“Woah, hey man, it’s not my fault, I’m just throwing out ideas here.”
“I know, I’m just frustrated. I’m sorry,” Elijah sighed. “I know I’m missing something, I just don’t know what. She loved her kids, where the hell would she get the idea that she killed them from?”
“I don’t know, but look, maybe it’s time you accepted that you can’t help everyone,” Paul said, knowing that it was a futile discussion. Elijah would never give up on Delores. He’d already proved how much he loved her, and how much he was willing to risk for her.
“I’m not even going to reply to that, Paul,” Elijah bit out.
“Fine, well look, the reason I was calling is because we have a witness, someone who saw Delores before she got to the Grand Canyon. And she’s up your way. I’m not sure if she can tell you anything useful, but it’s a lead all the same. And someone has to follow up on it.”
“Who is it?”
“A woman called Sally Kealing. Met Delores in a truck stop where she works,” Paul spoke from memory. “Saw your girl on the news during a missing persons bulletin and phoned in about it.”
“Where is she staying? I’ll go speak to her first thing,” Elijah said, feeling some small ounce of hope at discovering more about Delores’s whereabouts from when she went missing.
“Funny thing, or not actually. She’s at the hospital where Delores is. Different wing of course. Her kid has cancer, he’s being treated there. I’ve told her that you’ll be getting in contact. I’ll send you over all the details, and hey.”
“What?”
“I’m going to get some photos of the kids tomorrow, if I can, and I’ll send them over to you. Okay?”
“That’s great, Paul,” Elijah felt a glimmer of hope.
“No problem, man. I’m not sure how much it’ll help, but it’s better than nothing right now. Keep me informed with how she is, please.” Paul had done a full circuit of his neighborhood, and he now stood back outside his home, staring up at the lit windows. The curtains twitched at the bedroom window and with a sigh Paul said goodbye and hung up. He walked towards his front door, looking back briefly at the quiet night air, and then he went inside his home.
Chapter Thirty-Eight.
Elijah
Elijah kept on driving, the blackness of night like a blanket wrapped around his car.
The more he drove, the angrier he felt. Because the angrier he felt, the more it became obvious that someone had made her think that way. At least, someone wasn’t doing anything to stop her thinking that way.
Delores’s condition, alongside her depression, meant she was highly susceptible to things if she didn’t keep up with her medication. Though Elijah had seen her on numerous times take it, he knew that something wasn’t right. Someone had to have been messing with her meds, because it was the only thing he could think that would make her believe so strongly that she had done something so horrific.
By the time he was pulling in front of his motel again, it was past midnight. Sleep was clawing at his tired eyes, but his mind was still running in overdrive. He climbed out and went up to his room. He sat on the edge of the bed and stared into the dark, unsure of what to do now.
Elijah had never felt so useless in all his life, and Elijah was not a useless man. He was a fixer. A doer. He made things right. He always had. His job, his life, the people he knew—they all depended on him because of his ability to make things right, to see clearly when things were unclear. To work out a problem with his logical mind. Only now it didn’t work. Now, with Delores in the mix, her confused mind and beautiful soul worked its way into his bones and made his mind confused. He couldn’t think straight.
And so now, for once, he didn’t know what to do.
Delores and her life were like a jigsaw puzzle that needed to be put together, a complicated jigsaw where none of the pieces made any sense and nothing fit. With every solution, a new problem was born. With every new problem he came across another road that needed travelling and thinking about. Yet he knew that the answer was staring him in the face.
Elijah went to the bathroom and undressed, letting his clothes fall in a pile on the floor. He turned the shower on and climbed in under the warm water. The heat washed away some of the tension in his shoulders, pounding on the aches and pains in his back, and he turned the heat up until it was as hot as he could physically stand. Elijah closed his eyes and let the water wash down over his face. He breathed out of his mouth, soft bubbles of air clinging to his lips as the water continued to stream down his weary body. The hotel soaps were bland and cheap, their scent indistinct with barely any suds no matter how hard Elijah rubbed the crude bar over his skin.
When he was clean, he turned the water off, but he made no move to get out. Instead he stayed in the shower, letting the water drip from the showerhead, tapping him on the head every now and then as a reminder that it was there. A reminder to think. Each tap a jolt to his subconscious.
Drip. Think.
Drip. Think.
Drip…thi—!
As soon as the name slipped into his mind, a face attached to the name, and then the name on his own lips, he knew. He knew he was right. Slowly the pieces of the jigsaw began to meld themselves together, completing the small piece of the picture that Elijah had been struggling to build. It was obvious and simple, and he was angrier at himself for not realising it sooner.
It was Michael.
It had always been Michael.
