River Girl by Charles Williams(10)

I ducked into an all-night cafe and went back to
the telephone. Looking up the number of the hotel, I
dialed and waited.
The fan didn’t work and it was stifling inside the
booth. “State Hotel.” It was a girl’s voice. The
operator was still on duty.
“A Mrs. Crawford, please. Is she registered? This
is United Airlines.”
“Just one moment, please.” She paused. “Yes, sir.
I’m ringing.”
“Thank you,” I said. I waited, feeling the tightness
growing inside my chest as I realized how near I was
to her at last. How long had it been since I had let
her out of the car in Colston?
“Hello.” It was Doris.
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I wanted to cry out, “Darling, this is Jack!” Instead
I asked smoothly, or as smoothly as I could, “Mrs.
Crawford? This is United Airlines, the reservation
desk.” Would she recognize my voice and not say
anything wrong? “We’re very sorry, but so far we’ve
been unable to confirm your reservation west of Salt
Lake. I think we’ll have it in another hour or two,
however. Shall we call you then, or wait till
morning?”
I heard a barely audible gasp and then she came
through beautifully. “Thank you. Tomorrow morning
will be all right. Just call me at Room Three-twelve
here at the hotel.”
“Thank you,” I said. I hung up.

River Girl by Charles Williams(9)

The water was warm. I lay in it, naked, alongside
the boat, with one hand on the gunwale, trying not
to think of anything except the motor. I can’t wait all
day, I thought. If I don’t do it now I’ll lose my nerve.
Shutting my mind to everything, to all thought, I
took a deep breath and dived. I seemed to go on for
a long time, pulling myself down with powerful
strokes of my hands, wanting to turn back but
forcing myself to go ahead. It must be twenty feet
deep instead of twelve, I thought wildly, and then I
felt the soft mud under my arm. I was against the
bottom. This was the terrible part of it now. Pulling
upward against the water with my hands to keep
myself flat against the mud, I groped around with
them, feeling for the motor. There was no use in
opening my eyes to try to see, for at this depth in the
discolored water there would be no light at all. I
River Girl — 155
swung my arms around wildly and felt nothing. My
lungs were beginning to hurt and I thought of the
boat above me, knowing I had to come up carefully
as I approached the surface or I might bang my head
into it. I couldn’t wait too long. Putting my feet
against the mud, I sprang upward, bringing my arms
up over my head to feel for the boat. I missed it and
came out of the water gasping for breath.
I can’t give up, I thought, my mind still focused
with that terrible intensity on just one thing—the
motor. I gulped a deep breath and dived again.
When I was against the bottom I started sweeping it
again with my arms, and then my left hand brushed
against something just at the ends of my fingers. I
turned toward it, feeling my skin draw up tightly
with revulsion. It was a shoe. Bringing my right hand
around, I groped with it, moving a little, and felt the
canvas coat. I was fighting desperately now to keep
from being sick here twelve feet under water and
drowning myself with the retching.

River Girl by Charles Williams(8)

“No,” I said. “All I see is a chump who got in over
his head and is trying to wiggle out.”
“Maybe you’re not looking from where I am.” She
smiled, and then went on, “But let me tell you what I
had in mind. Tonight when you told Buford what you
were going to do, you didn’t make any mention of
what was going to happen after you abandoned the
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boat there in the swamp. Have you thought about
that? You don’t mind my asking, do you?”
“No,” I said. “Not at all.”
“Good. You realize, of course, don’t you, that
you’re going to be afoot and that when you get out to
the highway you won’t be able to flag a ride because
whoever gives you a lift will remember you. And,
naturally, you can’t take your car. Also, even if you
walked to the next town, you wouldn’t dare get on a
bus there. They might remember you.”
“Yes,” I said. “I know that. It’s not very good, that
part of it, but it can’t be helped.”
Actually, I had an idea about it, but I didn’t see any
point in telling her. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust her,
but there just wasn’t any reason she had to know.
There was a railroad across on the far side of the
swamp, and at one place a water tank and siding
where freights went in the-hole for passenger trains.

River Girl by Charles Williams(7)

She thanked me again for the money
and got out. I saw her walk up the street toward the
station. What a life, I thought. Cat house behind, cat
house ahead. Then I snapped out of it. I was in a hell
of a spot to be feeling sorry for her.
River Girl — 122
I drove around and parked in front of the
courthouse and sat there for a minute, trying to
think. Cars lazily circled the square, boys out riding
with their girl friends; and something about it,
maybe the summer night or the hissing sound of
tires or the quick, musical laughter of a girl,
suddenly made me think of how it had been before I
went off to the Army all those years ago in 1942,
how it had been to be home from college in the
summer, out riding in the Judge’s automobile, a
Chevrolet somehow forever five years old. God, I
thought, that was a long time back.
I shook my head, trying to clear it, like a fighter
taking a beating. Get up there, I thought. Get up to
the office and see what you can find on Shevlin;
Buford can wait a little while. But what about this
other mess? It was going to blow wide open,
tomorrow or the next day. If I tried to disappear
now, wouldn’t everybody know it was a phony? And,
knowing it was a fake, they would do a lot of looking
into the place where I had disappeared, a place I
didn’t ever want anybody nosing around because
that was where Shevlin was. I’d be better off to stay
here and take the rap on the probable bribery
charge than to direct any attention toward Shevlin.
But, then, there was no use trying to kid myself that
Shevlin’s disappearance was going to continue
unnoticed forever. Somebody would miss him and
start looking into it. I shook my head again, and ran
a hand across my face. It was like being at the
bottom of a well.