asked.

‘Rules?’ Pleasure showed on his face. ‘Okay, how about this? We do it in three guesses and I give you three clues.’

‘Sounds good,’ said Didi, licking her lips. She liked it better when he wasn’t sullen.

‘My name,’ said the man, ‘is the name of a great country singer.’ She said, ‘Kenny?’

‘Kenny?’ he exclaimed. ‘Gosh, no! I said great, didn’t I? Not a hack. No, a great, incredible country singer. Two more guesses left.’

‘Well, then,’ said Didi, ‘I need two more clues, don’t I?’

He thought about it, saying nothing for a while. He drove. The sun beat hot on the car. Didi was panting. She needed cool air.

‘Okay, how about this – he’s tall.’

Shaking her head, Didi said, ‘They’re all tall, tall is not a good clue. Sort of like, they’re all men.’ She thought she’d gone too far. Like she was insulting his clues or something.

It was clear he thought the same thing, because he said to her, ‘Are you trying to get smart with me?’

‘No, no,’ she quickly said. ‘I mean, maybe something a tiny bit more specific.’

‘I was married recently,’ he said, and Didi couldn’t be sure if he was in character or talking about his own life. ‘And now I’m not anymore.’

‘Why not?’ said Didi.

‘Because my wife was a hopeless slut and wouldn’t settle down,’ he said harshly.

She guessed he was in character. ‘Lyle Lovett,’ Didi said. ‘Lyle.’

He looked at her sideways with amazement and maybe even admiration. ‘Wow. Two guesses. My name is Lyle. That’s incredible. Very fast. Lovett is not my last name, though.’

‘No, of course not,’ Didi said. And then, ‘Lyle is a nice name.’ Sucker-upper, she thought. You’ll say anything to save your life, won’t you?

She must have looked stricken, because he said solicitously, ‘What’s the matter?’ and placed his right hand on her knee.

It was difficult not to cringe and pull away from him. Wiping her face quickly, she said, ‘Can I have that drink now? I’m really very thirsty.’

‘Well, hold on, hold on,’ said the man named Lyle. ‘I have to guess your name now, too, don’t I?’

‘I can just tell you my name,’ Didi offered.

‘No!’ He stuck out his hand. ‘I want to guess. Please. I was having so much fun with this at Dillard’s. Let me see…what do I get if I guess in three?’ And he leered at her, smiling suggestively and pursing his lips. She wanted to open the door and fall out of the car onto the embankment. She would have done so if she hadn’t had a baby inside her.

‘I don’t know,’ she said helplessly. She did not add, what do you want?

‘How about a little kiss?’ he said, reaching out and placing his hand on her leg, just below her dress line. His hand on her bare leg made her emit a retching sound.

Lyle took his hand away. ‘Yes,’ he said, not smiling. ‘Maybe we’ll start with a little kiss. Now give me the first clue.’

She tried to swallow. Her throat was dry. She needed to swallow to ease her anxiety, but there was nothing to swallow with. The need, though, was great. She wiped her sweaty forehead and, panting, put her hand in her mouth. Unsatisfying, but better than the tightness that overwhelmed and paralyzed her. ‘Okay, first clue,’ she said huskily. ‘I was a major female character in an old, very famous play.’

Lyle’s brow furrowed. Suddenly he didn’t seem to be enjoying himself. He obviously realized it was going to be harder than he had thought. ‘Play?’ he said grumpily. ‘I don’t know any plays. What do you mean?’

‘Well, that’s my first clue. If you want another clue, I’ll give it to you, but then it will be two clues.’

‘No, wait. Let me guess.’ He looked pensive. ‘An old play?’

She was quiet, rubbing her sore right ear. ‘Yes, an old play.’

There was an echo in her ear, and the ringing would pass through the canyon of her eardrum, bounce off, and ring in both ears. She was getting a terrific headache. Lowering her hands to the Belly, Didi felt the baby kick. In the first second it gave her comfort, in the second, anguish. The baby.

‘I’ve never seen a play in my life,’ said Lyle.

‘What about in high school?’

‘Yeah,’ he drew out. ‘Maybe in high school. Guys and Dolls, maybe. Sound of Music. Yes! Your name is Maria.’

‘No,’ she said, and thought, idiot. Didn’t I say an old play?

‘No?’ He seemed disappointed. He had looked so proud of himself when he said Maria. The baby kicked again. She closed her eyes.