River: A Bad Boy Romance (24 page)

“Silver Lexus”, Hank says.

“Silver Lexus”, Thurston repeats.

“Well how about that?” Hank says with a smug grin of satisfaction on his face. “Not reported stolen. What did I tell you? You wait 'til I tell her about this. She's going to eat a whole damn six slice cake of humble pie, you see if I don't make her. Now lets see who it's registered to.”

“It's registered to a River Woods”, Thurston says.

“Sounds like a national geographic documentary”, Hank says, and they both laugh.

“Twenty seven years old, white male. He's listed here as an accountant at Juniper Glade Hotel.”

A picture of River wearing a suit and tie, and a pair of black, square rimmed glasses appears on the screen. It doesn't look like him at all, but it's definitely him.

“Well how about that?” Hank says again. “I think I might have stayed at one of those.”

“Everything checks out”, Thurston says. “He doesn't even have any penalty points.”

“Clean as a whistle, Sal's going to love that'”, Hank says, chuckling to himself.

“You want me to call the company, just to check. Perhaps his car has been stolen and he doesn't know it.”

“No way”, Hank says. “What's rule number one of this department?” He points at the whiteboard behind them, where are list of rules have been crudely written.

“Don't look for a crime if one doesn't already exist”, Thurston says, reading the note word for word.

“Exactly”, Hank says. “We're far too busy here to go ringing around people to check to see if their cars have been stolen. If he reports it, we find it, otherwise we don't have a crime. Besides which, Juniper Glade have hotels all over the place, that's a big company to start calling. Sounds like way too much effort to me. If it's been stolen, I'm sure River will notice and give the police a call.”

“You don't think he could have stolen it? You know, the robber, without River realising it?” Thurston says, asking the questions he believes a good cop should ask, from several years watching his TV counterparts do the same.

“What the hell would she be doing driving it, if she's supposed to be his hostage? I reckon that dear old sister of mine saw something she wanted to see, so she could get herself involved and end up on TV. You know how obsessed she is with being the centre of attention all the time. No one else has rung in saying they've spotted this Mandy Parker.”

“Maddy Parker”, Thurston quickly corrects him.

“No, we've done what she asked, even prioritised it too. After lunch I'll go down there and tell her what we found. And after that, she can believe what she likes.”

Hank screws up the piece of paper with the license plate number on and throws it towards the bin, missing by a metre and a half.

“Shall I carry on with the floor plan?” Thurston asks him, when he's back at his desk.

“You carry on with whatever needs to be done”, Hank tells him, leaning back in his chair and putting his feet up on the desk, where they nestle comfortably into an indent rubbed into the wood, from several years of relaxing in the same position.

“T
hat's it?” Maddy says, looking at the border control and the wide expanse of land on the other side of the fence that looks exactly the same as the side they are on, with, if anything, a slightly smaller town. “That's Mexico?”

“That's freedom”, River says.

They've parked the car side on, so both of them can see. It's a reasonably busy border crossing, not the most active or popular of them all, but definitely not a line in the dirt with a hut and a wooden barrier, keeping people either out or in. Here they'll check documents thoroughly enough to make you feel like a criminal, even if you're not. If the police don't have his name yet, River knows he'll be fine. If they do, it'll only be a matter of time before they catch him anyway, time he might as well spend wisely, before it's taken away from him altogether. For armed robbery, he'll be looking at fifteen years, possibly more than that with the murdered civilian. Either way it's a long way down if he happens to fall.

A guard spits in the dirt and wipes it away with his shoe. River watches the way he holds his gun, having seen that stance in several eager men, a hundred times before. It says, 'give me an opportunity to use this, and I won't hesitate to take it.'

The Lexus, in which they sit, has been registered in his name through Buck's business, and is completely legitimate. It was parked exactly where he found it, the morning of the raid, because he put it there himself as back up. In the event that something went wrong, which it eventually did, he would change back to his own car, as long as he could do so without being seen. What he hadn't counted on was having a hostage with him, which hasn't necessarily changed his plan, only made it a riskier one. A risk he would retake again and again until the fabric of time dissolved around him.

The car can easily be traced back to him, but can only be linked to the bank via Maddy. There is nothing else that puts him there at the crime scene, apart from the fingerprints he left in the Oldsmobile, that the police will have failed to match up to anyone, because neither himself or Buck, have ever allowed them to be taken and put into the system. Buck has kept River away from a life of crime for as long as he has been able to, and thankfully for River, that has been long enough.

He figures he'll be safe, as long as nobody recognises Maddy, and if they do, then he'll still be fine, if nobody puts a face and a name to her companion.

“Are you scared?” Maddy says.

“I don't know”, River says. “Ask me that again when I'm on the other side.”

“Are you really going to do it?”

“I haven't got another option, Princess”, River says. “Why, you having second thoughts?”

“I'll tell you that when you're on the other side”, Maddy says.

“It might be too late then”, River says.

“I hope not.”

“I'm going to take you somewhere”, River says, gunning the car into action, and driving away from the border back into the town. “You ever been on a Ferris wheel before?”

“A Ferris wheel?”, Maddy asks.

“Yeah”, River says. “A Ferris wheel. Don't ask me why, but right here in town, they used to have one of the biggest Ferris wheels in the United States, I kid you not. It was like it didn't ever belong, but there it was, like it had grown up by itself out of the dirt, and because of that, no-one ever tried to do anything other than accept it. If it's still here I want to take you on it.”

“You want to spend what could be your last afternoon in the United States, riding an ancient Ferris wheel with me?”

“We can get lunch afterwards if you like”, River quips.

“Can I choose it?” Maddy asks.

“Only if you promise to have another beer with me when we eat”, River says.

“I reckon I can do that”, Maddy says.

The town centre is like a thousand other's she's seen already. The same shops, the same people, even the same smells, as though it's all been created in a factory, and rolled out to order. As she watches the people, and the couples particularly, she wonders how many people are happy. She wonders how many people amongst the billions out there in the world can say beyond a shadow of doubt that they are truly happy.

High rise flat blocks blot the horizon as they drive, one coming after the next, like an endless row of dominoes, that Maddy pretends to knock down, with one eye closed and her finger out to cheat the perspective. All of a sudden, as though revealed like a dove at the conclusion of a magic trick, the bowed metal of the Ferris wheel, still turning slowly after all these years, looms large above them, like the gaping jaws of a gigantic metal shark. It is all of a sudden there, so disconnected from what surrounds it, Maddy can hardly believe it exists at all. Like a metal bush, the carriages of which could be flowers, it tangles and towers above everything else, demanding to be seen.

“There it is”, River says, in case Maddy has failed to notice it.

“No shit”, Maddy says, opening the window for a better look. “It's definitely still going.”

River isn't sure if it's the yellow carriage with an 88 on it, or the one which seems to have rusted away entirely, the memory having faded so long ago, he's not even sure how old he was when it happened. It doesn't matter, just being here is enough. It seems a fitting place to remind himself what it's like to be happy, and remember that once, a long time ago, there was a mother and a father that despite everything else that came after, for that moment at least, really did love him.

T
he wrought iron beast is even more impressive close up. The base is a solid block of metal composite the size of a basketball court, with reinforcing struts dug so deep into the earth, it would take days just to find the ends. The wheel itself, with metal poles long since shifted out of place, sits like a tangled thorn of crowns placed sideways, while the top sways worrying in the breeze, like an old drunk walking back home after a skin full. The whole thing creaks as it moves, moaning like a pantomime ghost, and giving every impression that at any moment it could fall in on itself. It is however, despite its appearance, surprisingly solid, rooted in place like an old sequoia. It sits fenced off, like an old museum relic, in the heart of the busy town, loved and loathed in equal measure by everyone who has to live with it. Like the man who acts as the operator, and has done for as many years as anyone can remember, sitting there day in day out, come rain or shine, like an Arthurian guard protecting a legend, it refuses to die.

Maddy stares up at the very top, squinting her eyes into the sun beyond.

“Are you serious?” she says.

“Incredible isn't it?” River says, as excited as a young boy.

“It must be a hundred years old!”

“If it isn't I'd want to know why it's busted up like that”, River says. He has his foot on the railing and yet another cigarette in his mouth, contemplating the iron giant as though it were something he had to overcome to get across to the other side.

“Is it safe?” Maddy says. “It doesn't look safe.”

“I reckon, due to the fact it's been here for so long, it's probably just as safe, if not safer than anything else built around here.”

“It's moving, and it's creaking”, Maddy says, still not convinced.

“It's a Ferris wheel, Maddy, of course it's moving.”

“No, not like that”, she says, but River has already gone through the gate towards the ticket booth, and Maddy finds herself following.

The old man is asleep when they approach. Maddy isn't sure if he's not just dead. Just before River announces his arrival, the man draws a deep lungful of breath, and opens his eyes.

“Customers”, he says, a twinkle flashing behind a cataract damaged eye.

“Two please”, River says.

“Are you sure it's alright?” Maddy says, still worried.

“I take it you've never been on this before, Miss”, the old man says.

“No”, Maddy says. “I don't know if I want to either.”

“Well she may look like she's been through the wars”, the man says with an air of authority, “but she's not going anywhere. As long as I'm still standing, she'll still be standing too.”

“How much?” River says.

“A dollar ninety each. That's for a thirty minute ride.”

River hands over a one hundred dollar bill. “If you can fix it so it stops at the top for a while, you can keep the change.”

“I reckon I can do that”, the old man says, vanishing the money away so quickly, River wonders if he's put it down at all.

“There isn't anybody else riding it”, Maddy says, still unsure. “Isn't that a bad sign?”

“It's a good sign, Maddy, it means we have the whole thing to ourselves.”

The old man leads them to the raised platform which allows them to get onto the carriages. Here, Maddy can hear the whole structure creaking as though the thing were alive, breathing its very last. She pays close attention to the links between the carriages and the wheel itself, thinking that every single one is about as close to collapsing as they can get, praying the next one that comes around will be the most secure.

The old man disappears to the right, where a lever led box generator the size of a car, provides the power source to put the whole thing in motion. He grips the lever, a slice of treated wood almost half a metre bigger than him, and with a strength that belies him, he pulls hard, just as a new carriage is approaching, to grind the whole thing to a halt.

River gets into the carriage. He's done this before, and knows he has nothing to fear. Of all of the modes of transport he's been on in his life, this is definitely one of the safest and most enjoyable.

“Well come on”, he says to Maddy, hand outstretched.

Maddy can't help but be nervous.

“You want me to give you a push?” The old man says, before adjusting his cap, and wiping a single bead of sweat off his brow.

“What if it falls?” Maddy says.

“Then it falls, and I'll make sure I hold you while we plummet to the earth. Now come on. The views in this thing are incredible.”

Maddy takes River's hand, and tentatively steps inside. The carriage sways a little bit under her feet, like a boat lilting on water, so as soon as she's inside, she finds herself needing to sit down to keep her balance. River closes the door and signals to the old man.

“First timers”, he says to himself, and cranks the machine back into life.

The carriage jolts forward suddenly, and nearly throws Maddy off her seat and onto the floor. She grips anything solid she can hold, eventually settling for River's hand, at the absence of anything else closer, and watches the safety of the earth slowly get further away as they rise.

The old man has his cap in his hand, waving up at them, and Maddy waves back too, careful not to get too close to the window.

The carriage itself is egg shaped, fastened to the wheel with a solid chain link, and dented all over from years of use. It has windows that can be lowered, and glass everywhere but the very top and very bottom, a small piece of which near the side to her right, Maddy finds to her horror is missing. River lowers his window. They are about half way up, and already above some of the smaller buildings. A refreshing breeze swims into the carriage, and up here the air smells different.