“Vesper, why don't you come into my office?”
I hold the strap of my bag a little tighter to my side and follow him. I feel like they all know. They can all feel the evil permeating from the bag.
We've seen each other a few times since the first time, mostly so I can “help” by answering more questions. It’s weird walking through the station, sitting there, answering questions, knowing that the man in charge already has the answers and this is all for show.
“Coffee, water?”
“No thanks,” I say.
“Have a seat,” he gestures to the chair opposite his side of the desk.
I sit. It's always like this. Formal, procedural, the secret unspoken since we've made the agreement. But I'm here to break that wall.
“My secretary said you weren't home when she called. She left the message with your boyfriend. He said you were already on your way. That you had spoken to me, but I know that's not true.”
“She just spoke to Carter?” I ask, trying to make sense of the miscommunication.
“Yes.”
“Why did you call?” I ask.
“Why were you already on your way?” he retorts, leaning his elbows onto his desk.
I hug the bag closer to me. I don't think I should share what I have until I know what he wanted.
“I…um…I'm concerned. I just needed to talk to you. He's been calling me.”
Ridgefield sighs and rubs his forehead. “Fucking idiot.” I resent that he calls him that. “Have you told anyone?”
“No.”
“Not even your boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Good. Then it’s just between us and we keep it that way. You should change your number and make it private. Tell your boyfriend you’d feel safer that way and you’re sick of reporters.”
“I just thought you should know because of the investigation. It’s fine.”
He sits back into his chair and sucks his teeth. “You don't want to make him stop? Remind me what's going on here, Vesper. Why are you doing this? I'm glad, but I can't quite ever be at ease. I'm losing a lot of sleep thinking you'll change your mind.”
I wish I could articulate an answer. I can't even promise him I won't change my mind.
“Did you ever really know Sam?” I ask.
He lets out a huff. “At one point I would have said I did. Well, maybe not really knew him, but I understood a part of him. I can honestly say right now, I have no fucking idea who he is.”
I glance at a picture on his desk. His little family. So perfect. So normal.
I spot the young boy standing in front of the sheriff with an innocent smile adorning his cherubic face. “Wow, he looks just like Sam when he was little.”
Ridgefield's face tightens, like I've poked at a sore spot.
“Yeah, identical,” he laments. “Did you?”
“Did I what?” I ask.
“Ever really know him.”
“I think I did. It would be easier if I hadn't. It's hard to betray someone you know.”
He nods. “Or someone you thought you did.”
“So what did you want to tell me? Or did you just need reassurances?” I ask.
“Actually, I wanted to reassure you. This will all be over soon.”
“What do you mean?” I inquire, a knot of uneasiness bubbling in my stomach.
“Someone confessed to your kidnapping.”
“What?” I ask, in complete befuddlement.
He pulls a file and opens it, placing a picture in front of me. A dark-featured, middle-aged man stares back at me.
“The Northern Woods Killer,” he states, stabbing his finger onto the center of the decrepit man’s face.
“But it wasn't him. You know that.” As if the Sheriff needed to be told that.
“This will make it all go away. So that you don't have to worry about anything coming to haunt us.”
“I don't understand.”
“He's a serial rapist and killer. A trucker leaving vics and bodies all over the state. We have him in custody. He’s been linked to twenty-six bodies all over Northern California, and he's confessing to at least fifty.”
“Why would he? I don't understand.”
“He's agreed to give us information about additional crimes for a plea. Guys, they sometimes do that, they confess to a bunch of things. Sometimes for notoriety, sometimes to confuse us. But he has a small house that works for the scenario. He doesn’t have friends or family. It’s conceivable he could have had someone locked up and no one would have known. He told a good tale. He knew things only the kidnapper would know.”
“How?”
“There's ways when you're questioning…to plant seeds.”
“But he's innocent.”
“He's not innocent, Vesper. He killed over two dozen people. Innocent girls who never hurt anyone. The fucker signed a confession saying he took you. We can actually close this case. He'll be in jail until he dies anyway. So everyone can be satisfied this case was closed.”