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INT. DINER BATHROOM—NIGHT
Charlie shudders back to the present at the sound of her name. It’s Marge, who punctuates it with a rap on the door.
“Everything still okay in there?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” Charlie says. “Just freshening up.”
She checks her reflection in the mirror. She’s still the pale, fragile wraith she was when she walked in. All the tough personas she wore in the movie in her mind have peeled off like snakeskin. The only similarity between that Charlie and the one she sees before her now is the understanding that she can’t let Josh leave.
Not alone.
She’s not sure if she actually thought that or if it was part of the mental movie. She assumes it doesn’t really matter, seeing how it came from her brain either way. A realization is still a realization, even if its delivery is unorthodox.
And the realization consuming Charlie is that Josh needs to be stopped. And she’s the one who must do it. She can’t rely on the hopeful notion that Robbie called the police and that any second now a cop will show up and arrest Josh.
Nor can she enlist kindhearted Marge for help. The waitress might be quick with a cup of scalding-hot tea, but that means nothing when Josh has a knife within reach.
Earlier, Charlie had toyed with the idea that fate is what led her into Josh’s car. She assumed it was punishment for how she’d treated Maddy. But now Charlie suspects that if fate did have a hand in creating the situation, it’s for an entirely different purpose.
Not punishment.
Redemption.
Right now, Charlie has a chance to clear her conscience. The guilt that’s consumed her for two months could be gone in an instant. Her slate thoroughly wiped clean. All she needs to do is make sure Josh doesn’t ride off alone.
She owes it to herself.
And to Maddy.
And to Maddy’s family. And to the other women Josh has killed. And to those he might kill in the future if she lets him get away.
But she’s not going to let that happen.
She’s going to leave this bathroom, then the diner, and get back into the car with Josh.
It’s not smart. It’s not careful. It’s probably not even brave. Right now, it doesn’t really matter. It’s what Charlie feels she must do. And at this point, she has nothing left to lose.
She takes one last look in the mirror, hoping to see that her eyes have hardened just like they did in the movie in her mind. On the contrary, they’re moist and red at the edges. No hardness there. Her whole body, in fact, feels soft and vulnerable. But that doesn’t keep Charlie from flinging open the bathroom door and stepping back out into the main part of the diner.
Josh is still at the table. He leans over his coffee cup, staring into it, waiting for her return as the jukebox plays the last notes of a Rolling Stones song.
“Sympathy for the Devil.”
Ironic, seeing how a devil currently occupies the corner booth. And he’s anything but sympathetic.
Charlie pauses at the jukebox and flips through the selections. Classic rock, mostly, but a few current songs by Bryan Adams, Mariah Carey, and, to Josh at least, the twin scourges of Amy Grant and Paula Abdul. Charlie considers playing the two of them back to back, just to irritate him. A different idea forms when she sees another song. One she absolutely has to play.
She drops one of the quarters Josh gave her for the pay phone into the jukebox and enters the record number. A second later, music fills the diner.
A guitar riff she’s heard twice before that night.
“Come as You Are.”
Josh lifts his head when he hears it. Slowly. Like a movie villain who knows he’s just been found out. Raymond Burr inRear Windowwhen he realizes he’s caught in Jimmy Stewart’s telephoto lens.
He turns his head a little bit, listening, making sure his ears aren’t deceiving him.
“Great song, isn’t it?” Charlie says as she slides back into the booth. “Do you want to wait until it’s over? Or should we leave now?”