Box

18

Clem heads for the door, reaches for the handle, then stops and says, “You’re better off without him, Trudy.”

I cry some more.

“He’s old and weird. You’re young and beautiful.”

He starts to leave again, then pauses to say, “And somethin’ else, if you don’t mind my sayin’. It ain’t right the way that man ejaculates. Our first thought was a half-dozen baboons had a contest to see who could make the biggest mess, and the answer was, all of them. My personal opinion? There’s witchery in it.”

I cry harder, and he finally gives up and leaves the room.

Now I can finally read the note Dr. Box passed me when he leaned over to kiss me goodbye just now.

He’d used his body to block Clem’s view, and placed a small, folded up piece of paper in my hand that was heavier than it should be.

I open it, and a small key falls out.

I smile through my tears.

It’s the key to Daddy’s handcuffs. He must have stolen them from Daddy when he went back in the barn to get his money and cell phone.

The note gives a phone number with a two-one-two area code. Then says, Trudy, I’d run off with you in a heartbeat if I thought you wanted me half as much as you just want to get away. But you can do better than me and we both know it. Last night when I cuffed you to the fence you asked if you could trust me. You can. When you’re feeling up to it, call this number and speak to Robert Bothwell, my private banker. I’ve instructed Robert to wire ten thousand dollars into your personal account every month for the next two years. Now you have a big choice to make: you can finally get out of town, or you can buy your own monster truck! Love, Gideon. PS: I’ll never forget our wild and crazy night!