Page 69 of Survive the Night

She wonders if this, right now, is all just a movie in her mind. It doesn’t matter that Josh can see the cop and Marge can see him and that both spoke to him. All of that could also be part of the movie. A fever dream built out of hope and denial and wishful thinking.

It wouldn’t surprise her if it was. She’s experienced them enough to know the drill. They emerge when she’s stressed and scared and needs to be shielded from the harshness of reality, which describes her current mood in a nutshell.

Sitting in that booth, looking at a cop who may or may not exist, Charlie thirsts for a reality check the same way an alcoholic craves booze. An intense yearning that threatens to overwhelm her. But asking Officer Tom if he’s real isn’t a good idea. Charlie learned herlesson in the rest stop bathroom. She knows that saying what she’s thinking will only make her look crazy and, ultimately, untrustworthy.

Plus, there’s Marge to consider. Poor, innocent Marge, who has yet to realize that inches from her midriff is a knife sharp enough to take out her spleen. If Charlie says or does anything suspicious, Josh might hurt her. He might even kill her. Charlie can’t let that happen. Her conscience, already so burdened, wouldn’t be able to take it.

“So there’s no trouble here?” Officer Tom says.

Charlie forces a smile. “None at all.”

“You sure about that?” His gaze darts to Josh for a moment. “You feel safe in this man’s presence?”

“Of course she does,” Josh says.

“I was asking the lady,” Officer Tom says.

Across the table, Josh gives her an unnerving look. Cold smile, dark eyes, weighted stare. The knife in his hand continues to glisten.

“I feel absolutely safe,” Charlie says. “But thank you for your concern.”

Officer Tom studies her, his gaze surprisingly piercing as he decides whether to believe her.

“I’m sure it was a crank call,” Marge says, deciding for him. “Some bored kid trying to stir up trouble. Now if you stop bothering my customers, I’ll fix you a coffee for the road. On the house.”

She stands.

Josh sets the steak knife back on the table.

Charlie lets slip a tiny huff of relief.

Marge joins Officer Tom at the counter and pours coffee into a to-go cup. “Thanks for checking in on us, Tom. But we’re fine. Isn’t that right, folks?” She turns to Charlie and Josh, giving them an exaggerated wink.

“We’re fine,” Josh says.

“Yes, fine,” Charlie says, a weak echo. She looks to Josh. “In fact, we were just leaving. Weren’t we?”

Josh, surprised, takes a beat before replying. “Yes. We were.”

He slides out of the booth. Charlie does the same and follows him to the door, knowing that she’s about to lose her last chance at rescue.

It’s a risk she needs to take.

A couple of years ago, in one of her elective psych classes, she’d read about kidnap victims who stayed with their captors long after they could have escaped. Stockholm syndrome. The mind warping over time until the abducted came to sympathize with those who took them. At the time, Charlie judged those young women. And they were all young women. Weak, vulnerable, victimized women who didn’t have the good sense to flee at the first opportunity.

“I’d never let that happen to me,” she told Maddy.

But now she understands.

Those women didn’t stay because they were weak.

They stayed because they were scared.

Because they feared what would happen to them if their escape plan failed. That it would be worse than their current situation. And it could always get worse.

In this case, “worse” means Josh doing something rash and hurting not just her but also Marge and Officer Tom in the process. And this has nothing to do with them.

This is between her and Josh.

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