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Lauren had spent the day reading and wasting away time on her laptop. She ached to go running or to go into town to browse a shop, get groceries, or even walk along the street… but she knew Roderick would disapprove.
Her day sounded relaxing and the kind that she'd needed, but it wasn't. Truth be told, she couldn't relax if she wanted to. Her muscles were stiff at attention and every noise she heard made her look twice.
Roderick didn't scare her. Nameless followers of Joe Carroll, the real monsters, did.
She'd even looked up Carroll online. The FBI said they were getting closer but obviously they were ten steps behind. She tried not to read the articles and news reports about civilians being killed if they were in the way. She tried not to read the terms 'throat slit,' 'harpooned,' or 'stabbed.' It seemed like most of the people killing were followers, not Joe Carroll…people who mean to impress him and show their dedication. She wondered if Roderick had killed in the same way when Carroll got out of prison.
Those thoughts had sent her from her laptop, closing the top with a shaking hand. She knew Roderick had killed for Joe Carroll…. and very recently. She wondered if he thought of the way he killed for Carroll and the cause differently than of the way he killed for pleasure.
She closed her eyes and rubbed between them. Roderick was cold. He killed people because he liked it… he was killing now because it was his job.
But he was no longer liking his job… Joe Carroll had betrayed him… Lauren hoped the killing for him would stop as well.
Gingerly, she rose from her desk, head heavy with thoughts of killing and blood. She checked her watch, it was seven thirty. It was getting dark. She knew Roderick probably wouldn't come tonight… and she knew where he would be.
Knowing she'd barely eaten all day, she pulled herself to the kitchen and dug through the fridge, pushing past Roderick's leftover beers. She pulled out some lettuce to make herself a salad.
Knife about to slice into the romaine, she heard tires on her driveway gravel. Slow, cautious tires, not the erratic driving of Roderick. It was someone else.
Knife still in her hand, Lauren carefully tiptoed along the hallway wall, where she could look outside.
She saw a county sheriff's department cruiser edging slowly, but it wasn't him.
Lauren still held her breath, unsure.
The cruiser parked and Deputy Max Hutchinson stepped out of the car, adjusting his jacket, looking over Lauren's house.
She relaxed. She'd know Max for years. Taking a step towards the front door, she realized she still had the knife in her hand.
Laughing at how awkward that initial contact would be, she hurried to the kitchen to put it away before she opened the front door.
Max had taken his time surveying around her house and the surrounding woods. He was at the bottom of her stairs when she finally opened the door.
"Hey there, Lauren," he beamed with a smile. He was pure New England, Havenport to the T.
She smiled, pushing her hair off her shoulder. "Max, what are you doing here?"
She knew the answer but still tried to act surprised.
"Tim said you had some kids fooling around in the woods and vandalizing property. He asked if I'd take some time tonight to check it out and keep on eye on things for you," he said holding her gaze steadily, standing straighter to get her attention, eyes on her scar.
"Oh, yeah, I'm glad Tim took me seriously," Lauren mused, "Who knows what trouble those teenagers could get into!"
Nice story, Roderick, she thought, Keep your friend on the lookout for strangers prowling my woods.
Max smiled. "And you know I don't pass up an opportunity to see a gorgeous face."
Lauren blushed. "Can I get you a drink or something?"
Max shook his head, looking off into the woods. "No, thank you, though. I'll be in my cruiser most of the night. You shouldn't even notice I'm out here."
Lauren nodded, hoping he was right. The thought of someone on her property to look out for her made her nervous of the alternative.
Deputy Max Hutchinson strolled back to his cruiser, still looking around like he was looking for more than rowdy teenagers.
Lauren wondered if Max was in the following, too… and if he really knew what was going on….
Lauren had heard the voice of the person who called Roderick earlier. He sounded mad. If Joe Carroll was mad that Roderick was gone and had been with Lauren, he might do something to prevent that from happening again. Roderick could hold his own. She doubted that anyone in the following would confront him directly, but she knew that anyone like that would view her as easy prey.
Lauren did her best to be a strong, confident woman, the type that Roderick liked to kill when he first met her and also the same type of person he'd like to recruit. She did her best to hold steady and persevere, the same qualities that Roderick admired in bed, but she knew it still lacked. She could defend herself against a mugger or a carjacker, but not a killer. Mugger and robbers want items and things. Killers wanted your life. There was no bargaining, no clever tricks, or diversions. Lauren knew that if she faced a killer, she'd lose.
When she checked the doors and windows before she went to bed, Lauren could see Max walking down her driveway, peering into the woods, flashlight off and at his side so as not to hinder his night vision
When she finally started to fall asleep, after hours of listening to the dark and hearing crickets, she hoped that Max would stay until dawn. Sure someone could kill him if they wanted to get to her but again, it made her feel better.
Lauren hoped Roderick was overreacting but she wasn't quite sure. She hoped she wouldn't have to find out the hard way.
When she woke, Max Hutchinson was gone. His cruiser had left tire tracks in her driveway and his boots left marks in the soft ground at the edge of the trees. Lauren felt relieved as she sipped tea on her front porch in her pajamas and slippers.
She felt like Roderick had overreacted, that Max being there hadn't been necessary and it'd only made her more nervous.
Then again…. Roderick knew what and who he was dealing with… and he'd thought it was necessary.
Lauren shook her head, trying to rid herself of the thought.
At her feet, her morning paper lay. Max Hutchinson had delivered it from the end of the driveway. She made a mental note to tell Roderick he'd gotten it for her rather than her walking down to the end of the driveway.
Lauren spent the rest of the day reading novels she said she'd read last year. She put away her winter clothes and cleaned out the attic.
She tried not to feel like she was under house arrest. She tried not to think about where Roderick was or what was happening.
If this was any other day, Lauren would have carried on with her life like she'd done when he first left her. She would have gone for a run and gotten some groceries, treating herself to a movie at home and ice cream. She would have carried on like nothing ever happened.
If this was any other day, she would have basked in the glory that she could remain unattached and independent.
But today, she felt stifled. She felt trapped, she felt dependent. She hated it.
The daylight made her feel less nervous, more irritated. She didn't like that she was waiting around for Roderick. She'd never done that before.
As darkness crept, Lauren's annoyance fled, nerves inching their way back into her brain.
She was on the couch watching TV when she heard familiar tires on the gravel from the end of the road. She suspected that Max Hutchinson was back for night watch #2.
But then she heard the engine get closer and the car sped up despite the gravel. Max drove slowly. It was not him.
Lauren stood up quickly, eyes on the ground, ear turned towards the road, listening.
The brakes squealed and gravel was kicked onto the porch like little hailstones. Lauren knew without a doubt it was Roderick.
She waited for a second, knowing that if he was mad, she better stay away and let him cool down.
She waited a little longer but never heard the door open.
Lauren started walking towards the front door and through the front window, she could see Roderick's cruiser, idling in the driveway.
As she opened her door and stepped onto the porch, he opened his car door.
Sweat beaded his forehead and his hair hung disheveled in his eyes. Holding onto the door frame, Roderick pulled himself out of the cruiser in agony, blood pooling at his feet.