No answer. She's probably still at the station. I headed to my car and back onto the road. My truck lights illuminated a sign half-covered with shrubs that said: L.A.15 miles.
And that's how I ended up in L.A. I laid low for a couple of weeks, just to make sure this wasn't all some elaborate ruse. But I couldn't resist hearing her voice. Her practically begging me to save her from the mundanity of her ordinary new life. She understands now, she wasn't a prisoner with me, she's a prisoner out there, shackled by the expectations and relationships she thought she needed. I can't go back and take her again. That's not how this works. I'm not a knight in shining armor. I am Hades. I split the earth open and suck her under. I give her my seed, which she accepts despite her protests. Now I am her home. She has been released back into the world, but she will realize she inevitably must return to me. She can only survive this by inhabiting two worlds.
After a few weeks I head back north (fuck Scoot) to clean out the fucking farm of anything untoward before hiring a crew to empty it out, and I come back to my mother's room, looking like a fucking tornado ran through. Where that box once was, the copy of Green Eggs and Ham I gave Vesper.
She has the box. It's full of objects, but that thing lives and breathes and I'm not sure she can handle having something that powerful in her possession. She'll find many things in there, but there's one thing she won't find-any trace of her. As I stare at the empty hole, I reach into my pocket and pull out the folded photo. It's worn in that spot, the fold line splitting her right down the middle. I run my hands along the groove, down to her smile, and her neck. The image of her necklace is nearly eaten up by the crease. Sometimes I wished I had kept it, so I would still have a piece of her, something other than memories that fade over time like this beat up image.
“So I'm thinking we should go someplace. Take a long weekend,” Carter suggests as he passes me a wet dish to dry.
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah. Maybe we go…” His eyes widen up. “Why don't we go to Tahoe? You've always loved it there.”
I did. But now, the trees, the water, memories of losing my necklace, it'll all bring me back to him. I would have loved this idea before Sam.
“Sure.” I try to paint over the hesitation with a broken smile. But Carter senses it.
“We don't have to go there. We could go anywhere.”
“No. No. That's a good idea.” I don't want to complicate things. I've changed so much and I don't want to add to the list. I don't want to have to explain why suddenly my favorite place doesn't make me squeal with enthusiasm.
I can sense Carter doesn't believe me.
“Actually, I'm really excited,” I say, doing a better job with the fake smile. “I think the fresh air and openness will be perfect. Do you want me to make the plans?”
Carter's eyes brighten. “Sure. Yeah, it's all yours. I'd love that.”
I'm trying. I'm trying so hard. To accept that this is the life I am supposed to want. Carter is the man I am supposed to desire. I'm trying to rewire myself. But it's hard when a box full of victims sits at the bottom of your underwear drawer.
I don't know what to do with it. Right now, I use it to remind myself that this is where I am supposed to be. That for all of the gentle moments Sam shared with me, that box is who he really is.
But like Sam, the weight of the box sits on my soul, and always in the back of my mind, knowing it's there. It steals the moments I have in the present. I have to do something about it. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake, covering for him. I don't think I can live a normal life unless I let him go completely. I can't keep him and this life. I can only have one. Maybe it's time to let the cops have him.
Carter decides to step out for some errands, leaving me alone in the house for a while. Like I always do, I go to the drawer and open the box, going through its contents. There are so many pieces in here. So many lives.
I think I have to do it. I have to call the sheriff and tell him we can't go on like this. I don't want to blindside him. I glance at the clock. He should be in this early on a Friday. I stuff the box into my bag and leave Carter a note.
Sheriff Ridgefield wanted me to come in for some questioning AGAIN. I'll be back ASAP.
The station is only a few minutes away. He's standing right by the front desk, intently talking to a man in a brown suit, who I know is from the DA's office.
I stand barely in his field of vision, not wanting to intrude, but wanting to be noticed. It only takes a few seconds before he spots me. He places his hand on the man's shoulder, gives him a nod in my direction. They shake and he makes his way toward me.
He's handsome, but it's a different type of handsome. He's more clean-cut and fatherly in his demeanor. He carries a lot more weight in his step. He's not that much older than Sam, but he looks far more mature. Sam looks like he'll look young forever, even with the rough scars and the stubble. Maybe it's the job. Maybe it's having a conscience.