She didn’t really believe Gary could act like this. She was worried about him. What did he do when he couldn’t find her? He must be frantic. He would contact the police, but what good would that do? She had vanished into thin air. The last thing she wanted was to make trouble for Gary, but she had been nothing but trouble for him all during their honeymoon. What if he decided she wasn’t worth it-that he was better off without her?
She became angry at Alfred. The longer she lay there, the angrier she became. What right did he have to ruin her honeymoon-to ruin her life? If she got the opportunity, she would be hard pressed not to kill him-and she was not a violent person.
Maybe she never should have left Connecticut. Connecticut was safe. Safe because it was home. Home was supposed to be safe. She certainly wouldn’t have been able to avoid Alfred if she’d stayed in Connecticut, but maybe it would have been easier to handle him there. Or was she deluding herself? Her best friend had been murdered just before her wedding. Did that sound like a safe place to live?
In Fenwick, everybody nosed into everybody else’s business and made judgments. That was one reason she had left. People erected facades, and some things remained largely hidden. The alcoholism of her father, for example. Her mother lived with him and put up with him, but she should have divorced him long ago.
There were a few people who didn’t bother to look respectable. One of them was Katharine Hepburn. She had a home in Fenwick. Kate would drive through town in a powder-blue Cadillac convertible with the top down, sitting beside her lover, Spencer Tracy, their scarves and hair flying in the wind, even though Spencer was married and would never divorce his wife. Flaunting their love for each other, flouting convention and respectability. Kate also did good deeds, such as buying a new fire engine for the town.
Penny had been to Kate’s home once. Kate invited her because Penny was a founder of an organization composed of teenagers who helped others. They baby-sat during elections so that people could vote. One cold January they collected $1,200 worth of recyclable bottles, and presented the proceeds to the March of Dimes Polio Fund. Kate gave Penny a dozen autographs, and she never gave autographs.
Penny had to learn to be more like Kate. To pursue her dreams without worrying what the world thought about her. First, she had to get out of this mess. She would do whatever it took to escape from Alfred, even if she had to do things the folks in Fenwick would frown on-things a good girl didn’t do.
Penny rolled over onto her back with her arms underneath her. She knew she could sit up from that position, especially if she could get her legs over the side of the bed. To do that, she would have to rotate her whole body 180 degrees. She could scoot around, but Alfred would see her do it.
Could she risk it? Would that make him mad because she would be more visible through the windows of the camper? What would he do to her? Would he tie her so thoroughly that she couldn’t move at all?
How long had they been driving? It seemed like hours. Just when she couldn’t stand it anymore and was about to sit up, regardless of the consequences, Alfred slowed and pulled off the highway and stopped. He picked up a map from the seat beside him and looked at it.
Penny hummed to attract his attention. She kept her mouth closed so he wouldn’t realize that she could open it. He turned around and looked at her.
“How is my sweetheart doing?”
I’ll sweetheart you, she thought. Take the damn tape off my mouth, and I’ll tell you how I’m doing.
He got up and walked back to her. As if he had heard her thoughts, he peeled the tape quickly off her mouth. She pretended that it stung, although the actual pain was minimal.
“Owww.”
“Sorry. There’s blood on your pillow.”
He actually sounded concerned.
“I don’t know about that, but I have to go to the bathroom.”
Alfred seemed taken aback. “Uh, can you hold it?”
“I’ve been holding it. Now I’ve got to go.”
“I’ll get one of the cooking pots.”
“I’m not going in any damn pot. I’ll go outside in the trees.” It wasn’t her favorite thing to do, but she would if she had to.
“But you can’t walk.”
“Okay, Alfred, it works like this. Untape my hands and legs and give me my shoes. I’ll go in the trees. I’m not going to run away. We’re in the middle of nowhere. Where would I run to?”
That was true. Dark woods loomed on either side of the road. Hansel and Gretel woods. If she ran into the woods, she would get lost. Or the witch would get her. She would have to come back to the road at some point. There was no way to elude Alfred. He apparently saw the truth of this. He took the blanket off her and untaped her hands. She brought them around to her front and started rubbing them together to get some circulation back into them. Then he untaped her legs.
Penny had a momentary urge to attack Alfred, but her hands and feet were barely working, and he would quickly overpower her. She put on her shoes. He opened the sliding door and stepped outside with her. He told her to stay in sight. She walked a few feet into the woods and went behind a tree, trying to preserve a modicum of modesty.
When she came back, Alfred said, “I think you cut your head. Let me look at it.”
For the first time, Penny noticed the ache on the top of her head. She remembered that it had been worse right after Alfred grabbed her, but she had ignored it as being the least of her problems.
Now he sat her on the floor in the doorway of the camper with her feet on the ground. She didn’t have any choice in the matter. He stood on the ground beside her and parted her hair with his fingers.
“You cut yourself. That’s what caused the blood on the pillow. It’s stopped bleeding, but I want to clean it up.”
Alfred stepped inside the camper and wet his handkerchief at the tap of the sink. He started working on the cut. Penny was surprised at how gentle he was. She thought she remembered hitting her head on the trunk cover of the VW when he grabbed her from behind and jerked her upright. It stung when the water touched it, but she didn’t say anything.
How could she be angry with him when he was taking such good care of her? That was a stupid question. He had kidnapped her. He had hurt her. He might kill her. She had to stop feeling sorry for him. Or whatever her feeling was.
“What do you want with me?” Penny asked.
Alfred didn’t answer immediately. She couldn’t see his face because it was above her as he concentrated on her head, being careful not to hurt her any more than necessary.
After a pause, he said, “I thought we could be happy together.”
In one way that was laugh-out-loud funny, but she didn’t dare laugh. She had to set him straight, though. No false pretences.
“Alfred, I’ve always liked you.” That wasn’t really a lie. At least she hadn’t actively disliked him. But when she didn’t see him, she never thought about him. If he had disappeared, she wouldn’t have noticed. In her life he was a nonentity. She couldn’t tell him that.
“I’m married now. I belong to Gary. I’ll tell you what I’ll do. When we get back to L.A., I’ll fix you up with some girls. I know some nice schoolteachers.”
Alfred didn’t say anything. He kept working on her head. She suspected that he had completed cleaning the wound. Maybe he just wanted to touch her. She was no psychologist, but she realized that what she had said about fixing him up didn’t register with him. For whatever reason, he didn’t want other girls; he wanted her.
Otherwise, he wouldn’t have lived near her and spied on her. He wouldn’t have followed her on her honeymoon. He wouldn’t have tracked her down again after he had lost her, against great odds. He wouldn’t have killed a man. God, was she responsible for that? That was more than she could handle right now. It was time to try another tack.