Of That Day and Hour: A psychological thriller (27 page)

 
A solitary man, lost in a world where he
doesn’t fit, walks along the strip. On the banks by the water’s edge he once again
lays Belle to rest. Marking her grave with the pick, with timber and rocks.
Placing his coat on the ground, he sits beside her.

“Now what?”

The peace and solitude
alongside the hypnotic rippling ebb of the river helps him to think. Belle and
Black Top City are here. Surely it’s a foregone conclusion that the man on the
bench must also be here?

Midnight. A dark vehicle,
pulling in illuminates the empty car park. Jeff parks in the same spot Marcus
did, then kills the engine and lights. The silhouette of the rose garden is in
front of him. He does not take a flashlight: it might attract unwanted
attention to a man alone in the park at this time of night. Through moonlight,
he can make out charcoal stems and monochrome roses. He walks on ebony grass
towards the outline of the oak tree. The bench is here. He takes a seat and
waits. The lake’s still, no wind to rustle the leaves or branches. He hears the
flutter of bats, and senses the movement of the passing red fox. Then a dark
hooded figure, beside him.

“You made it.” The voice
does not sound in the least bit surprised.

“Yes.” He’s mentally
exhausted, feeling that he’s gone full circle, back to this spot.

“I had every faith in you.”

“Why?”

“You will do the
uncomfortable for the pursuit of knowledge. Life has no meaning without
understanding, correct?”

“Yes.” Jeff’s perception is
that he hasn’t gained anything. “But my understanding and knowledge have been
lost.”

“What did you really have to
lose?”

“My life, my values, and my
friends. Most importantly Eve. What’s life without the one you love?”

“Memories are the
distraction. You may have them all back, if that’s your wish?”

“Yes.” Jeff lifts in an
instant. “How do I get my life back?”

“You finish your journey.”

“How?”

“Find Casey Lee Jones.”

“Where is he?” Confusion.
“I’ve tried.”

“Retrace your steps, back to
Colorado and the prison.”

“It’s derelict.” Despair and
resentment resonates in his voice.

“A poor reflection of
reality.” His hand reaches up and pats Jeff’s shoulder. “He’s there. That’s
where you’ll find your journey's end.”

“But.” Before Jeff gets the
rest of his sentence out, the man beside him has gone. “No, not again.” He
stands up, looks at the empty seat and raises his voice. ”Please don’t go.”
With a childlike bewilderment he whispers: “I need help.”

Sitting defiantly back down,
he waits. Time passes. Cold, tired, at the point of collapse, he resigns
himself; his mentor’s gone. He walks back to the truck. Exhausted, Jeff drops
the seats down. In the morning he’ll head back; he’ll make the prison by
evening.

Jeff’s sleep is disturbed by
three loud knocks at the window, his open eyes blinded by a flashlight.

“Step out of the vehicle.” A
male voice barks the command.

Beside the truck is a black
and white patrol car. The black lettering states Police, alongside an
emblazoned gold logo.

Jeff opens the door and
steps out, raising both hands in a passive submissive gesture. The flashlight
in his eyes disorientates. He’s pushed against the vehicle.

“Put your hands on the
roof.” Cops kick his heels in a bid to destabilize and spread his legs.

“Don’t struggle.” The voice
alone is enough to make him freeze on the spot.

Frisked for knives, guns and
drug paraphernalia. His wallet confiscated. Forced to his knees, then pushed
down. A knee in his back and his head on the ground; dirt cuts into his cheek.
Arms pinned back; cold rolled steel cuffs clamped to his wrists.

“Who are you?” The cop’s
eyes bulge as he speaks.

“Jefferson Davies.” The cops
have him pinned to the ground.

“What are you doing here?”

“Sleeping.” There’s panic in
his voice. “I was only sleeping.”

“At the car park?” The cop
puts further pressure into his back.

“Ah. That hurts!” It's hard
to breath. His heart pounds. “Yes. Please, I was doing nothing wrong.”

“Why here?”

“It was late, I’d visited
friends.” The pressure in his back eases. “I came here for a walk and was
tired. I thought it best to have a rest before driving to a motel. I fell
asleep.”

“Are there any drugs, guns
or weapons in the vehicle?”

“No sir.”

The doors, glove box and
trunk are open. A treasure hunt is on, looking for the prize of the night.
Jeff’s lays face down in the dirt. Footsteps, then cops over him.

“Seems the neighborhoods
going to shit these days, what do you think Bo?”

“I reckon so.” Sarcasm and
hatred ring in his voice.

“Give me a break, guys.”
Jeff senses something he hasn’t before. Similarities to Casey’s arrest.

“A break.” The cop laughs.
“Nigger wants a break.”

“Nigger?” He’s shocked, what
the fuck’s going on?

“Best we give it to him
then.”

A sharp pain and intake of breath.
Voltage ripples through Jeff’s spine, through his limbs and torso. Heart
racing, he spasms, face down in the snow. Long forgotten memories of Casey’s
life. Him or them, reaching for the gun strapped to his leg. Then twitching,
wheezing cops. Call it an execution or call it mercy, he put bullets through
their heads.

“Hey.” A concerned voice.
Jeff feels his face being slapped. “You alright?”

Back in the moment, he feels
the cuffs being released. He’s helped up onto his feet. Shaken from his
experience, he dusts himself down.

“Do you have seizures?” The
cop checks Jeff’s pupil dilation. “Any known medical problems?”

“No sir.” He doesn’t want
fuss, he wants to be left alone. “I haven’t.”

“We can’t be too careful in
this line of work.” The cop legitimizes their behavior. “At night the area is
known for prostitutes and drug dealers. We’re proactive with our stop and
search.” With emphasis he states: “It yields results.”

“It’s good that you’re
here.” He would rather befriend than pay further consequences! “I’m sorry, I
don’t know the area, I’m from out of town.”

“We know. Your details were
checked against the rental vehicle. It’s due back in a few days.”

“I leave for Colorado in the
morning.” He rephrases. “I can go now.”

“We’ll turn a blind eye this
time.” The cops still concerned. Did this citizen have a seizure? His concern
only for their own aggressive behavior, and the diversion of possible
consequences. “The park’s quiet, but make sure you’re gone in the morning.”

“Yes, sir.”

Disappointment,
walking back through the rose garden; he does not notice the bloom and vivid
colors made more so with early morning dew. There is no bench under the tree.

Driving out of the car park
Jeff leaves both his night of terrors and his confidence behind.

With a need to freshen up,
he stops at the first available motel. Reception is lined with mahogany grain
wall tiles. The black ceiling fans slowly rotate. Behind the white service
counter, the receptionist greets him with a smile. She’s beautiful; many of the
hotels guests, past and present, have found her alluringly attractive.

“Good morning sir.” Her
expression exudes corporate politeness.

“Good morning.” He smiles.
She’s an uplifting sight for sore eyes, a distraction “I would like a single
room, please.”

“How long will you be
staying with us?”

“Twenty four hours.” He
hands his card over, and takes the room key.

In the shower he tries to
wash away the self-doubt the betrayal of reality.

The hotel is noisy: elevator
doors, muffled thuds, chatter, as people make their way downstairs. The dining
room is a basic no-frills affair. White mottled floor tiles, round beech-effect
tables and chairs. Breakfast is served family style; fruit, several hot
entrees, baked goods. Unbeknownst to Jeff, back in Boston, Jessica, his
daughter also sits at the kitchen table.

“Where’s Louise, love?” Both
girls usually sit together.

“She’s not well.”

“What’s wrong?” Chloe’s face
displays concern.

“Just said she doesn’t feel
well.” Jessica’s very matter of fact.

“Steve can you watch the
toast for me?”

“Sure.” He nods obediently.

Chloe walks upstairs and
into the girl’s bedroom. Here, surrounded by, fairies, butterflies and unicorns
is Louise, under her flower quilt.

“What’s wrong, honey?” She
reaches out, touching her forehead to check her temperature.

“I don’t feel well.” In a
weak voice she says: “I have a bad tummy.”

“On the first day of
rehearsals?” Chloe raises an eyebrow.

“I can’t go.” Her eyes
plead.

“It’s not stage fright, is
it?”

“No.” Louise is adamant.
“Mom, I really don’t feel well.”

“Okay, love.” She can’t
force her, if she’s not well. “Would you like some breakfast?”

“No.”

“Okay.” Chloe concedes she
must be sick. “If you need anything, shout.”

“Thanks Mom.”

Louise's gut wrenches. She
can't put her feelings into words: that today of all days, she should not go.
It's easier to say she's sick. Chloe walks back downstairs and into the
kitchen.

“Looks like you’re on your
own today, Jess.”

“I don’t mind.” Secretly
she’s happy, this way she’ll get all the attention.

“Thanks for doing the toast,
love.”

“At least it isn’t burnt
when Steve does it Mom.” Jessica loves teasing her mom at every opportunity.

“Less of your cheek.”

Jessica enjoys fresh orange
juice, cereal and toast. Back in Kansas Jeff pushes his plate to one side. He
feels separate from humanity, the loneliness and isolation of the crowd.
Finishing his coffee, he walks out of the dining area and takes the elevator
back up to the room. Retrieving his case, he glances at the bed, missing the
closeness and companionship he shared with Eve. If this is life without her,
he’d rather not be.

A black truck in Kansas
drives away from the motel. In Boston a white limousine pulls up outside the
blue townhouse.

“Mom, he’s here.” There’s
excitement in Jessica’s voice.

The girls like Joe, and he’s
now the family designated cab driver. Chloe walks Jessica up the path. Joe
stands by the side of the limousine.

“Hi Joe.”

“Hi Jessica.” He smiles,
then asks. “Where’s Louise?”

“She’s sick.”

“Oh, that’s a shame.” He
opens the door for Jessica to step in.

“Pick-up is for three.”
Chloe is direct in her manner.

“I’ll be there.” He speaks
with pride.

Jeff is on the outskirts of
Kansas City, happy to be leaving it: in his mind the sprawling metropolis only
served up the horror of Marcus and the pain he endured in the past. If it were
not for the homeless man on the bench, this journey would have spelled the end
for him. The highway steers him, green pastures and rolling fields of wheat.
Then ahead, by the side of the road, a hitchhiker, somehow familiar. A black
leather jacket, long braided hair; blue jeans and long legs. Where did she come
from?
 
He could swear no-one was there a
second ago. But that figure... damn, he knows every inch! He stares intently,
passing her, slowing. She smiles, thumb out; he pulls over. A heartbeat. The
door opens.

“Hi.” She smiles at this
handsome stranger.

His heart sinks. There’s no
recognition in Eve’s eyes. She leans forward, displaying her assets. It’s hard
for him to keep his eyes off her breasts. A silver cross, faith close to her
heart. The same piercing in her plump lower lip. He’s staring.

“Sorry.” He snaps out of his
trance. “Hi.” He smiles, telling himself; don’t blow it! “Where you headed?”

“Colorado.” She has many
effects on men; a stunned look isn’t usually one of them.

“I can take you most of the
way. I stop at the prison. You can hitch a ride from there.”

“Cool.” She climbs into the
truck. “Thanks.”

Holding the same beautiful
smile that first captured his heart, her emerald eyes are unmistakable.

“I’m Rosie.” His look is one
of curiosity, she feels, somehow a bond.

“Jeff.” He has a warm smile.

“You seem familiar?” But she
can’t place him.

“Yeah.” He can’t tell her
about their past, not yet. “I feel it too.”

Jeff puts the vehicle into
drive and re-joins the highway.

“You’re a double for my
partner.” He feigns a laugh, unsure how she will react?

“Really?” Taking the
statement as flattery, Rosie’s curious. “Where is she now?”

“Ah.” He sighs. She’s
sitting next to him. “I’m not sure.”

“You don’t know?” She
frowns.
 

“It’s a long story.”

“It’s a long drive.” She
gives him the look: what have you got to lose?

Jessica’s behind the curtain
at the side of the stage. Today is the first dress rehearsal. The rush of
adrenalin pumps around her body. Questions fly through her mind; how will she
perform? What will they think? How will they respond? Although she’s in the
company of other dancers, Jessica’s the main attraction. Then the moment of
anticipation passes, and with no more time to think, she’s on stage. The
spotlight hits, she feels like she’s flying.

Jeff inhales the faint smell
of perfume; Rosie uses the same brand as Eve. He feels that he could tell her
anything, that she wouldn’t be judgmental. Damn those legs, so close, he wants
to touch her. Then he remembers what Eve said, that she could feel his thoughts
and snaps himself from the moment.

“So tell me about yourself.”
Rosie would like to know more about Jeff, and get him talking about his
mysterious partner.

“What would you like to
know?”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a lecturer.” He pauses.
“Well, I used to be.”

“A lecturer” She’s
impressed, he’s intelligent. “Why did you stop?”

 
“A number of reasons.” He looks sad. “It’s
complicated.”

“Did you lose faith in the
system?”

“The system?” He huffs. “Yeah
I lost faith.” He speaks as much to the universe as he does to Rosie. “In
everything.”

“What about love?” She waits
in anticipation for his answer.

“Love?” Jeff didn’t expect
the question. “Well, yes I believe in love.” Confusion, then expression. “It’s
the one true experience we all share that cannot be controlled. There’s no
barriers with love.”

“What if the one you love
lies?” She tests.

“Then it’s not true love.”
He senses she’s going somewhere with this.

“And you love your partner?”

“Of course.” He’s surprised
she has to ask him this, but then, she wouldn’t know, would she?

“Does she love you?” She’s
not simply curious. Rosie has an uncontrollable urge; she hasn’t felt before,
to be closer to this man.

“I hope so.” He sighs and
glances to her with love in his eyes.

“And she looks just like
me?”

“Yeah.” He nods in disbelief
at the situation. “She does.”

“That’s interesting.”

“Why?”

“It just is.” She takes the
plunge. “Do you believe in fate?”

“Oh boy.” He laughs. “Do I
believe in fate? I guess I do.” Shaking his head. “I didn’t, I used to be able
to explain everything away.”

“And now?”

“Now, I have to believe in
fate.”

“So what happened?” She
senses, this man’s been through something.

“Fate intervened.”

“Are you going to keep me in
suspense?” Rosie knows he’s close to the point of no return.

“Oh.” He sighs. “What the
hell.” He confesses. “I’ve nothing to lose.”

Jeff tells Rosie his story
as they drive to Colorado. The more they talk, the more he’s convinced she’s
Eve. Rosie shares the same mannerisms, and they have that special connection,
bouncing off each other as they talk.

“So once you get to the
prison what do you expect to find?” She’s not met a man this fascinating
before.

“I’m not sure, destiny?”

“Destiny doesn’t exist.”
Snapping the words out. She’s unsure why, but knows his destiny does not lie
within the prison walls.

“Why doesn’t it exist?” He
finds it strange; her statement sounds so adamant.

“Because God gave us free
will.”

“God?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Yes, God.” She reinforces
her statement with a look. “We are free to choose and create our own reality,
are we not?” He hears the echoes of the homeless man in her voice. “The now we
live in is the residual of our past thoughts and actions. There’s no fixed
course or plan for us to follow; you’re chasing an illusion.”

“You’re philosophical.” Her
words feel like they are coming from someone or somewhere else. Hinting that he
would be wasting his time visiting the prison.

“Some say I’m deep, too deep
for most people.”

“I like that in you.”

“You’re not a puppet to
destiny.” She manipulates. “I feel close enough to be open with you, are you
comfortable with that?”

“Yes, yes I am.” He welcomes
this closeness.

As the miles diminish, the
more affectionate Rosie becomes. Blurring boundaries between Rosie and Eve.
They pass a sign for refreshment up ahead.

“Like a coffee?”

“Oh yes, please.” She
flashes a smile.

Outside the themed diner
Rosie steps out of the truck; walking towards the entrance, purposely a few
steps in front. Jeff checks out her curves; she’s perfect. With the way she
holds herself, she knows it. Inside a replica of Noah’s Ark acts as service
counter, and robed waitresses serve the customers.

Jessica’s finished her dance
routine, dress rehearsal has gone well. The dancers line up to take a bow. The
artistic director, choreographer and the production team are on their feet
clapping. Back in the changing rooms, Jessica’s in her blue jeans and pink top.
Anabel, her friend has walked over, but before she gets a word out the mistress
speaks.

“Come on girls, less talk
please.” She has a powerful voice. “Don’t forget to hang your costumes back on
the rail, thank you.”

“She’s so bossy.” Anabel
does not like her.

“I know.” Jessica agrees.

“Tell Louise I hope she’s
feeling better.”

“I will.”

“I’ve got to go, dad’s
waiting for me.”

“Okay.” She smiles. “See you
next week.”

Jessica carries her costume
over to the rail, hanging it up before leaving.

Stepping out of the
building, a car horn sounds and she can see Joe’s waving. Jessica runs to the
white limousine. Joe steps out and holds the door open.

“Hi Joe.”

“Hi Jess. Did it go well?”

“Yes.” She smiles and asks.
”Can I ride up front with you?”

“Well, you’re not supposed
to.” He sighs. “Only this once, agreed?”