I still had my cell phone but I knew enough from cop shows that to make a call from my cell phone was tantamount to announcing my location on a bullhorn. So I called from the motel phone and prayed that there was no way for the clerk to listen in to my conversation. The phone rang once, twice…

“Hello.”

“Amber, it’s me.”

“Mathew?” She whispered, “Where are you?” I could hear the springs of her mattress recoil as she got out of bed and the creak of floorboards as she stepped barefoot across a hardwood floor and then I heard her close a door and turn on a faucet in an effort to conceal our conversation.

“I can’t say right now, in case they’re listening.”

“Do you know what a shit storm you’ve started?”

“Yes, I’ve seen the news.”

“It’s not just that.” She sounded as though she were about to cry, “They’ve been here asking questions. They talked to Charlie. He’s been acting kinda weird. I think he knows about us.”

“He can’t know. The police don’t know anything for sure. I told them you were just a client.”

“Well if they’re listening to our telephone conversation they sure as hell know now Mathew!”

“Look, they’re probably not listening. A phone tap is a difficult thing to obtain. But just in case, I need to talk to you somewhere else. I want you to call me from a different number tomorrow. Call my cell phone. I won’t answer but I’ll call you right back. Do you know someone you can trust to let you make a private call?”

“Yes, I can call from…”

“Don’t say it. Just call me tomorrow whenever you can. I’ll get off at the nearest exit after you call and I’ll call you right back.”

“I’m a little scared Mathew. Charlie can be kinda crazy when he gets jealous.”

“He wouldn’t hurt you would he?”

“He never has before, but then I’ve never done this before.”

“Do you still think I have a sexy voice? Or are you sorry we ever met?”

She just sighed. “Well?”

“Yes.”

“Sorry we ever met?”

“We’ve never actually met ya idiot! Yes, I still think you have a sexy voice.”

“Believe it or not you’re my only friend…and I’m glad it’s you.”

“Yeah, yeah lover, me too.”

* * *

I had begun to have erotic dreams. I attributed the events to stress and a lack of sleep, although it is quite possible that I dreamt such dreams on many occasions before and never knew it due to the depth and soundness of my sleep.

One of my erotic dreams, my most recent dream, was the reason why I asked the hotel clerk for separate beds.

Sarah had been quite used to sleeping in my bed all of her life. She would sneak into my room for a half hour before school in the morning and “snuggle”, or she would fall asleep watching television sandwiched between

Catherine and I until Catherine would evoke an “I told you so” after Sarah had fallen asleep where she was not permitted. Also, on the occasions when I was frozen out of Catherine’s company, I would, as I have already confessed, espouse Sarah by spending the night with her cuddling on the couch. And ever since Sarah was an infant up until she was perhaps four or five she would fall asleep on my chest and to be honest I swam in the warm feeling she gave me by being so close to me, our hearts beating just inches apart for hours on end, her utter dependence and helplessness my crack cocaine, fueled my need to be needed, giving me a high like no drug could ever give. Being a father was something that I absolutely enjoyed. And after Catherine died I held Sarah in my arms regularly through the nights to comfort not only her but me as well. In short, I consciously espoused her. And while it clearly was a moral violation to confuse her so, I fully intended to cease espousing her once we overcame our grief. But alas the issue was forced when I had an erotic dream involving Sarah. When I awoke I was so appalled at myself that I was forced to make my way into the bathroom and as I vomited I made my mind up to insure that Sarah and I slept in separate beds from that point on. Not that I was worried that I would violate her. I loved her far too much to do so, but I realized that it was unhealthy for both Sarah and for me to confuse our roles. When Sarah awoke, it was the morning of the day when detective Bergant came to my house to tell me of Catherine’s poisoning; I had a difficult time looking her in the eyes. I felt as though I had actually defiled her. I showered for over half an hour that morning but I couldn’t wash my own self-loathing from my flesh. I couldn’t believe that such a monster lived within me. Perhaps, I supposed, it was just an expression of my unconditional love for her, that somehow, subconsciously, given the inseparable human association of sex with love, that I was demonstrating my love through the ultimate means. Is it possible that Freud skipped a chapter? I took solace in this rationalization regardless of the flaws it posed.

As it turned out, as I lay awake at five in the morning staring at the cracking yellowed plaster above my hotel bed in Louisville Kentucky in the din of the bathroom light, separate beds were not necessary, nor any bed at all for me. I didn’t sleep a wink that night. How could I? In less than an hour I would have to venture out into the dark and face my phobia, and then I would have to navigate some turbulent waters in avoiding the police and possibly risking Sarah’s safety in the process. But what choice did I have? If I had left Sarah behind with Catherine’s parents she would have been mentally scarred for life. And truthfully what would the point have been in running without her. My life without Sarah had no meaning. If I had left her behind I might just as well have turned myself in to the authorities.

So I rose from my bed and brushed my teeth and then packed our things into the overnight bag. I applied my disguise: a thin application of self-tanning agent and a pair of low powered reading glasses. With my black hair and beard I thought that I looked quite different. I laid out Sarah’s disguise, the baseball-cap and shirt and a pair of blue-jeans. I dressed her in her sleep and then laid her back down upon the bed before I grabbed our bag and then I slipped out through the front door and made my way into the night. To my surprise, with the sleep deprivation I had incurred that night; my level of alertness was actually heightened. It was no blessing. Every creak of a branch, every rustle of leaves or wind blown whistle through empty metal drum sent my fear-factor souring. I jumped and started at infinitesimal flash images of demons as real to me as my own heart that pounded so heavily against my chest that I could see and feel the thump of my pectoral push out against my shirt in violent throbs.

I crept around to the back of the building jumping out of my skin at every sound. Once at the corner of the building I hid in the shadows and surveyed the street for any sign of the police and I nearly urinated in my trousers when a cat meowed as it passed between my legs and rubbed against my ankle. I slinked to the car and tossed my bag into the back seat and left the car door slightly ajar. I moved along the side of the car and slid my hand across the cold tin skin of the cars body looking for the holes where the bullets had pierced. Finding the first of the three holes I knew of, I dug into the cold wet clay at my feet with my fingers and I scooped up a clump of mud and I pressed it into the cavity of the cars body to hide the wound. I felt and found the final two holes just below the driver side door and packed them with clay before I crept back to my room for Sarah. Once inside it took every bit of my will to garner the courage to pick Sarah up and carry her out into the dark. “Its okay baby,” I said to her as I buckled her in and peered into the back seat to make sure that nothing scary lurked there.

The engine disrupted the quiet of the darkness and I was wary that it might awaken the few other motel guests that lay sleeping, but there were no windows on the rear of the building and I saw no sign that I had disturbed anyone’s slumber. I crept onto the grey asphalt of the two lane highway and I throttled the engine as I turned the headlights on and headed west toward the freeway. I passed long patches of woods divided by the occasional driveway along the unlit two lane highway but there was no sign of life; no light; no sound; no police.