"See you later, man. Do what I told you. You'll hear from her soon," Brian said, sending Marcus off. Marcus smiled, thinking about reconciling with Vivian, taking Brian's advice to heart.
"Damn idiot," Brian muttered to himself, checking left and right. No one was suspicious or watching him. He went inside to get his daughter, but paused. If he left her with Vivian, Vivian couldn't scream when she woke up. He valued Love too much and didn't want to scare her.
"Sorry, Love, but I'll be right back," Brian said, picking her up along with a few of her toys. He went down the basement stairs. Vivian was still unconscious, and the lingering stench of the body hadn't faded.
"I can't leave you here, Love," Brian whispered, stepping back upstairs to place her down safely. He grabbed tape from a cabinet and returned to the basement, binding Vivian's mouth, arms, and legs. "I'm sorry, but I'll be right back. You know that," he said, locking the door behind him.
Brian carried the body to the place he had killed the previous victim. No one was around this time. He had used the shovel purchased from the market the night he killed Sami.
"Let's get this over with," he muttered, starting to dig. He wore gloves, avoiding smoking, keeping DNA evidence minimal. He just wanted to bury the body and leave. But just as he started, police sirens cut through the forest. "Shit," Brian muttered, jumping into the car, hoping to get away.
He avoided police until he reached the edge of the forest, when a young officer, maybe thirty at most, stopped him.
"What are you doing here at this hour, sir?"
"I came to hunt, check out the area. Seems like not a good spot though," Brian replied.
"Hunting?" the officer asked, then requested his license and registration.
"Brian Easton, huh?"
"Yes, officer."
"You look familiar…famous, maybe?"
"No, officer. But hey, this is America. Lots of Brians, right?"
The officer glanced carefully at Brian, then toward the back seat. He noticed the carpets, leaning in. Brian's heart raced.
"Is it reasonable to drive around the forest with this many carpets, Mr. Easton?" the officer asked.
"Unfortunately, officer, I realize that. But what can I do? My daughter's always spilling stuff, I just tried to wash them, then meanwhile came here to check."
"For what reason?"
"What ?" Brian said.
"Why did you come here to check?"
"I told you, officer, I want to hunt, just checking the area."
"Okay," the officer said, moving to the trunk. "Open the trunk!"
"Holy fucking shit!" Brian thought, his heart pounding. "What do I do? What do I do?" He was on the verge of being caught. "Fuck—fuck—fuck—fuck!!"
"Open it, I said!" the police officer repeated. Brian had no choice but to obey. "o-okay," he stammered, his mind racing. He thought of two options: either hit the gas and run, or surrender to fate. But even if he got away, the cops knew his plate and name. He'd still be questioned eventually, no matter what. And where could he even dump the body at this point?
"Fuck—fuck—fuck—fuck!!" Brian screamed inside again as he reached for the trunk latch. Just as he was about to press it, a gunshot rang out.