Smith cocked his head to the side as if he was considering her suggestion. "Why don't you wrap your lips around my dick and suck it?"
Sara ignored the remark, telling him, "You need to show them good faith by letting the children go."
"I don't need to do anything."
Brad added, "She's right. You're not a baby killer."
"No," Smith said, taking the shotgun out of his belt and pointing it at Brad's chest. "I'm just a cop killer."
He let this sink in, the phone's insistent ringing punctuating the tension.
Sara told him, "The sooner you make your demands, the sooner we can all get out of here."
"Maybe I don't want to get out of here, Dr. Linton."
Jeffrey clenched his jaw, thinking there was something too familiar about the way the man had said Sara's name.
Smith noticed his reaction. "You don't like that, boy?" he asked, standing a few inches from Jeffrey's face. "Dr. Linton and me, we go way back. Don't we, Sara?"
Sara stared at the young man, looking unsure of herself. "How long has it been?"
Smith gave her a crooked smile. "A while, don't you think?"
Sara tried to hide her uncertainty, but to Jeffrey it was clear as day that she had no idea who the boy was. "You tell me."
They held each other's gaze, tension held between them like a tight wire. Smith gave a suggestive flick with his tongue and Sara looked away. Had Jeffrey been able, he would have jumped the man and beaten him dead.
Again, Smith picked up on this. He asked Jeffrey, "Are you gonna be a problem for me, Matt?"
Jeffrey stood as straight as he could with his ankles belted together. He shot the other man a look of pure hatred. Smith returned it in kind.
Brad spoke up, breaking the tension. "Keep me," he volunteered.
Smith kept his face turned toward Jeffrey, though his gaze slid slowly toward Brad.
Brad said, "Let them go and keep me."
Smith laughed at the suggestion, and in the lobby his partner joined in.
"Then keep me," Sara said, and they both stopped laughing.
Jeffrey told her, "No."
She ignored him, addressing Smith. "You've already killed Jeffrey." Her voice caught on his name, but she said the rest clearly enough. "You don't want Brad or Matt. You certainly don't want an old woman and three 10-year-olds. Let them go. Let them all go and keep me."
Chapter Five
Sunday
The drive to Sylacauga turned out to be a longer detour than Jeffrey had promised. He said they would stay the night at his mother's, but at the rate they were going, Sara thought it would be more like morning. Closer to Talladega, the highway started to back up with traffic for the race at the NASCAR super speedway, but Jeffrey took this more like a challenge than an obstacle. After weaving in and out of cars, trucks, and RVs at such a close distance that Sara put on her seatbelt, Jeffrey finally exited. She was relieved until she realized that the last vehicle to use the road was probably a horse and buggy.
The deeper they drove into Alabama, the more relaxed Jeffrey seemed, and the long stretches of silence became companionable instead of unbearable. He found a good Southern-rock station and they listened to the likes of Lynyrd Skynyrd and The Allman Brothers as they drove through backwoods country. Along the way, he pointed out different attractions, such as three recently closed cotton mills and a tire factory that had been shut down after an industrial accident. The Helen Keller Center for the Blind was an impressive set of buildings, but hardly much to look at going ninety miles per hour.
Jeffrey patted her knee as they passed yet another country jail. He smiled and said, "Almost there," but there was an odd expression on his face, like he regretted asking her to come.
They took a last-minute turn onto another ill-used roadway, and Sara was contemplating how to ask him if he was lost when a large sign loomed in the distance. She read aloud, "Welcome to Sylacauga, birthplace of Jim Nabors."
"We're a proud people," Jeffrey told her, downshifting as the road curved. "Ah," he said fondly. "There's a point of local interest." He indicated a run-down-looking country store. "Yonders Blossom."
The sign was faded, but Sara could still read that it was, in fact, called Yonders Blossom. Various items one would expect to find in front of a country store were strategically placed around the yard, from a radiator with a fern growing out of it to a couple of rubber tires that had been painted white and turned into flower planters. To the side of the building was a large Coca-Cola freezer.
Jeffrey told her, "I lost my virginity behind the cooler there."
"Is that so?"
"Yep," he said, a crooked grin on his face. "The day of my twelfth birthday."
Sara tried to hide her shock. "How old was she?"
He gave a self-satisfied chuckle. "Not too old to be taken over her mama's knee when Blossom got thirsty and happened upon us."
"You seem to have that effect on mothers."
He laughed again, putting his hand on her leg. "Not all of them, honey."
"Honey?" she repeated, thinking from his tone that he might as well have called her his favorite side of beef.
He laughed at her reaction, though she had never been more serious. "You're not going to turn into a feminist on me?"
She looked at his hand on her leg, sending a clear message that it should be removed now. "Right before your very eyes."
He squeezed her leg in response, flashing that same grin that had probably gotten him out of trouble a thousand times before. Sara was not so much angry as feeling he had paid her back for calling him stupid in front of her mother. Against her better judgment, she let it slide.
They drove slowly through downtown, which was similar to Heartsdale's but half the size. He showed her other "points of interest" from his childhood along the way. Sara got the distinct impression from his lopsided smiles that there were different girls attached to each of these spots, but she decided she would rather not know the details.
"There's where I went to high school." He pointed to a long, flat building with several trailers outside. "Ah, Mrs. Kelley."
"Another one of your conquests?"
He gave a low growl. "I wish. Good God, she's probably eighty now, but back then…"
"I get the picture."
"You jealous?"
"Of an eighty-year-old?"
"Here we go," he said, taking a left. They were on Main Street, which again looked very much like Heartsdale's. He asked, "Look familiar?"
"Your Piggly Wiggly's closer in town," she said, watching a woman come out of the grocery store with three bags in her hands and a small child on either side. Sara stared at the children as they held on to their mother's dress, wondering what it would be like to have that kind of life. Sara had always thought that once she got her practice going, she would get married and have a few children of her own. An ectopic pregnancy subsequent to the rape had removed that possibility forever.
She felt a lump rise in her throat as she was reminded yet again of how much had been taken from her.
Jeffrey pointed to a large building on their right. "There's the hospital," he said. "I was born there back when it was just two stories and a gravel parking lot."
She stared at the building, trying to regain her composure.
He handed her his handkerchief. "You okay?"
Sara took the cloth. She had been tearing up before, and for some reason his gesture made her want to really cry. Instead, she wiped her nose and said, "Must be the pollen."
"Here," he said, leaning over to roll up the window. "Damn dog-woods."
She put her hand on the back of his neck, brushing her fingers through his hair. She was always surprised by how soft it was, almost like a child's.
He looked up at the road, then back to her. He gave her one of his half-smiles, saying, "God, you're so beautiful."