Lawrence Block - Enough Rope

“Like a log. Where do you suppose that expression comes from?”

“I don’t know. I never thought about it. Where are we?”

“On our way to Chicago.”

“What happened to the interstate?”

“It was putting me to sleep,” he said. “Too much traffic, too little scenery. Too many troopers, too. It’s the end of the month and they’ve all got their quotas to make.”

“Oh.”

“I like back roads better,” he said. “Especially at night. You’re not afraid, are you?”

“Why should I be afraid?”

“I just wondered if you were. Some people get agoraphobic, and just being out in wide open spaces bothers them.”

“Not me.”

“I guess you’re not scared of anything, huh?”

She looked at him. His eyes were on the road, his hands steady on the wheel. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing in particular. It’s pretty daring of you, though, when you stop to think of it.”

“What is?”

“Being here. In this car, out in the middle of nowhere with someone you don’t know from Adam.”

“You’re a college student,” she said.

“Am I? You don’t know that for sure. I said I was, that’s all. I’m the right age, more or less, but that doesn’t make me a student.”

“You’ve got a KU decal on your window.”

“You don’t have to pay tuition to get one.” She tried to look at him, but his face was hard to read in the dim light. “You were the one who put the notice up,” he reminded her. “I called you. I gave you a name and said I was a student and I’d be heading for Chicago when the term ended, but I never gave you my phone number or told you where I lived. Did you check up on me at all, find out if there was a student registered under the name I gave you?”

“Hey, cut it out,” she said.

“Cut what out?”

“Cut out trying to freak me out.”

“You’re not scared, are you?”

“No, but—”

“But you’re wondering if maybe you should be. You’re in a car with someone you don’t know on a lonely road you don’t know either, and you’re starting to realize that you don’t have much control over the situation. In fact you don’t really have any control at all, do you?”

“Stop it.”

“Okay,” he said. “Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m not upset.”

“Well, whatever. I’m a psych major and sometimes I tend to get into head games. It’s nothing serious, but if I increased your anxiety level I want to apologize.”

“It’s all right.”

“I’m forgiven?”

“There’s nothing to forgive.”

“Fair enough,” he said. He yawned.

“Are you tired? Do you want me to drive?”

“No, I’m fine,” he said. “And I’m the kind of control freak who uses up twice as much energy when somebody else is driving.”

“My dad’s like that.”

“I guess lots of men are. Could you do me a favor? Could you get me something from the glove compartment?”

“What?”

“Right next to the flashlight there. That leather pouch. Could you hand it to me?”

It was a black leather pouch with a drawstring. She gave it to him and he weighed it in his hand. “What do you suppose is in this?” he asked her.

“I have no idea.”

“Not even a far-fetched one? Take a guess.”

“I couldn’t.”

“Drugs, do you suppose?”

“Maybe.”

“Not drugs,” he said. “I don’t use drugs. Don’t approve of them.”

“Good.”

He reached to set the pouch on top of the dashboard. “You were scared before,” he said.

“A little.”

“But not anymore.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Well, because—”

“When you stop to think about it,” he said, “nothing’s changed. The situation’s the same as it was. You’re alone with a stranger in a dangerous place, and you don’t know anything about the man you’re with, and what could you do if I tried something? You’ve got a purse. Do you happen to have a gun in it?”

“Of course not.”

“Don’t say it that way. Lots of people have guns. But not you, evidently. How about some chemical Mace? Paralyze attackers with no loss of life. Got any of that stuff?”

“You know I don’t.”

“How would I know that? It’s not as though I searched your purse. But I’m willing to take your word for it. No gun and no Mace. What else? A nail file? Some pepper to throw in my eyes?”

“I have an emery board.”

“That’s something. You could sort of saw me in half with it, I suppose, but it’d take a long time. You’re really essentially defenseless, though, aren’t you?”

“Stop it.”

“It’s true, though, isn’t it? If I tried something—”

“What do you mean, tried something?”

“Want me to come right out and say it, huh? Okay. I could stop the car and overpower you and rape you and you couldn’t do a thing about it, could you?”

“I could put up a fight.”

“What would that get you? I’d just have to hurt you and that would take the fight right out of you. You’d be better off giving in from the start and hoping I’d take it easy on you.”

“Look,” she said, “cut it out, huh?”

“Cut what out?”

“You know damn well what you should cut out. Quit doing a number on my mind.”

“It’s getting to you, isn’t it?”

“Look, I told you—”

“I know what you told me. Maybe you ought to consider the possibility that I don’t much care what you want.”

“I don’t like this,” she said. “I just want to get out, okay? Just stop the car and let me out.”

“Are you sure you want me to stop the car?”

“I—”

“Of course it’s not a good idea to get out while we’re sailing along at fifty miles an hour, but you’re safe as long as the car’s moving, aren’t you? If I was going to do anything, I’d really have to stop the car first.”

“Why would you want to—”

“To rape you? I’m a man and you’re a woman. An attractive one, too. Isn’t that enough of a reason?”

“Is it?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re not being very nice.”

“No,” he agreed, “I guess I’m not. You’re really scared now, aren’t you?”

“Stop it.”

“Why do you have so much trouble answering that question? ‘Cut it out. Stop it.’ What’s such a big deal about admitting that you’re scared?”

“I don’t know.”

“You are scared, though. Aren’t you?”

“You’re trying to scare me.”

“Uh-huh, and it seems to be working. You’re terrified, aren’t you? I guess you have a right to be. I mean, there’s a very good chance that you’re going to be raped. At least you think there is, and all on the basis of a brief conversation. You’re beginning to see just how powerless you are. I could do whatever I want with you and you couldn’t do a thing about it.”

“You’d be punished,” she said.

“They wouldn’t know who to punish.”

“I could tell them.”

“You don’t even know my name.”

“You’re a student.”

“Are you sure of that?”

“I could describe you,” she said. “I could describe the car, I could give them the license number.”

“Maybe it’s stolen.”

“I bet it’s not. I could work with a police artist, I could have him make up a sketch of you. You really wouldn’t get away with it.”

“Hmmmm,” he said. “I guess you’re right.”

“So there’s no point in doing anything, and you can stop playing mind games, okay?”

“You could describe me,” he said. “I guess I’d have to kill you.”