I show Travis around the commune, telling him all kinds of stories about growing up here. Even though he’s tired, and I’m sure this is well out of his comfort zone, he listens with a smile on his face. He hardly ever lets go of my hand the entire time.
As we’re walking, Steve sees me again and waves us over.
“Okay, this is Steve. He and I used to date.”
Travis clenches his jaw as Steve introduces himself to us.
“Sage, you’ve got to come by the cabin while you’re still here. You and I really need to catch up,” Steve urges, completely disregarding the fact that I’m holding another man’s hand in front of him.
“I don’t know if we’ll be here that long,” Travis says as he pulls me closer to him.
Steve looks us up and down and nods, seemingly understanding what’s happening. “Well, the offer always stands for you, Sage.” He bounds off after a few moments, and I turn to Travis with an awkward laugh.
“Any chance he could be put on the list?” he asks, and I shake my head.
“He might be a douchebag, but that’s hardly criminal.” I laugh, standing on my tiptoes to kiss him again. Travis doesn’t smile, and I quickly realize he wasn’t joking, but that’s something we’re going to work on.
Steve resurfaces later near the fire with what looks like a homemade pan flute and starts playing a tragically off-key rendition of somethingthat might be “Careless Whisper.” Travis narrows his eyes and mutters, “He’s definitely top five on the list.”
We walk around for the rest of the day, and when the sun begins to set, we head to the beach, where I film the beginning of the offering ceremony as the large wicker effigy is lit on fire. Travis wraps his arms around me and holds me close as we watch it burn together.
It isn’t the first time the two of us have watched flames devour something, and I know it’s not going to be the last. But right now we can stand together and watch this, knowing everything that’s happened between us, and look forward to the future.
Epilogue
Travis
One Year Later
Martin Elliott III has just checked into his hotel room and is currently preparing for a meeting. I watch him from the driver’s seat of my car and study his every move. He was on Sage’s list.
After she came back to Lake Lure with me, I got her a desktop computer and fully set it up so all her searches would be secure. If she was going to be involved in my process, I had to make sure we were doing everything the right way. I taught her how I operate, from the first step all the way to disposing of the body.
This is the first kill I’m letting Sage take the lead on. Over the past year we’ve targeted and killed five predators together. Martin is one that Sage wanted to do the heavy lifting on. She even did a practice run in the mirror, rehearsing her fake twelve-year-old voice so much that I caught her singing “Let It Go” like a Disney Channel dropout. When I walked in on her mid-performance, she shrieked, nearly threw her phone at me, and yelled “Privacy, dammit!” in a voice that sounded more middle-aged smoker than child star.
The burner phone we’re using to contact Martin chimes in Sage’s hand beside me. “He said he’ll be ready in about an hour.”
“Let’s get everything nice and set up for him, then.” I put the car in drive and head back to the cabin.
Sage and I make quick work of gathering everything we need while we’re there. A little too quick, because at one point she trips over the duct tape roll and almost face-plants into the tackle box. She pops up like a deranged meerkat, waves a knife, and says, “This is part of the plan.” I don’t ask which plan—ours or aLooney Tunesone.
After that little incident, we head toward the lake. That’s where we told Martin to meet us.
It’s late enough that the lake is completely empty. Nobody else is hanging around swimming for the day. Besides, it’s a Tuesday night and people have to work in the morning. Well, not everyone. Martin clearly has time to kill.
“Are you nervous?” I ask Sage before I prepare to leave her.
She shakes her head and takes a deep breath. “Let’s kill this fucker,” she says with ire in her voice.
After we found Martin in a nearby county, we set up a trap for him. He’s a sick fuck who likes young girls. So Sage has been impersonating one. She made a fake Instagram account that she’s been posting on semi-regularly using AI images as bait for these creeps. Her online persona is a twelve-year-old named Mary with strict parents who homeschool her, so she doesn’t have many friends.
Martin thinks her parents are out of town for a work conference and they’re letting her stay by herself for the first time, hoping that she can prove to them she’s responsible. Of course Martin had to jump at the opportunity to offer her some company.
Now they’re meeting at the lake for the first time. Martin’s going to teach her how to swim.
I hide in the tree line and wait, keeping my eyes glued to Sage the entire time. She sits on a picnic table and makes herself look small and frail. She’s wearing baggy clothes and a breast binder, so it’s less obvious that she’s older than she says.
In the distance, I see the silhouette of a man, and I know instantly it’s Martin. He waves and calls out for Mary, and Sage stands up to wait for him. He’s carrying some food and drinks with him as if it’s some kind of friendly, disarming gesture.
