“Please, it’s very cold.”
“You need to get back in your car and drive away.”
“I don’t have a car. I have nowhere else to go.” I forced a dramatic trembling of my lips.
“Jesus Christ.”
I whispered a silent prayer of thanks as I heard the dead bolt turn.
“The only reason I’m even letting you in is because there’s no earthly way anyone saw you come here. Get in here quickly. Jesus, you’d think the wife of a senator would know better than to come out in the middle of this mess.”
I was so astonished, I stopped pulling back my hood midway. “You know who I am?”
“I didn’t at first,” she said groggily, the ice in her glass clinking as she moved across the runner lying across the wood floors in the front hall. As she entered the adjoining living room, she drew together the already small openings in the curtains.
She slowly turned around. “But you’re her, aren’t you. You’re Roseworth’s wife.”
“You know who I am. You have to help me get to William. Please.”
“I don’t have to help you do anything, lady.”
She went to a decanter on a side table and refilled her drink. Her hand shook a bit as she poured the bourbon to the rim. “And he goes by the name of Al… Alan… now.”
My God, she’s completely drunk. “I don’t understand. If you know who I am, why did you put William on that bus?”
“I didn’t know who were you were then,” she said, moving with the speed of a turtle over to a footstool covered in magazines. “And I tried to warn you. But when you were making such a scene, you cooked your own goose. Had to call security. Dammit!” Her foot caught the edge of the thick rug and she teetered, careful not to spill a drop from her drink. I instinctively reached out, fearing one fall would mean the end of the woman. But she righted herself, reached down, and messily slid the magazines on the top to the floor. “There. That’s how I found out.”
“The Senator’s Nightmare,” the cover of People magazine shouted, featuring a picture of my husband and our family from the news conference, with William’s picture in a smaller square beneath them.
“I always thought I had seen Alan—or William, as you call him—before. When I came home today, I started going through my magazines, and I do love People, even with their stupid Kardashian covers—”
“Where is he?” I moved towards her. “Please take me to him, Miss Cliff.”
“It’s Verna, calling me Miss Cliff doesn’t make you any younger, sweetheart,” she said, easing herself into a maroon-colored La-Z-Boy, taking another long drink. “He doesn’t remember you. And he won’t ever remember you.”
“It doesn’t matter. I have to get to him. I have to get him home.”
“You don’t get it. He is home. The only home he knows. He’s just now starting to sleep through the night—”
“You know he’s my grandson! Why didn’t you tell anyone?”
“I think you’re aware we’re in the middle of a blizzard and our phones aren’t working. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here. And it’s not like they’re going to let him leave.”
“Who’s not going to let him leave?”
“The same people who sign your husband’s paychecks. Listen, have a seat. Do you want a drink—?”
“I would love a drink,” I lied. As she got out of her chair for the side table where several glasses surrounded a bourbon decanter, I sat on my hands to keep them from reaching out and shaking her. I thanked her when she handed me the glass, and pretended to sip. The smell was so intense I almost gagged.
“I know you want to help William, you’ve already done so much for him.” I spoke slowly. “And he looked healthy at the park; I’m so thankful to you.”
“I love all my kids.”
“It’s really obvious. You’re a godsend to them. But please, Verna, please. I need for you to tell me where he is, how I can get to him—”
“Now you listen to me,” she brandished her bent index finger as I’d seen her do to corral the children. “I’m taking a real chance even talking to you. Don’t know how you got away from security, but since you’re still here, it means you’re on the run. And don’t think for a moment they’ve contacted your husband. Plus, he doesn’t mean shit out here. You don’t understand the mistake you’ve made coming to Argentum. Your husband is nothing here. You’re nothing here.”
“It doesn’t matter whom I’m married to. I could be married to a truck driver for that matter. All that really matters is he’s my grandson—”
“All they care about is that Alan—I mean William—will never leave.”
“Who? The people at the hospital?”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Argentum doesn’t really have a hospital, Mrs. Roseworth,” she snapped, finishing off her bourbon and quickly filling up the glass again.
“Of course there’s a hospital—”
“It’s no town either,” she waved her hand. She downed another glass, and refilled quickly.
At that moment, I was thankful I was sitting down. “It’s an old silver-mining town—”
“That they made into a military base. Doesn’t matter what I tell you, you’ll never leave here. They won’t let you. Even the townies, outside of myself, don’t know this whole place is basically a military prison. And anyone who ends up at the section of the base that’s used as a hospital never leaves.”
As frustrated as I was dealing with a person who was just moments ago clearly passed out, and had drank three additional bourbons in the last five minutes, I was grateful for the liquor. She was talking, divulging more than she would have sober. At the park, Verna was rigid, protective. Obviously, anticipating being trapped inside her home for days meant there was no limit on how much she could drink.
“How do I get to him?”
“Honestly, I don’t even know if he’s still there.” She polished off the glass, reaching again for the decanter.
“What do you mean?” I moved to the edge of the chair.
“They know you’re here in the town somewhere. They’ll want him out, shipped off to one of the other bases. You might be in luck, though. The storm might have kept him here. But I saw Alan—William—before I left for the night. His room was packed up. Poor thing.”
“They would move him just to keep me from finding him?”
“Jesus, you are naïve. I can’t blame you, I guess. I’ve been around for so long, I understand how things work. Hell, all I’ve ever known is this town. Thought it was a pretty great place growing up. Even if my old auntie wasn’t the nicest of people, she still took good care of me. All I ever knew was Auntie. Couldn’t have been easy taking on some three-year-old who nobody wanted.”
“Verna, please—”
“Auntie always said my mother must have been a real degenerate, dropping me off at the fire station like she did. Good thing Auntie had a thing for the fire chief and he liked her pancakes, ‘cause she’s the one who found me outside the fire hall door while delivering breakfast—”
“Your auntie showed the kind of kindness to you that you, in turn, showed to the kids here, and my William in particular. Your auntie took care of you. She would be so proud of you, of what you’ve done. All I want is to do the same for my grandson.”
“It’s always been my job to protect those kids, make them feel safe after what they’ve been through. I don’t handle the adults, but those kids are my kids, and I take care of them.”
“I can’t thank you enough for taking care of him all this time,” I said, knowing I was laying it on thick. “But Verna, I don’t understand. What happened to William? How did he end up here? Why doesn’t he remember me?”