But if I can just stay away from the temptation of him, the way an alcoholic stays away from bars and liquor stores, maybe I'll think of him less. Maybe I'll forget.
On this morning, Carter seems in a rush to get out the door. He's got a lot to take care of this week before we leave. I turn on morning news and I can't escape Sam. His brother is right there on the screen: Sheriff Ridgefield announces his run for mayor of Sacramento.
They talk about how he's taking advantage of his recent success in my case and the Northern Woods Killer.
I snicker at the TV.
“What is it?” Carter asks as he puts on his watch.
“Oh just that the sheriff is running for mayor.”
“Why's that strange?”
“I don't know why. I just find it funny they consider me a success story. They didn't find me. He let me go. I don’t know how he saved face telling the world it was The Night Prowler who took me if it was this guy. Not to mention that means that Night Prowler guy is still out there. A convenient fact everyone seems to forget.”
“If?” Carter asks.
“I’m just saying, I don’t think the Sheriff comes out looking as sparkling as he thinks.”
“But they put the asshole who took you away for life, right?” he says, kissing me on the top of my head.
“Yeah.”
He glances over at the TV. “You don’t like that guy, do you?”
I shrug.
“You okay?” He's being thoughtful, but I can tell his mind is already out the door. Understandable.
“I'm fine.”
“Okay. I'll see you tonight.” It's actually comforting he takes my word for it.
Carter's gone within a minute and I start the shower to get ready for my day of avoidance. But now Sam's on the top of my mind, so that no matter where I go, he'll be there.
You'd think the shame would keep Andrew Hunter-Ridgefield from running for office. But no, this is exactly why he wanted this. It wasn't to protect Sam, it was so his own ambitions wouldn't be sidetracked. He stands up on the podium, with his little family and his expensive suit, and he claims that he cares about people. Well I have a box with 82 lives—homes that were broken into, people terrorized and violated—that prove otherwise. But I am just as guilty. I could go to the FBI. All the scenarios run through my mind when the phone rings. It's too early for Sam. Unless this is a new strategy since I'm gone all day now. Or maybe Carter is calling because he forgot something. I have to answer.
When I do, I know within seconds it's him.
“I have your box.” I pause for a response I know I won't hear.
“Your brother is the big winner in all this. Did you see on the news? He's running for mayor.”
Nothing.
“Is this ever going to stop? You don't want me, Sam. I wouldn't be here if you did.”
I hang up before I can say anything else stupid and I get ready as quickly as I can so I can go somewhere he can't reach me.
I spend my day in the library, flipping through pages that don't interest me. I'm restless today, full of secrets and emotions I can't let out. I have to do the opposite of what I feel urged to do. So I decide to stop by and surprise Carter for lunch. He's a TA and usually in the TA lounge between classes, so I drive over there but don't see him. Someone tells me he's in one of the lecture halls, wrapping up a class.
I find the hall; a door is propped open. I walk towards it and hear his voice conversing with another. She's emotional. I stop before they can see me and peek just over the corner. A strawberry blond with feathered hair and big glasses stands in front of him. She's bracing her books across her chest. That's all I can gather before I have to hide behind the doorway.
The acoustics of the lecture hall make it easy to gather most of the conversation, even from the top tier.
“I don't understand…you said this would be temporary. It's been almost two months, Carter.”
“You don't understand. She's been through a lot.”
“So that makes this okay? Just be honest with me. Do you love me?”
“Of course.”
“But not more than her.”
“Can you please understand the position I'm in? We were engaged before she was taken away. It's all very confusing.”
“Well, it is for me too. One day, I'm practically living in your place. You're telling me you love me and how you can finally see a future with someone else, and then the next you get a phone call and tell me I have to pack my things. That she's back and you have to make sure she's okay. That was all you were going to do. Make sure she was okay. But now she's living there, and you are going on vacations—” She stops to sob.
“I'm not the kind of person who leaves someone when they're down.”
“So what? It's your responsibility to take care of her forever? You keep saying she's not well, but she doesn't want to go to therapy. You say this is just something you have to do, but—I don't even have to ask if you are having sex. I can't keep waiting. Just let me go,” she begs.