The Plodder's Mile -- Chapter Sixteen

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Paula was also having a difficult time talking. Her mouth was moving over Greg’s in a passionate kiss that kept his attention. He was hoping this was what she had meant when she sent Smitty away. He was tired of looking at John’s house anyway. But to make sure, he stopped her, and gently holding her shoulders, he asked her, “Are you sure you want to do this, Paula? I mean, last night you seemed like you wanted to wait.”

Paula pulled him off the couch onto the floor. She kissed his lips once again, and then sat up to talk. Greg sat up on the floor across from her.

“You’re right, Greg, we should wait.” He seemed disappointed. “But we don’t have to; because last night was about what I thought you were thinking about me. I’m so forward sometimes; I must seem like a tramp.”

Greg started to protest, but she wanted to continue, so she held one finger on his lips.

“Let me get this out all at once, and then, I think you’ll understand what I’m talking about,” she said. He took her finger and kissed it lightly, then sat back to listen.

“This is complicated, but I think I can sum it up quickly.” She tossed her blonde hair back with the confidence he liked so much about her. She was trying to give herself enough confidence to talk.

“I’m not old, but I feel like I’ve been through way too many painful relationships. It started in high school when I thought the strong silent type meant a man that would listen to me and protect me. What happened is most of those guys were just quiet when they hit me.”

Greg frowned. This was going to be difficult for Paula to get through. He wanted to reach out and hold her while she spoke, but her body language was saying she wanted to do this on her own, and get it over. There was a possibility of happiness, she seemed to be saying, and Greg wanted her to be happy most of all.

“I thought I was smarter once I got out of college, even though the men I was attracted to only wanted me for display, to impress their friends. I tried a couple of other relationships, but they were all the same. I was sacrificing myself and my life for them, and they were happy to use me.”

She paused and bit her lip. “The last guy almost killed me. He was strangling me when I kicked him where it counts, and ran into the street. He probably would have dragged me back into the house and finished the job if the guy up the street hadn’t been walking his dog at just the right time.”

Greg moved one hand to her shoulder and she nuzzled it. Then she put it back down on his leg.

“Almost done, I promise,” she whispered. “It was three years of therapy and a longer trial before he wound up in jail. When I met you, I knew I could wait until you were ready. Now I might be rushing things, so I guess you get to talk now and tell me…”

Her lip was trembling.

Greg said, “I hope I was worth the wait.” She looked long and hard into his eyes and smiled the smile he remembered from the first time they had met. Why she had chosen him, he would never understand. But right now was not the time to think of that. She rose up on her knees facing him, and as he sat up facing her, they kissed tenderly at first, and then gave in to the passion that had been building for two years.

This was not looking good. Another beat-up pick-up truck was coming down the road. “Looks like he invited the whole neighborhood,” said Ray to himself. If he was going to do anything, it would have to be soon. The old guy had probably called the cops, too. When Joe had gone into the house, he had borrowed what looked like a high-powered rifle with a scope. The guy pulling up had his own gun, which he took from the gun rack in the truck and joined the twosome leaning against Simon’s old truck.

But why did he wait so long to call them? Was this some kind of sadistic fun for the farmer? Maybe there was just not enough for these old guys to do around here, Ray mused. But then his mind started to clear, and he realized that this was about the money. The farmer had known Ray was wanted, so it made sense that he would know about the robbery. The old guy wanted some of the money! That’s why the cops hadn’t shown up.

Ray thought for a minute more, and made some decisions. If he was going to get out of here, it would have to be now.

Simon was surprised to see the crook coming out with his hands up. All three farmers raised their guns suspiciously, and they instinctively spread out around Ray. After about twenty steps Ray stopped with three guns pointing at him from various angles. He put his hands down.

Simon barked, “Put ‘em back up, Sonny. Lots of sharp stuff in the barn. Let’s see what’s in your pockets.” Ray almost smiled inside, expecting to be frisked, but then again, these guys weren’t cops. He pulled out his pants pockets to show they were empty. Except for a wad of bills.

“I figure this is what you’re after, since no cops have shown up.”

“Yet,” Simon added, not denying the money was a main interest.

“So, I figure, I give you what I have, and you’ll let me go get the rest.”

The three looked at each other with questions in their eyes, but they had learned the value of silence. Let the other guy talk, and he would often show you his whole hand while you hid yours.

Ray realized they didn’t understand and tried to explain. “Look, do you think I’d stick around here after I robbed a bank if I still had the money? Some jerk took the rest and left this as evidence with the police. I only have about $2500, but I figure if you three split it up…” Ray “accidentally” dropped the wad to the ground.

Joe went for the money since he was closest, and that was all Ray needed. As the tip of the gun dipped toward the dirt, he grabbed it and pushed Joe over. Running just enough to get both of the others in range, he spun and shouted.

“Throw the guns down or I shoot you now!!”

The other two lowered their weapons. “Now throw me your keys, old man,” Ray growled. Simon dug in his pockets and tossed them in the dirt in front of Ray. Picking them up, he scowled at Simon and said, “I should shoot you right now, after you made me crawl in the dirt, and look at the nice pattern you left on my forehead. But you may be worth more to me alive than dead, especially since you’ve probably already called the cops.”

Simon practiced being stone-faced. Ray wondered how long he had before they would have company. “Both of you lie down,” he said.

Simon broke the silence as then crawled to the ground. “The cops will be here any time, so if you’re going to go, now might be a good time.” It didn’t sound like cowardice, and it did make for some good advice. When Simon said it, it almost sounded calm and brave. He knew he had made the mistake of being greedy, and he was ready to pay with his life if it was needed. But Ray detected the note of urgency and interpreted that as confirmation that the police would be here soon.

But maybe he still had enough time to take care of the injuries that had been done to him.

Greg spoke first. He turned to Paula, and stroking her beautiful hair, asked her, “Why me?”

There was a puzzled look on her face. “Why not you? Is there something I should know?” she said smiling slightly.

“No, I have no deep dark secrets, except that I’m an idiot when it comes to romance,” he admitted freely. “I’m just surprised a great catch like you would be interested in small-fry like me.”

Now she was running her fingers through his hair. “That’s one of the most attractive things about you, Greg,” she said. She pulled him close for a long, tender kiss.

Then she pushed his chest back a bit with her hand and said, “You don’t get it, but men who brag about themselves aren’t very interesting. You’re the right kind of strong but silent type. You don’t know your own strengths, so that’s why you are silent about it.”

Greg was now looking puzzled.

“Sorry,” she said. “I guess that doesn’t make much sense to you. But here’s one way I can explain it. Do you remember about the old boyfriend you helped arrest?”

Greg nodded.

“Well, I also said it took me another year to finally start paying attention to what a great man you really are. Do you remember a year after the car chase?”

Greg was searching, and usually not being very good at memory games, was about to give up. “The Dobson kidnapping!”

“Right”, she said. “You were up visiting Smitty and we ran into each other at the press briefing.”

Greg said he remembered.

“Well, do you remember what you did later that weekend?”

Greg did remember it, very vividly.

Greg was riding around with Smitty as the negotiations with the kidnapper were slowing up. Smitty mentioned something about the strange noises coming across the phone during the last call, and said something about the whistle.

“What did it sound like?” asked Greg.

“It was really strange,” said Smitty, “kind of a shrieking noise, but repeated several times. Not even really a whistle, but I can’t place it.”

Greg thought for a moment, and then asked, “Could it be train brakes in the background?”

Smitty smiled, slowly at first, and then it became full-faced and excited. “It did sound like train brakes!” He swerved the car around and they arrived at the train station in moments. As they drove closer to the main station house, they looked for warehouses with lights still on. Most of the workers should have gone home by this time of night.

Smitty got on the radio for back-up as they pulled next to a warehouse with office lights on. He was hoping this wasn’t a wild goose chase, and as he was talking on the phone, the station informed him the kidnapper was on the phone again. Smitty asked to have a microphone stuck by the speaker so they could hear.

As the train behind them squealed, the same sound came across the speaker in the car, and Harold Smith radioed back that they were in the exact area of the phone call. Unfortunately, the scanners at the news stations also picked this up, and suddenly there were dozens of police cars and news wagons showing up.

As the crowd increased, the kidnapper came out holding the little girl in front of him. Waving his gun and warning everyone to get back, he made his way to Smitty’s car. Greg could see the little girl had been crying, and she was looking truly terrified with all of the cars, lights and people staring at her.

Greg had walked slowly up to the kidnapper and softly said, “Let her go. If you need a hostage, take me instead. But don’t make her suffer anymore.”

He saw the gun pointed directly at his head, and waited while his offer sank in. The man loosed his hold on the girl and grabbed Greg by the arm. Sharpshooters nearby took the opening and fired only twice.

Greg heard the shots ring out, and scooped the little girl up to protect her from the sight of the blood-spattered body. Carrying her over to Smitty’s car, he tried to comfort her. Asking her name, where she went to school, and telling her that her mom and dad were on the way seemed to calm her enough, but by then the cameras were rolling. They captured a caring officer doing his best to protect the innocent.

A special citation from the governor had followed. But Greg had forgotten that Paula was standing right next to the cameraman, and it was her “Paula Jones exclusive” which had helped give Greg the most publicity.

“Do you remember what you said to that little girl, Greg?”

Although it had been on tape, he hadn’t watched it in over two years. But Paula kept a special copy near her video player at home. She gently took his chin in her hand and said softly to him, “You said, ‘Everything is going to be all right. I won’t let any bad men hurt you any more.’ And then you kissed her on the forehead.”

There was an awkward moment of silence, but Paula spoke again.

“I’ve played that tape a hundred times, Greg, she said softly. “It always makes me feel safe. And it reminds me exactly why I love you so much.”

Greg now leaned in and kissed Paula softly. “Thanks for waiting for me,” he said, and then he kissed her forehead.

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