John Locke - Wish List

“I’m not here to hurt you,” I said, “I just want some information. Do you understand?”

She did her best to nod.

“That said, if you make a sound louder than a whisper, I’ll kill you. Do you believe me?”

Again, she tried to nod.

“Good. I’d hate to harm you in any way, since I’m a huge fan. I’m only here to ask you about a company called Wish List, a guy who works with them named Rudy, and a guy with whom you recently had sex, named Buddy Pancake.”

The light from the hallway illuminated her face. She appeared gaunt, and ill.

“Relax, Jinny. All I want is information, okay?”

Her green eyes were big as saucers, and full of fear. She mouthed the words, “Please. Don’t hurt me.”

I said. “Are you sick? I have a thing about germs.”

She shook her head no.

“Anorexic?”

She shook her head again.

“I saw you last week on the Academy Awards. Nice dress.”

She nodded.

“Guess the TV really does add ten pounds, huh?”

Her body was trembling. A couple of tears spilled from her eyes.

I said, “I’m going to remove my hand. For the record, I’m okay if you want to scream. But if you do, I’ll have to kill the guards. I’m only asking you to whisper in order to protect them. Other than being inept, they haven’t done anything wrong, and don’t deserve to die. But it’s your call.”

I released my hold on her neck, and helped her sit on her bed.

“Can I switch on the light?” she said.

“I’d like that.”

She turned the knob on her bedside lamp and looked at me. She rubbed her neck.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Let’s do it this way,” I said. “Why did you have sex with Buddy Pancake?”

Chapter 3

Jinny Kidwell gave me some bullshit story about paying back into the system that helped her become a star, but I wasn’t buying. I covered her mouth again with my left hand, produced a switchblade in my right, and told her I was serious about getting some answers.

Jinny was a beautiful, pampered star, and I figured getting her to talk would be as easy as getting the President to do a photo op.

But I was wrong.

When I removed my hand from her mouth, she said, “It’s okay if you want to kill me.”

“I don’t want to kill you. I just want to know why you fucked Buddy Pancake.”

“You’ll have to be content with the answer I gave you.”

I frowned. This was new territory for me. Usually, I make a threat and people shit all over themselves. There could only be one explanation.

“You don’t believe I’ll kill you,” I said.

“I do believe it.”

“The answer you gave me about paying back into the system was a lie.”

“Yes.”

“But you’re refusing to tell me the truth?”

“Yes. I’m refusing to.”

“Why?”

“I—I can’t say.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Won’t.”

“Then I’ll have to kill you.” I moved the knife to the edge of her throat.

She started to cry. “Wait,” she said.

I smiled.

But instead of telling me the truth, what she said was, “Before you kill me, can I call my husband and tell him I love him?”

Chapter 4

I didn’t kill Jinny Kidwell at that time.

Instead, I looked into those endless eyes and said, “I’m obviously missing something. Something so important to you it’s worth dying to cover up.”

We sat on the bed a minute, looking at each other. Outside the trailer, maybe a mile down river, I heard a muffled whistle, as a barge prepared to navigate the next section of river.

“Maybe the best question isn’t why you slept with Buddy Pancake,” I said. “That was obviously a payback.”

Jinny looked at her hands in her lap and said nothing.

“I should have asked about the wishes you made.”

She said, “There were three silly ones, and the one I’m willing to die for.”

“And this huge wish required the payment of sleeping with Buddy Pancake?”

“And giving him a million dollars in cash.”

“What else have you had to do?”

“Tell my husband what I’ve done.”

“And?”

“And I had to get him to make four wishes of his own on the website.”

“And he did?”

She shrugged. “He loves me.”

“So you have two more payments to make?”

“That’s what they tell me.”

“Rudy?”

“And the others.”

“You know their names?”

“No.”

“Scary guys?”

Her face took on a thoughtful expression. “Not as scary as you. No offense.”

If Jinny wasn’t afraid of what they might do to her, she must be afraid of what they might not do. Like grant her wish. I took a minute to ponder what Buddy had told me about the wishes and paybacks. “How many of your wishes have come true?”

“Three.”

I nodded. “The little ones.”

“So far.”

“And you’re waiting on the big one.”

She nodded.

“And the big one is so important that if it doesn’t come true, something will happen that is worse to you than dying tonight.”

She didn’t reply.

“You were willing to have sex with Buddy Pancake and give him a million dollars. What else would you be willing to do to get your wish?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, and two little puddles of tears raced each other down her cheeks.

I said, “Are you aware they made Buddy Pancake kill someone tonight with his bare hands?”

She gave me a sudden look of horror. Then her facial muscles went slack and she stared at her hands again. I watched her go through these emotions with great curiosity.

“You’re willing to sleep with a complete stranger, pay a million dollars, and even let people die in order to get this wish?”

She didn’t look up, didn’t speak, but her shoulders moved slightly, and I could tell she was crying softly.

“And just so we’re clear, you’re willing to let me kill you rather than tell me what you wished for.”

She finally looked up at me. Adding in the fact that Jinny Kidwell is damned good at what she does for a living, I could tell she wasn’t acting. She was in anguish, and her face ran the whole gamut of looks. She was frightened, horrified, humiliated, defeated…and somehow, hopeful.

“Must be one hell of a wish,” I said.

Chapter 5

“Please, Mr. Creed. I have a wife and kids at home.”

It was 1:30 a.m.

At seventy-five miles per hour with no stops along the way, Hannibal to Louisville is a five hour drive. Harrison Ford was too jittery to handle the wheel, so I fastened him to the front passenger headrest with sealing tape to help him stay put. That was two hours earlier, and he hadn’t stopped blubbering since.

“You’re an annoying person,” I said. “Anyone ever tell you that?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be.”

“I’d hoped you’d find this fun. I’d hoped you’d want to be my regular driver whenever I’m in the area. But you don’t seem to have the temperament for it.”

“I don’t. I just want to go home.”

“So you’ve said. A hundred times.”

“Can you just give me a rough guess as to when that might happen? If you can tell me that, I’ll feel a lot more comfortable.”

I looked at him and shook my head. Our relationship wasn’t working out. “Look, Harrison,” I said. “You’ll be back with your family tomorrow afternoon, Tuesday at the latest, dead or alive.”

That made him even more nervous, so I added, “You have my word on that.”

“Dead or alive?”

“Your choice. How you behave today makes a big difference.”

“If I don’t call my wife, she’s going to be worried. If I don’t come home, she might call the police.”