Take Me With You(106)

“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.

“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.”