It’s going to have to be option two: kill Steven in the woods, bury him deep in the forest, and then report that he went out hunting and never returned. It’s supposed to snow on Sunday night. I’ll wait until the storm starts before I drive down to the general store to call authorities for help.
Hunters and hikers go missing all the time. Wherever I bury him, I’ll tell them he set off from the cabin in the opposite direction. They’ll search far and wide in the wrong part of the forest, and they’ll find nothing. It will snow for half the week. He’ll be impossible to track. Days will go by. Then weeks. I’ll slowly fade out of the Hepsworth family’s life. The end.
Satisfied, I head back to the cabin to settle onto the couch with the new book I brought. It’s a sci-fi adventure packed with romance and war and intrigue. I love it.
When I look up again, fading sunlight is stretching across the plank floor from the back window, and I realize he’s been out in the woods a long time. At least four hours.
Maybe he’ll take care of this problem for me and never return, but I feel a sharp slash of irritation at the thought. I want to be the one to make him pay. I want to go to bed at night with the knowledge that I avenged Meg. That thought will keep me as warm and happy as my cat does.
I step outside and scan the woods around me. Gnats dance in shafts of sunlight. Birds scream at each other. There’s a soft cooing somewhere nearby that sounds strangely like pigeons. But there’s no Steven.
After a peek into the outhouse, I decide I’m better off going in the bushes. Amazing to me that men can see where they’re aiming and what they’re aiming with and they still can’t hit the mark. The wood in there is soaked with old urine.
I walk into the trees and crouch. While I’m peeing, I catch movement from the corner of my eye. Steven has emerged from the other side of the woods and is walking toward the cabin. He can’t see me in the deepening shadows, and I watch as he passes only twenty feet away. I smile at his stupid vulnerability and feel a jolt of near-sexual pleasure as I finish urinating.
After wiping with a tissue from my pocket, I stand up, but I don’t head for the cabin. Instead I watch Steven go inside. I hear him talking to me as if I’m there. His eyes haven’t adjusted to the change in light yet. I feel like I’m invisible. Powerful. Like he’s a rat being run through a maze by a force he can’t fathom.
A few seconds later he steps outside, blinking. He frowns, his head turning left and right and left again. He’s lost me. Lost another one. Is he worried he’ll find me hanging in the woods nearby?
“Jane?” He moves slowly down the steps as if he’s not sure where he is. “Jane!”
I wish I had the gun. I can’t shoot him here, but I could watch him through the scope, watch his pulse flutter in his throat. I could aim it at that quick heartbeat and pretend to pull the trigger.
He turns and hurries toward the outhouse. “Jane?” When he opens the door, nothing greets him but the smell of old piss.
Steven backs away and then turns in a slow circle, his gaze passing right over me. His furrowed brow suggests anger, but his mouth hangs open in confusion. When he finds himself facing the truck, he marches over and cups his hands to his eyes to look inside. I’m not there.
“Jane?” he calls again, taking a few steps toward the dirt road. He slows, then stops, at a complete loss.
Grinning at this game, I pick up a rock from the forest floor and throw it as hard as I can toward the far side of the clearing. He spins and stares toward the sharp crack of the rock hitting a tree. The stone rustles through the underbrush as it falls to the ground. Steven stares into the woods, but he doesn’t move forward.
If I can get him to go out searching for me, I could kill him tonight. He left his rifle in the cabin, and I have my knife in my pocket. Sure, he’s bigger than I am, but you never expect your sweet new girlfriend to step out of the woods and stab you in the throat.
But he’s frozen. Afraid. Steven doesn’t like this game as much as I do.
He stares into the woods for a long time before taking two backward steps toward the cabin. If he does plan to go out looking for me—and that’s a big if—he wants to grab his gun first.
I throw another rock, and he cranes his head toward the sound. “Jane?”
I throw one more rock, aimed closer to one of the narrow trail openings in the trees. “Jane!” he calls with a little more irritation and a little less fear. “Where are you?” With only one sparing glance toward the cabin, he takes off for the trail.
I slip out of the trees and into the clearing. I draw the knife from my coat pocket and free the blade.
Moving slowly, I place my feet with care, avoiding twigs and leaves, setting my boots only on areas of bare dirt. I need to give him time to put a little distance between himself and the cabin.
I’ve pictured myself slitting his throat from behind, but that would spray blood everywhere, and we can’t have that. Plus he’s taller than I am. I wouldn’t have the right leverage. Oh, well. I’ll sneak up behind him and bury a quiet blade between the ribs. Almost as satisfying.
I’m halfway across the clearing and straining my ears for noise on the trail ahead. I hear a distant brushing sound; then he calls my name again. He’s facing away from me, so I can’t tell how far into the trees he is. I lean down and pick up another rock. I need to lead him deeper.
Concerned that I’ll hit him with it, I whip the rock a little to the left.
“Jane?” I hear again. His stupid voice grates on my ears.
Gripping my knife more tightly, I move toward the tree line. The clearing is littered with leaves and sticks here. I watch my feet with each step. One loud snap and he’ll hurry back to me.
The wind picks up suddenly and I use the chance to take five quick steps across the brittle leaves. I’m almost to the trees and the trail. The wind will cover my noise. I can rush up behind him and—
He’s suddenly in the opening right in front of me. “Jane?”
I freeze.
His eyes widen as I stare at him. I don’t know what I look like, but I’m definitely not wearing the sweet, submissive expression of his girlfriend. I think of my cat. The tiger at the zoo. Those cool, cruel eyes.
Then his gaze drops to the knife in my hand.
I could just jump forward and stab him before his surprise wears off. Thrust the knife right into his throat. I can almost feel it sinking in. But we’re way too close to the cabin. I can’t risk it. And his shocked expression is crumpling into suspicion.
I fix the mask back to my face and open my mouth in a frightened gasp. “Oh my God!”
“Jane . . . what are you doing?” His deep animal brain has finally registered the danger I present. He eyes the shiny blade warily. I imagine goose bumps spreading over his skin.
“I heard something!” I yelp. “I got scared!” I fling the knife aside and rush toward him.
He catches me automatically, though I notice his hands grip my arms and don’t reach around to embrace me. He’s not a stupid man. But I have an advantage. He’d never believe a woman can hold the upper hand. He’s in charge here; I just need to remind him of that.
“I was scared,” I whimper.
“Where were you?” he asks.
“What?”
“The cabin was empty. Where did you go?”
I make my voice quake and wobble. “I just went out for a quick walk.”
“A walk?” I feel his muscles give a little, relaxing. His hands slide down my arms. “Christ, Jane, there are bears up here.”
“I took a knife.”
“A knife?” He finally sets me back and his jaw drops as he stares at me. “So you thought I was a bear and you were looking for me with a knife?” The scornful words echo against tree trunks. He’s back in full form.
“Well, I didn’t know it was a bear. I was just out for a walk and—”
“You don’t have a gun and you don’t know your way around here but you decided to go for a walk.”
“I didn’t go far. You were gone so long and I got bored.”
He shakes his head in disgust. “Jesus, you’re an idiot.”
“You just went into the woods without a gun too.”
“Yeah, and I was coming back to get it so I could find you!”