Cody looks across at her. ‘Is that what men do? I don’t think I ever did that.’
‘Yeah, you did.’
‘When? When did I do that?’
He gets no answer from Webley, who just sits there wearing a knowing smile.
‘I never did that,’ he says. And then he adds, ‘You’re right about one thing, though. We’re definitely clutching at straws. How is it possible for Oliver Selby to kill two people and then completely disappear after each one? He’s got to be hiding somewhere, and someone must have seen him.’
25
Love Hurts
– Roy Orbison
The music is driving him crazy. He’s not so hard-hearted that he can’t appreciate a good love song every now and again but not when he is constantly bombarded like this. He would give anything right now for something different. A good rock song, something to get the feet tapping. Or even something classical.
Or nothing. Silence. He would love that. This music is loud and it is unceasing. The same tracks again and again. His ears and his brain crave some peace and quiet. Just a few minutes of rest.
He wonders if it’s meant as a form of torture. Is Franklin playing some kind of weird mind game with him? And if it is a game, then what are the rules? Is there something he can say or do to win the prize of getting out of here?
Or is it a lot simpler than that? Is it more practical? Are there things that Franklin doesn’t want him to hear?
He has strained to tune in to his environment during the precious silences between tracks and the quiet parts of the songs. Sometimes he thinks he can hear noises, but he’s never quite sure. He certainly can’t identify them.
The only thing he can hear right now is Roy Orbison. A song called Love Hurts. Very apt, he thinks. Being too much in love with Megan is what got him into this mess. And he’s definitely hurting. His spine, his ribs, his limbs – they all ache through lack of movement. The ropes around his wrists and ankles are cutting deep into his flesh and restricting blood flow.
He wonders if he’ll die here.
Wonders if that’s ultimately what Franklin has in mind for him.
Franklin says not. Every time he comes into the room, he says his only aim is to fix a relationship that’s gone a bit wrong.
Parker knows that’s an unachievable objective. But he worries about what will happen when Franklin comes to the same realisation. He doesn’t seem the type to accept his mistake and say, ‘Sorry about that. Off you trot.’ It seems more likely that he will—
Parker doesn’t want to think about that.
But he has an additional worry.
What if something happens to Franklin? He gets hit by a bus, perhaps. Or he just buggers off. Or he gets caught by the police but refuses to talk. What then?
Well, what happens then is that Parker will be alone here, and nobody will know. He won’t be able to escape or cry out for help, he will have no food or water, and he will gradually waste away in a pool of his own piss and shit. Compared to that ending, an instantaneous death seems much more preferable.
But Parker doesn’t want to think about that either.
The problem is that his mind has other ideas. His mind is running the gamut of doom-laden outcomes. It doesn’t like to look on the bright side, to seek the reassurance that everything will be all right in the end. In a situation like this, it prefers to preoccupy itself with scenarios involving pain, suffering and eventual oblivion.
He wishes he could say sorry to Megan.
Wishes he could beg her to forgive him.
But then he realises that what he really wants to do is turn back time. Take it back to the point at which he chose to become a jealous idiot instead of an understanding partner. Then none of this would have happened. He and Megan would still be a loving engaged couple, not even figuring on Franklin’s failed relationship radar.
What’s that about, anyway? Why is Franklin so concerned with the love lives of other people? And why does he think his deranged actions can possibly help in such situations?
Because he’s insane, is the answer.
Normal people don’t act like this. They don’t drug people and kidnap them and tie them to a bed and slice all their clothes off and cut off all their hair and…
What?
What next?
Parker doesn’t want to think about that.
And then suddenly Franklin is standing next to the bed again. Looking down at him. Parker hadn’t heard him enter the room. He can’t hear anything beyond these damn earphones.
Franklin tears away the tape, removes the gag, takes away the music. The silence is a blessing.
‘You look like a naked mole-rat,’ says Franklin. ‘I saw them on one of those David Attenborough nature programmes. They have no hair on their bodies. Just pale wrinkly skin like yours.’
Parker doesn’t think he’s particularly wrinkly or pale, but he’s not about to get into an argument about it.
‘Ugly little things,’ Franklin continues. ‘You couldn’t love a creature like that. Dogs and cats, yes, I think I can understand how people can love them. Do you have any pets?’
‘No.’
‘No. But I think you can understand it too, right? And people genuinely do love them. Lots of people love them even more than other humans. The mistake they make, of course, is in believing that their pets love them back. They think that because Fido follows them around everywhere and rolls over and brings them a ball to play with, that’s love. But it isn’t. Fido just wants his next treat. It’s learnt behaviour, that’s all.’
