The cop's face didn't change. He didn't speak. He stared at Roger, and Roger fought to stand still, even though every inch of his body became itchy all at once.
Finally, the cop nodded. "You have a license to hunt."
"Yes, sir."
"If you see that man I told you about or his truck, you call us. Okay?"
"Yes, sir. Is he wanted? Is he dangerous?"
Sometimes Roger surprised himself with his ability to lie. He almost smiled but didn't.
"He's not dangerous," the cop said. "We're just looking for him."
Roger nodded. "If I see him, I'll call."
"Thanks." The cop gave Roger another long look. He seemed to be satisfied with what he saw because he drove away.
When he was out of sight, Roger felt like someone had lifted a ton of bricks off his chest. He did smile then, and he started walking toward home.
His smile quickly faded.
The cop. They were already looking for him.
"Shit," he said. "Goddamn."
The girl had to go.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Roger trudged upstairs as soon as he returned home. He was tired and sweaty, despite the cool fall temperatures, and his legs felt like lead posts. He wanted to lie down, to take a nap and just forget about everything. The cops, the girl, the clearing. But he knew he couldn't. He knew if he let his guard down, if he stopped or slowed, he'd wind up in trouble. He forced himself to keep going.
When he entered the bedroom, he found the girl unmoved and unchanged. She was still tied to the bed, still quiet. She grunted a little when he came in, and there were tears on her face, which made Roger feel bad. He felt sorry for her too. She didn't understand that she was part of something bigger as well, that she had been chosen by the clearing to come and be his wife. And now she had to go back to the clearing.
Roger walked to the far side of the bed, the side where the blood and brains of the cop still decorated the wall. He planned to take care of that later, after he had taken care of the girl. He had some white paint in the garage. And bleach. He thought about making the girl clean it up but decided against it. She was too upset, and it seemed cruel. He'd have to get used to doing the cleaning now anyway.
Roger stood over her, and the girl's eyes widened. She'd just seen a man murdered before her eyes, a murder committed by Roger, and now Roger stood over her like a looming tower. He looked at her feet and the cuts there. They had stopped bleeding. He felt relieved about that, then wondered why he cared. If the girl was going away, what did it matter if she bled or not?
His eyes moved up her body. He saw a wet stain in her middle. She had had to go to the bathroom and when he didn't take her, she'd been forced to pee herself. Roger looked away. It made him sad to see her look so pathetic. He started untying the ropes.
While he untied, the girl came to life. She started to squirm and grunt. He started to yell at her but stopped himself. Let her do it, he thought. Who cares?
He untied the rope that bound her to the bed frame but left her hands tied together. He did the same with her feet. She could move off the bed but couldn't move her hands or feet freely. She lay still on the bed, looking up at Roger, waiting.
"We're going somewhere," he said.
She grunted, but he knew what she meant. Where?
He couldn't take the tape off her mouth. She'd make too much noise. She'd scream and pitch a fit. He used to think no one could hear her out there, but maybe that wasn't so. Maybe the cops were all around, waiting. Still, he wanted to leave the tape on for a different reason. He couldn't bear to hear her screams or pleas or cries.
He picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder. Her weight felt like a child's after carrying the cop earlier in the day.
"We're going to the clearing," he said.
The girl kicked a little while they went down the stairs, but when Roger picked up the shovel, she screamed and kicked enough that she almost knocked Roger down. Roger felt the anger grow inside of him, a hot pressure that burned against the inside of his rib cage, but he didn't do anything about it. He didn't want to hit the girl or yell at her. He tightened his grip on both her and the shovel and started into the woods.
*