'Til Grits Do Us Part (46 page)

I jerked my bleary eyes up, surprised to see none other than Ray Floyd, looking at me like he'd seen a ghost. His face pale and clammy.

“Shiloh?” he said in surprise. “You're—you're here?”

“Sure I'm here. I bank here,” I replied a little tartly, despising pretty much everybody in my vicinity. “Aren't you supposed to be in Washington?”

“I came back to talk to you.” He moved closer and lowered his voice. “Because I've figured out who's stalking us. I've got evidence.”

Becky narrowed her eyes. “Who are ya, and whaddaya want? 'Cause she's in a hurry.”

Ray stuck out a hand and shook hers. “Ray Floyd. I'll be quick.But Shiloh, could I speak to you a second? You're not safe. I know what he's planning next.”

“Who?” I pushed through the door and into the misty morning and spun around to face Ray. “Jerry Farmer? Do you think he took Adam?” Adam's name brought fresh tears to my eyes.

Ray came through the door beside me and stopped in midstride, giving me a startled nod.

I grabbed Ray's arm. “Help me, Ray! Do you know where he might have taken Adam? Is Shane in on this, too?”

Ray started to speak again then glanced around and motioned me away from the entrance. Finger to his lips. “I'll tell you everything I know. But hurry.”

He grabbed my arm and pulled me toward his car, unlocking it with a chirping sound.

“Wait. That one?” I stopped so suddenly Becky rammed into the back of me. “I thought you had a burgundy Volvo.”

“I've got two cars. What's the big deal?” He gave me a push. “Hurry, Shiloh! There isn't time!”

“That's a Mercury.” I took a step back. “A dark silver color.”

Ray's eyes turned hard, and he grabbed my arm again. Rougher this time. And he pulled me away from Becky. “We have a lot to talk about, you and I. And we'll start with that fiancé of yours. Adam, I think his name is, right?”

“What about Adam?” I cried, trying to free my arm. And I realized, in a flash of horror, that Ray hadn't released me. He was dragging me. Toward his car.

I started to pound on his back. “Let me go, Ray! What are you doing?”

Becky screamed. Ray broke into a run, throwing his other arm under my throat in a kind of headlock and yanking me along.
Exactly the way my purse snatcher had done in Waynesboro
.

I bit his arm and pounded his face with my free hand, trying to knock off his glasses, but he moved too fast for me. Bending my head down with crushing force.

“No! You're not leaving again!” he hollered.

I punched him in the stomach as hard as I could, but the arm across my throat cut off more oxygen than I'd expected. I gasped for breath, wrenching his fingers as I tried to breathe.

“Stop him!” Becky shrieked, tackling Ray from behind like a football player and smacking him hard across the head with her purse. He temporarily loosened his grip, but only long enough to shove me into the driver's side of his Mercury sedan, banging my head on the side.
The dull-colored car that had skulked outside Adam's house
.

“I'll shoot!” he yelled, firing a very real and very loud gun, shattering glass in a nearby car. Becky and I both screamed.

I kicked and punched, prying his arm away from my throat just enough to see Ray dodge Becky's purse, which she flung at him with full force.

That square jaw. Those thick shoulders and full lips. Long, thin nose.
Mom's drawing
. It was him. Ray Floyd.

“He's got a gun!” I shouted to Becky. “Stay back! Call the police!”

But my words were lost in the slam of the driver's side door as Ray threw his keys in the ignition and hit the automatic door locks, practically sitting on me. I yelled in pain and lunged for the passenger's side door, but couldn't reach with that oaf on my leg.

“Oh no you don't!” Ray hollered, grabbing my arm as I swung at him. He stormed right over a concrete parking lot divider, hitting it with such a loud bang I thought he'd shot me. Then he squealed out of the parking lot, the force throwing me against the dashboard and then against the window, smacking my head.

When the stars disappeared from my vision, I saw the floorboard of the car covered in dark red roses.

“You're Odysseus!” I cried, grabbing a handful of roses and flinging them at his face.

“And you're my angel,” he said in a strange, quivery voice, pointing his gun at me. “And this time you won't get away.”

I
'm not your angel!” I braced myself as he slammed over a concrete divider and into the oncoming lane, horns blaring. He turned at the last minute, skidding down a road that led out of town. “And where's Adam? What have you done with him?”

He was accelerating faster than I could keep up with, speedometer rising. I reached for the door, but I couldn't jump out now at these speeds.

“You're my angel, all right!” Ray shouted, shoving the gun closer. He trembled, wild-eyed. Beads of sweat trickled down his pallid brow. I warned myself to watch it, or he might shoot me. He'd come that unglued.

Keep calm
, I told myself, forcing my racing pulse to slow, and remembering—on a supersonic level—Becky's “treat-a-man-nice” advice in the flower shop. I figured it applied to lunatics as well.
Keep quiet, be gentle, and help him calm down. You'll have a better chance if you can get him thinking straight. Then catch him off guard
.

“Could you please put the gun away?” I asked, holding the seat with both hands as he lurched over a pothole. We were heading farther away from buildings and into some rural side streets, and nothing looked familiar. I tried desperately to memorize our turns.

Ray didn't answer. He glanced over at me with wide eyes, his thick, curly hair disheveled like a madman's.

“Please, Ray? I'm scared. Please put the gun away.”
Remind him that you're human
, police always advised victims.
That you're a person, and that you have feelings
.

“Becky's probably worried sick about me by now, and…”

The gun wavered just an inch, and then he shoved it back in my face again, touching my cheek. “I'm not stupid! You'll run, just like you did last time! You ruined my life!”

I had the sudden urge to grab the gun and smack Ray's heavy rectangular glasses off with it, but I kept my hands curled in my lap. He was too dangerous.

“There's no way I can run, Ray! You've got the doors locked. What am I supposed to do?”

“Don't call me Ray!” he shouted, sounding angry again. “I'm Odysseus! Stop pretending you don't know me!”

“Okay.” I put my hands up. “Odysseus. Sorry. Now will you please put the gun away?”

“Shut up! And don't even think about unlocking the door.”

“I won't.”

“You do and you'll be sorry.” He kept the gun trained on me for a few seconds then slowly let it drop. I pretended not to notice and stayed calm when he put it in his pocket under his shiny, putty-colored jacket.

Thank You, God
, I prayed silently, trying to stop shaking.
At least now it won't go off if he hits another pothole
.

“You left me!” Ray shouted, turning angrily back at me. He tossed the handful of roses I'd thrown at him back in my lap. “Why did you wait so long? And why did you
deposit
money at the bank? Are you crazy? What were you thinking?”

The two questions hit me at the same time, spinning my head. “Why did I wait so long for what?” I finally managed, choosing one.

“You know what!” His face contorted with fury again, and his hand fumbled as if to grab his gun.

“Because I was…scared,” I replied, making it up as I went.

“But you promised you'd be there! Twelve years ago, angel!”

“Angel?” I blurted, rubbing my head where it smarted. “Why do you keep calling me that?”

“My angel. You were everything to me! I waited all this time for you, and when you finally showed up at the bank like we agreed, you
deposit
money? Instead of taking it?” His face flushed with anger. “I saw you there at the counter with the deposit slip!”

Twelve years ago
. We hit a bump, and I braced myself. And forced myself not to react when another car passed us and he swerved too close, tires squealing.

Amanda Cummings disappeared twelve years ago
. “You think I'm…Amanda Cummings,” I ventured.

“Of course you are! I recognized you the minute I saw your photo that day in the auto shop! You can dye your hair, but you can't disguise those eyes. I've never seen another person on earth with eyes like yours—all green and gold. I loved you! And you walked out on me.” He gripped the steering wheel with bulging knuckles.

Your photo
. “Did you say you saw my photo?” I turned to him, still hugging the armrest. “Like…the one my mom carried in her wallet?”

Ray looked over at me with a sudden flash of warmth. “You remember.”

“In the mechanic's shop where Jim Bob Townshend worked.” I leaned forward, steadying myself against the dashboard while we squealed around a curve.

“It
is
you.” Ray reached over with a distant smile and stroked a hand through my hair, and I slapped him away. “I knew you'd remember. I was standing in line behind your mom when I saw your face. ‘Shiloh,' she told him. ‘That's all you need to know.' ” He let out a ragged breath. “And that's when I realized you'd been waiting for me—just like I'd waited for you. It was all part of your plan.”

“Ray.” I waved a hesitant hand in front of his face. “You know I'd never met you, right? That my mom simply printed off a photo of me from the Internet? I'd never even been to Virginia.”

“Don't change the subject!” Ray yelled, flaring up again. “Why did you walk out on me, angel? Why?”

“Amanda,” I corrected cautiously. “Don't you think I'm Amanda?”

“Have you forgotten everything? Our middle names?”

I stared blankly, and he scowled. “Angela. Remember? Your middle name.”

“Amanda…Angela?” I tried.
That's right. Amanda Angela Cummings. Angela. Angel
. I groaned inwardly.
How could I have been so dense?

“Of course! Those were our nicknames for years. Nobody knew them but you and me. You were the only one who called me Odysseus.”

“After your middle name,” I guessed, trying to piece things together.

“Otis. Which sounds a bit like Odysseus, I suppose. Or at least you thought so back then,” Ray snapped. “And if anybody knows love, it's me—just like the ancients did. With poetry. Prose. Anguish.” His face contorted as if he might cry, and he squeezed the steering wheel tighter. “And we had all that, angel! You and me. We were going to shake the dust of this crummy town off our feet and…”

Then his face hardened. “But you couldn't wait for me! You robbed the bank yourself with that Townshend kid and disappeared. And I've been in anguish the past twelve years—until you showed up again.”

Robbed the bank?
My jaw dropped open, despite the placid pose I'd tried to affect.

“What? Surprised?” Ray shot back, his arm moving toward his pocket like he might dig out the gun. “Surprised I know? Everybody thinks you disappeared, but I know the truth. We planned that holdup together for August third—every single detail. Every angle. And then I wake up two days before and check the Staunton news online, and what do I see? You've already done it! You double-crossed me!” he roared.

August third?
I flinched, remembering the strange year Clarence told me about when it snowed in July. Amanda's disappearance. The bank heist. Could Amanda really have robbed the bank, or did Ray just fabricate another story?

“You're sure Amanda robbed the bank? With Jim Bob Townshend?”

“Of course I'm sure!” he snarled, reaching out to grab my arm. “Don't you remember?”

I jerked away, trying to stay calm. “Why didn't you turn her into the police then, if you knew she did it?”

“I didn't turn
you
in because I loved you,” said Ray in a choked voice. “I couldn't believe you'd really left me. But then after all these years…seven, at first, because three plus four is seven…and then twelve. Perfect twelve. Your birthday, you know. Three times four makes twelve.”

“Wait. Wait. Wait.” I put a hand up, math calculations spinning in my head. “Are you saying you expected me seven years after Amanda disappeared? Because of your…three plus four thing?”

“Sure I did. Twelve minus seven is five. Five years ago.”

Ohhhhh. I get it now. Sort of
.

“I sent you flowers and everything. Left you messages.” Ray ran a hand through his hair, making it stand up in wild tufts. “ ‘You were my first.' ”

“But that's just it! I wasn't your first. You'd been engaged before, and so had Amanda.”

Ray laughed, a cold sound. Almost like a shudder. “Oh, no. You were my first true love. First—and last. Never forget that.” His eyes caught mine. “And when I saw your picture in the auto shop the first time, I knew you'd come. Twelve years after you left. Just as I thought.”

He wiped his face with a sweaty palm. “A crazy plan, but I knew you'd come back for me.”

The man needed help. Seriously. I rubbed my forehead, feeling woozy again.

He pointed a trembling finger at me. “But you were going to marry another man on
our
wedding day. Not even Jim Bob, but that Carter guy! Why him?”

Ray blinked rapidly as if deep in thought. “Maybe it's…it's part of your plan, too? To throw off the police?” He wiped a moist cheek, breaking into a watery smile. “I'm right, aren't I? Did I misjudge you?”

I thought of rolling my eyes, but I didn't want to set Ray off again.