Not surprisingly, the police station in Snow Crest consisted of a couple of officers and that was it. There was only one guy in the jail cell, and he was just the neighborhood drunk who started fights at the bar.
We were prepared for the cops to laugh at us as we explained our story. Rigby went first and they knew about him and his zany ways. But when we started telling them what we saw, that’s when the cops thought we were really full of shit. The most we could do was pop the memory card into their television set and though there wasn’t much proof of the actual beast, there was proof that something terrible had happened out there.
Dex and I even had to concede that the whole thing could have been caused by a “mangy bear”, that damn bear always being used as the scapegoat when people tried to debunk Sasquatch sightings.
While we were talking – for hours and hours until our throats were sore – one of the officers had left with Rigby to go pick up Christina.
When they brought her into the station, I couldn’t even look at her. I just couldn’t believe that someone as young and seemingly innocent as her could do something so dangerous and so irresponsible. It didn’t matter that she did it in order to help her dad’s business – her actions got Mitch killed and it nearly killed us as well.
Thankfully, at that point we had explained all there was to explain. The cops wanted to keep the SD card as evidence and Dex only agreed to it if they promised to give it back. But I was beginning to wonder if it was even a good idea to air the show after all. A man died. He actually died during all of this and now that we were back in the real world, faced with real consequences, showing the scene of a murder for profit seemed downright wrong.
I voiced this to Dex as we left the station, his arm wrapped firmly around my side, trying to prevent me from going after Christina in a flurry of hateful word vomit.
“I’m thinking the same thing,” he admitted. We walked together down the darkened street to the Highlander. It sounds strange, but I wished I could have kept walking. I needed to clear my head. I was all messed up inside and I couldn’t seem to get a handle on anything. The creature, Mitch, what Christina had done. It was way too much for my tired brain to handle.
“I really don’t want to go back there,” I told him, folding my arms across my chest. Because it was so dark out, the cops were getting some extra enforcement from the town of Cranbrook and initiating a full-on search in the morning. We were going to have to go back up to Rigby’s and maybe the cabin. I hoped Rigby and a map would be able to take the team the rest of the way because there was no way we were reenacting our journey for them.
“We won’t,” he said. “This isn’t a murder investigation, this is an animal attack and if anything I’m sure we’re going to be suffering from PTSD soon. Anyway, I have a plan if they do try and make us.”
“What’s that?”
“We cross the border,” he answered and the streetlights gleamed in his cheeky eyes. He shot me a look. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?”
I shook my head and got in the car. “The hospital here is probably administered by a vet. I’m fine. I’m just sore. I’m just tired. I just want to eat, then eat some more and pass out. I want to sleep in a warm bed and I want to sleep for days.”
We turned the corner into the familiar glow of the motel.
“I can promise you food and a warm bed,” he told me. He eyed the hot tub as we pulled the car up beside it. “And it’s never too late for a dip in the hot tub.”
That was probably the best idea I had heard in days.
We checked back in, the front desk lady eyeing Dex down like a criminal. She hadn’t forgotten about the incident with the mirror and he had to promise – swearing on a random bible that she plunked out on the counter – that we weren’t going to cause any more trouble. He swore with utmost sincerity but I knew that look in his eyes all too well. He was enjoying the fuss.
Once again we got two separate rooms. And once again, my heart dipped a bit. It was the right thing to do, for both of us, but I knew it was going to be harder sleeping away from him. It had to be done, though. It’s not like we’d go back to sleeping together once we got back to Seattle. It would be me in my room and he in his. The room next door.
I plunked my bag on the springy motel bed, so tempted to just pass out on it, face down. But Dex was knocking at the adjoining door before I could. I got up and answered it.
He grinned at me and I was struck by how much I loved it when he smiled. I mean really smiled. White teeth, tanned face, black hair. It was perfect.
“Pizza is on the way,” he announced, not coming in.
“That was fast.”
“I have fast fingers.” Another grin.
My eyes shot up to the ceiling and I hoped the heat creeping up my neck wasn’t noticeable.
“It’s handy when you’re dialing for takeout,” he continued, in mock earnestness. “Should we go in the hot tub now, or wait until after we eat?”
“Can we eat the pizza in the hot tub?” I asked.
He winked at me. “That’s my girl.”
He closed the door, leaving me alone in my room. Which, at that moment, was actually a good thing. I had the vision of him saying a very similar phrase the day before, our naked bodies on the silver space blankets, him coaxing me to another orgasm.
Holy shit. That was an image that wasn’t leaving my head anytime soon. It felt wrong to be mildly turned on after everything we had been through. I began to think maybe I needed a cold shower instead of a dip in the hot tub.
I didn’t have much time to contemplate it. I got into my black Slayer t-shirt and black booty shorts and was covering myself up with the thin motel robe when Dex knocked at my door again.
“Pizza,” he called out and opened the door, walking right in. He was dressed in the same robe, the box of pizza balancing on one hand, a 2 liter of Coke in the other.
“Hey, I could have been changing,” I warned him, wrapping the robe tighter.
“That was the idea.”
“You’re the worst pizza delivery boy ever,” I said, pushing past him through the door into his room.