“What are you doing here?” Sheriff Ridgefield asks as he looks back over his shoulder into his house. During my research, I was able to figure out where he lives, in his and Sam's childhood home. It's the nicest house on the block, with a bright green lawn, and rose bushes.
“I need to talk to you,” I respond without shame or hesitation.
The high-pitched scream of a giggling child carries out the front door. Ridgefield looks back again, rolls his eyes and sighs. “Fine.” He leans back and shouts to his wife that someone is here from work and he'll be back in a few minutes.
“You shouldn't be here. Is this about money?” It's insulting, that he'd think I'd be here for something so trivial.
“No.”
“Then what?”
“I need to know where Sam is.”
He barks a mocking laugh. “What? Why?”
“I have my reasons.”
“We are so close to being done with this. Why would you want to go to him?” A woman walks by with her poodle and waves at us, there's a curious look in her eyes. He smiles tightly and waves back. He leans in and hisses “Are you insane?”
“You are no one to judge me.”
He shakes his head. “I may have done something awful, but I didn't ask to be caught up in it. And you had your chance. You definitely didn't lie to protect me. You didn't even know me. You protected him or yourself, or I don't know who.”
“I didn't come here to discuss this. I just want to know where he is. At least point me in the right direction.”
“I don't know. He's dead to me.”
“So you expect me to believe a cop, who banished his dangerous brother out of town, isn't keeping some sort of tabs on him? I may not be well, but I'm not stupid, Sheriff.”
“I'm not going to lead you back to him.”
We stop at the corner of the block as we reach this impasse.
“What was your plan for me?” I ask him.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, Sam told me you said he should get out of town. That we should. But he left me. I know he didn't want to. It doesn't add up.”
“So that's what you want to find out? Why he left you? Christ, Vesper, let it go.”
I shake my head at his callous trivialization of my ordeal, but I don’t let it distract me. “You were going to let him take me. That's what he said. That you would have let us disappear. But then he left me. It doesn't make sense.”
“I…uh…what are you getting at, Ms. Rivers?” he asks, frustrated.
“I think I know why. Because it was the only way he could save me. You let him go. So that part was true. But there's no way you'd let him take me. My face was everywhere. I was a liability. If your brother was spotted with me, that would be too risky. I know he took me out into the woods to kill me. I could feel him agonizing over it. I could feel the barrel of the gun against my head.”
He can't even look at me now. It's all over his face. The guilt. I took a gamble, making the accusation. It was a hunch. I could have been wrong, but he doesn't have to say a word to convince me I'm right—that for all of Sam's wickedness, it was his cop brother who wanted me dead and it was Sam who risked everything so that I could live.
Sam knew the one way to keep me safe was to bring me out of the shadows and into the light. Once I was in the park ranger's office, I was too high profile to disappear again. Sam knew his own life might be destroyed in the process.
He let me go anyway.
“You need to go. I'm not leading you to him. You may think I'm the bad guy here, but this is to keep you safe.”
The old Vesper would have taken the first no. She would have not wanted to inconvenience or pressure someone. She would have seen the look on Sheriff's face and somehow felt guilty for confronting him with the truth. But now, I won't leave here until I have what I want. I didn't come here with a request. This is a demand.
“Andrew, right? Can I call you that?”
“Yeah,” he confirms skeptically.
“I don't have anything left. People like me don't come back home. We die. Or people think we have. But we're not meant to come back home. And I am here, and I'm not supposed to be here.”
“You just need to give it time.”
“I feel suffocated by all this freedom. All these choices. I don't feel safe without him.”
“He's the one that made you feel that way.”
“He is. And there's only two ways I can feel safe from him. One is to be back where I was, and the other—” I stop myself from telling an officer about murder. He's not my friend. I have to remember that.
“What are you trying to tell me, Vesper?” He’s becoming agitated.