ChapterEleven
Ipress my back against an oak tree, trying to ignore the aching in my bones.My knees are beginning to protest against my crouched position.My toes are starting to go numb from the damp ground that's leaking through the soles of my boots.I pull up my hood and wrap my jacket closer around me as the cop knocks on Ava's door.
I click my tongue.“Tsk, tsk.Disobeying already, my rebellious little bird?”
When Ava steps out onto the porch, she's a beautiful mess.Her eyes are swollen and pink.Her hair is tangled and tossed up into a messy bun.My chest swells with the knowledge that I've affected her so much.That her thoughts have been focused on me, as mine have been on her.
While I watch them talk, that prideful feeling evaporates into a haze of irritation.It boils and floats up my throat like hot steam.I can feel it ripping at my skin and bursting from my pores.
My formerly petrified girl stands there at the door, pink-faced and ogling at the fucking cop.My fists ball at my sides, rage uncoiling inside me.Her eyes wander over him, hungrily.She looks like she's ready to tackle him.My foolish girl is ready to throw herself at the first man she thinks can protect her from me.He could never give her what she needs, what I know she needs.
The squeezing ache in my chest lessens as she steps away from him, looking out into the trees, looking toward me.
“That's right, baby,” I mumble, “look at me.Don't look at him.”
That crushing feeling around my heart comes back with a vengeance when he stands beside her, close enough to touch her.Pretty tears trail down her cheeks as she talks, reflecting the dimming sunlight.
His hand snakes up behind her, his dirty fingers rubbing circles on her back.I grit my teeth so hard I can hear them scraping together.They vibrate in my mouth, shooting tendrils of pain toward my temples.To force down the ball of anger that's lodged in my throat, I swallow hard.The longer that motherfucker touches her, the more it chokes me.
Fighting the urge to shoot him where he stands, I raise my clenched fist to my mouth and bite down.When she lays her head on his shoulder, the taste of copper fills my mouth.The sight of her chocolate hair pressed against his arm seals his fate.The final nail in the coffin is him tilting her chin up with a finger to meet her gaze.No one gets to peer into her gaze butme.I pull my bleeding knuckles from my mouth as my fury softens into selfish resolve.
At the cop’s command, she goes inside the house and locks the doors.A clenching tightness strangles my stomach as her wide, puppy-dog eyes track him from the window.
“So obedient for the right master, aren't you?”I huff out through clenched teeth.“I'll teach you who you belong to.”
I spin on my heels, causing a flurry of mud to spit up from the ground, caking my jeans with speckles of wet dirt.Dark trees loom around me, forcing me to weave and bob my way back to my car.Graceless in my anger-fueled haste, branches whip at my body, depositing scratches on my hands and twigs in my hair.
* * *
Just after sunset, I pull into the nearly empty parking lot at Quick Stop Gas.My car crawls to a stop on the side of the building.I pull the brake, nestling myself between a grimy public bathroom and a line of air pumps.A broken flood light dangles from twisted wires above me, blanketing the area in darkness.
Parked not ten feet away, Deputy Dipshit is sitting in his car, stuffing his face with a greasy, fast food burger.My mouth curls into a disgusted scowl as I watch him shovel it into his mouth.A shower of crumbs falls onto his shirt, which he wipes away carelessly onto the floor of his car.The leather of the steering wheel whispers and crackles beneath my steel grip.
I shake my head and force out a long sigh.I reach into myself, into the depths of my mind.Envisioning a black lake where my emotions ripple against the surface.I push them back further and further until the water is still and calm.Only when my grip loosens and the rise and fall of my chest is steady, do I get out of the car.
I slump my shoulders forward slightly and pull my mouth into a wide smile before rapping my fist gently against his window.He looks up, eyes widened by surprise as the window rolls down.His eyes roam over me suspiciously.I raise my voice an octave, putting on my best local accent.
“Hi, Deputy…uh,” I glance at his nametag, “Becker.”I clasp my hands in front of me, twirling my fingers in mock shyness.“I’m real sorry to bother you, but I was hoping you could help me out.”
His face softens.He nods and cocks an eyebrow questioningly.
I point back to my car.“You see, my car’s got a flat and I don’t know if I can put on the spare on my own.”
His chest puffs up as he swings the door open.“Of course!I’m happy to help.Let’s get you situated and on your way.”
My smile widens as I walk back to my car with the deputy following closely behind.I pop the trunk and grab the tire iron, holding it against my leg.The deputy stands at my side, his face alight with that good, hometown boy charm.
He runs his palms down the front of his polyester pants and reaches toward the car.“Let’s get that spare out and get you going.”
Just as his hand makes contact with the handle above the spare tire well, the tire iron makes contact with his head.He groans and his eyes shudder closed as his limp torso flops over the trunk with a thud.
“Too fucking easy.”I chuckle, shoving his legs in behind him.I wipe the metal bar against my jeans before tossing it in beside his head and slamming the trunk.I shoot off a quick text to Ricky with the location of the cop car and its keys, which are conveniently still in the ignition.Ricky’s a mechanic, as well as the owner of a local chop shop.Our arrangement is simple: he doesn’t ask questions, and in return, he gets the cars and whatever profit he can make from them.
* * *
The moon is high when I pull my car into the familiar clearing near my graveyard.The scent of pine floats along the cool wind that whistles through the trees.A symphony of crickets welcome me back to my quiet place in the woods.Looking out into the vast forest, I find myself wondering if Ava would like it here.The view isn’t too different from the one outside of her windows.We could have a picnic over the graves of her would-be lovers.
When I pop open the trunk, Becker is still unconscious.I yank at his torso until he tumbles onto the ground, vibrating the dirt beneath him.With several layers of folded rope, I create a make-shift gag which I slip into his mouth and tie behind his head.Another rope binds his ankles, and a third binds his wrists.One final piece wraps around his stomach, it’s outstretched length giving me a line by which to drag his limp body.
