The Killing Hour

I look over at Jo. She’s staring silently at me, looking me up and down. My clothes look like I’ve ironed wrinkles into them. The cuts on my face are slowly starting to heal.

I use the bathroom, then head into the kitchen. I start making coffee, hoping it will help dilute the weird feeling of waking up in a strange room and worrying about kidnapping and death. I untie Jo and take out the gag but she continues her silence. I don’t know what to say to her. I fight the urge to call out ‘sorry’ over and over as she uses the bathroom. She takes her suitcase in with her and when she comes out she’s changed into a T-shirt and a pair of cargo pants.

‘I made you some coffee,’ I say. She doesn’t bother to thank me as she picks it up. I sit well back in case she throws it in my face. ‘Look, I know that this must seem pretty weird …’

‘Weird? Jesus, Charlie, it’s gone way past weird.’

‘Sure, maybe you’re right, but …’

‘But what? But it’s going to be okay? Is that it? You tied me up and now you want me to be your friend?’

‘I wasn’t going to put it like that.’

‘Whatever. I’m hungry. Are you going to make me starve too?’

‘There isn’t any food here.’

‘Then let’s go get some.’

‘Why? So you can ditch me the first chance you get?’

‘I’ve had all night to think about it, Charlie, and I’ve decided to help you because I really think you could do with it. Maybe I feel like I owe you something, and maybe I’m remembering the way you used to be, or maybe I’m just as crazy as you are right now. Show me what you need to and at the end of the day it becomes my decision whether I stay or go.’

‘Yeah, right.’

‘I mean it, Charlie. I promise I won’t try and get away. Just don’t tie me up any more, okay? We’ll go out, get some breakfast and then I’ll help you. But only for today. At the end you have to let me go. I think you owe me that. In fact I think you owe me that at the very least. I give you my full co-operation but you give me yours when the day’s over. And if I decide to go to the police at that point it’s my decision, not yours. Is it a deal?’

I wish I could believe she isn’t lying, because life would be a lot easier if she was with me rather than against me. ‘I don’t know,’ I say, and the funny thing is I really don’t. That’s what wanting to believe will do to you.

‘Charlie, you’ve been nothing but a bastard since you came around last night, but I know that’s not you, I know that’s not the real you, and I know that sooner or later you have no choice but to let me go. That means you have to start trusting me, right? For God’s sake, Charlie, you might as well start now. What do you think I’m going to do? Write a note on the bill for the waitress to send help?’

She makes a good case. Jo isn’t the sort of person to deceive me, not after all we’ve done together. Our lives were entwined – we were lovers, best friends, and I’ve kept the knot in place by kidnapping her. It’s time I started trusting her. Only the last twelve hours have destroyed all of that. I’ve taken all of those years we’ve known each other and poisoned them with paranoia and fear.



‘Look, I’ll bring you back some breakfast, okay? I promise. Then we’ll talk.’

I can’t take her with me because if the police showed up at her house last night then her picture may already be circulating in the news. I can’t take her with me because if I was in her situation I’d be doing what I could to escape. She doesn’t resist as I tie her to the bed. I turn on the TV. It hums for a few seconds – the picture comes and goes and then settles. The top right corner of the tube is purple as if a magnet has recently rested there. There’s an old black-and-white movie on. It’s about vampires. They’re being chased by bad acting and poor directing. I recognise none of the actors but all of the lines. I leave the TV on for Jo and hang up the ‘do not disturb’ sign on my way out.

The café is one of those small Mum and Dad places that probably gets more business from nearby factories than from the motel. It seats around twenty people inside and another seven or eight out. The smell of coffee and bacon makes the warm atmosphere inside even more appealing. I wish I could stay all morning. The rooms are painted orange and red and there’s enough hardwood from the floors to the furniture to the edging around the ceiling and walls to make an ark. I’m served by a short waitress in her late forties with a haircut that should be in a museum. She smiles as she takes down my order. A nametag on her uniform says her name is Dot but sometimes nametags lie. She brings me coffee that’s on a par with the cup I had at the motel. I realise I’m as nervous as hell. Does anybody here know who I am? I order bacon and eggs. The bacon is slightly overcooked just the way I like it. The eggs too. I must look like a competitive food eater as I shovel them into my mouth. I buy some food to go and pick up a newspaper on the way back.