Chapter 5

Waylon's pickup pulled out of the dark night into the dimly lit parking lot of a small roadside motel. Only two other cars were present. Violet pulled in behind him. Waylon climbed out and walked to her car. "We'll get rooms here."

"Why?"

"You don't want to be on the road at night. Too many bad things can happen in the dark." Waylon walked into the motel office. Violet jumped out of her car and chased after. Waylon strode up to the night clerk behind the counter. "We need adjoining rooms for one night."

The night clerk checked his computer. Waylon reached for his wallet, but Violet grabbed his arm. Waylon reacted as if shocked. "Let me. Please. You've done so much for me." After Violet gave a credit card to the night clerk she turned to Waylon. "We really need to talk."

Waylon edged away. "No we don't." Ignoring her, he studied the night clerk at his computer.

Violet walked away to look out the window. Beyond the far end of the motor court she could see a levee. "Are we on a river?"

"The Cumberland," Waylon answered.

"The same one that goes over the Falls?"

"A branch of it."

"That's a beautiful place. I was there today."

"I know."

Surprised, Violet turned to find him staring at her. "Did you follow me? From Cincinnati?"

"Wasn't the only one." Violet gazed back out to the deep country darkness. She could see nothing beyond the levee. "Come sign this. If you mean to pay."

Violet walked back and signed for the rooms. The night clerk gave her two key cards. "Rooms eleven and twelve. Check-out is at ten." Waylon plucked the card for room twelve from her hand and walked out. Violet chased after.

They parked their vehicles in front of their respective rooms. Waylon waited at the door to room eleven for Violet to get her suitcase. She slid her card in the reader. When Waylon opened the door, she was repulsed by the reek of tobacco. A hint of a smile graced Waylon's lips for the first time. "We're in Kentucky. Everyone smokes. Get over it."

They entered a small cheap room. Violet set her suitcase down while Waylon checked the bathroom. Once he emerged, Violet jumped in front of the door and doubled her arms across her chest. "You are not leaving this room until you explain what is going on."

"Yes I am." Waylon easily shoved her out of his way.

Violet grabbed his arm, pleading, "What's going on?"

Waylon shrugged her off and opened the door. "The less you know the safer you are."

"Please!"

Waylon stepped outside. "I told you not to come down here." Violet shrank back against the bed and hugged herself. "There are people here who want to kill you. There are people here who want to do worse. That's all you need to know. Lock the door behind me. Don't open it to anyone but me. Don't answer the phone. If you need me, bang on the adjoining wall."

"Have you got your gun with you?"

"Of course. We'll leave at daybreak." Waylon closed the door behind him. Violet hurried over to lock it. She then hurried over to the wall behind the head of the bed and put an ear to it. She heard the door open then close and lock. Footsteps. A moment later the sound of a man urinating. At that she backed away from the wall and hugged herself. Tossing and turning upon the nightmare-infested bed, Violet slept little that night. Until roused by muffled sounds. Coming through the wall. Behind her, behind the head of the bed. From the room Waylon was in. Something crashed. Then silence.

Violet sat up staring at the wall. Not a sound. She put an ear to the wall. Silence. She knocked on the wall. "Waylon?" No reply. She knocked again. Nothing.

Violet turned on the lamp and climbed out of bed. She walked to the window and pulled back a bit of curtain. There was a heavy fog. Only their vehicles and two others parked before the motel could be seen. Everything else was hidden. She looked at the clock. Three-fifteen. Violet threw on the clothes she had been wearing and unlocked her door. She opened it a crack to look out. Nothing but fog-shrouded shapes in the hazy lights. She opened the door wide enough to stick her head out and looked all around. Nothing but the fog. Listening, she could hear only her own panicked breathing.

Violet slipped out of her room. She crept past her car and Waylon's pickup to the door to his room. It was ajar. She looked all around, but could see nothing moving in the fog. She pushed the door open. The room was dark. "Waylon?" she whispered. She reached in to flip on the light. The room was empty. But the bed had been slept in. A chair and small table had been overturned by the struggle she had heard. The bathroom door was closed.

Casting one final look over her shoulder, Violet stepped into the room and quickly closed and locked the door behind her. She hurried to the bathroom door. "Waylon? Are you in there?" No reply. Violet turned the knob. The door was unlocked. She opened the door and flipped on the light. No one. But the shower curtain was drawn. Violet walked in and with trembling hand pulled the curtain back. Nothing. She quickly backed out of the bathroom. She rushed about the room yanking open drawers. No clothes, no keys, no wallet, no gun. No trace of Waylon.

Violet hurried to the door to unlock it and crack it open. She eased her head out for a look. Still nothing stirred. Violet slipped outside and closed the door behind her. She walked toward her room. Then froze. Waylon's truck was gone. She had walked right past the truck on the way to Waylon's room. Now it was gone. She scanned the parking lot, but could see only the heavy fog. She ran to her door. It was closed. She yanked on the knob. It was locked. She dashed to the office. It was closed, the door locked, the lights out. She turned and peered with mounting panic into the immutable fog.

She saw a dark form come around the end of the building and walk toward her. Suppressing a scream, Violet fled from the office around the other end of the motel. She scurried up the levee. At the top she could see the dark river below her. She looked back. To see her pursuer come around the end of the building. He was moving faster. Violet fled across the top of the levee.

Her foot slipped. She tumbled down the other side toward the river. She scrambled to stop her slide, but her momentum carried her to the river's edge.

"Whoa!" A pair of masculine hands grabbed her to keep her from falling into the water. Violet screamed! Struggled free of the hands. A young man let go of her. Taking a step back, he raised his hands. "Settle down. You almost fell in the river."

Violet scooted back away from him. "Someone's after me!" She looked back up to the top of the levee.

The young man followed her gaze. "I'll go see." He walked over to a small camp fire where a fishing rod lay. Reaching into his tackle box, he pulled out a knife and a pistol. He walked back to Violet. "Can you shoot a gun?" Violet nodded her head yes. "Good. It's loaded and the safety's off." He handed it to her. She took it with both hands and held it steady. He smiled. "It does look like you're comfortable with it. Now don't shoot me when I come back." He walked up the levee with his knife in hand and disappeared into the fog.

Violet gazed all around while gripping the gun in her lap. The fog was denser out over the river. The embers of the small fire glowed. A half-gone six pack of beer sat by the tackle box. The world was quiet, still.

Until the young man returned. "It's me. Don't shoot." He emerged from the fog and came down the levee. He put the knife away in his tackle box. "I didn't see anyone." He reached for his gun, but saw Violet wasn't anxious to relinquish it. "You can keep it. I was just going to put the safety on." Violet put the safety on. The young man smiled. "It's good to see you know how to handle a gun. Less chance of me getting shot. You look cold." He placed some kindling on the embers and fanned them. As the flames crackled to life, he placed several big pieces on.

Violet scooted closer to the fire. "Not cold. Just scared shitless." The young man laughed as he settled down beside her. In the glow of the rekindled fire she got a better look at him. He was younger than her, late teens or early twenties. His rail of a bony body was clad in jeans and tee shirt. He possessed an uncomplicated clean-shaven face. Pale skin contrasted sharply with his collar-length coal black hair. Violet managed a weak smile in return. "Sorry to barge in on your fishing."

"No problem. It's not every night a beautiful woman rolls right into my arms. Makes me not care if I catch anything else tonight or not." She gratefully accepted the beer he offered. "You staying at the motel?"

Violet took a long swig. "I got locked out of my room. And the office is closed."

"Then someone started chasing you. Do you know who?"

"No."

"Then how…"

"I've been warned that people are out to kill me."

The young man smiled. "I feel that way whenever I drive on the Interstate."

"Someone did try to kill me! In Cincinnati! "

His smile dissolved. "So what do you want to do? Go to the police? I'll drive you there."

Violet shook her head. "There's nothing I can go to the police with."

"Then here's my suggestion. Why don't you get some sleep in my truck?" He motioned off in the distance. In the fog she could barely make out the dark form of a pickup parked on top of the levee. "The motel office opens at eight. I'm staying here all night fishing anyway. I'll wake you when the office opens and you can get back into your room. How's that sound?"

Violet broke into a large smile. "That sounds wonderful. I'm exhausted. It's been a long day."

The young man stood and offered a hand. Violet killed the beer and took it. She offered his gun back after he pulled her to her feet. "Keep it," he said with a smile. "If it makes you feel safer."

Violet returned the smile. "Thank you. I couldn't have rolled into a better person." As he led her toward his pickup, Violet offered, "I'm Violet."

The young man answered, "Garth."

Violet jerked back while raising the gun and releasing the safety. "I heard that name today. In El Jay."

He appeared perplexed at her hostile reaction. "Garth? It's a common name here."

"What's your last name?"

"Brooks." Violet stared blankly. "That was supposed to be a joke. I guess you don't listen to country music."

"Show me your driver's license."

"What is this?" Garth snapped with exasperation. She raised the gun with both hands. He stepped back. "I hope I don't regret giving you that gun."

Violet wavered. "I'm sorry. I've just been through so much today."

"Okay. Now I'm going to reach for my wallet. Don't shoot." Garth pulled out his wallet and extracted his driver's license.

Violet took it then retreated to look it over. His name was Garth Williams, with a Barboursville address. Violet looked up at him and began to cry. "I'm so sorry." She offered the gun and license.

Garth took both with a sigh of relief. "Apology accepted. It's not like this is the first time a woman's ever waved a gun in my face."

Violet tried to stop crying. "It's not?"

"I had a mean girlfriend."

Her sobs morphed to a giggle. "Had?"

"Couldn't hang around a woman with a temper like hers for long. How about you?"

"I had a boyfriend. He didn't have a bad temper. He didn't have any feelings at all. He was a cold heartless manipulative…"

"I get the picture." Garth led Violet the rest of the way to his truck. There was a cap on the bed. He opened the tailgate and showed her the thin mattress and pillow and blanket inside. "Sometimes if I get tired of fishing and I've had too much to drink I sleep in here." He helped her up into the truck bed.

Violet stretched out on the mattress. "I'm so sorry. I'm a mess. You wouldn't believe what I've been through. But that doesn't excuse me. To threaten you with a gun. After you saved my life. That's terrible."

"I don't know about saving your life." Violet smiled and leaned out to kiss him. Then she settled down under the blanket. "I'll be right over here by the fire," Garth said, once he recovered from the unexpected kiss. "Yell if you need anything."

Violet watched him walk back to the fire and pick up a fishing rod. She closed her eyes with a smile.