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JOE OBSESSED ABOUT Minka all the way down 84, stopping for gas and a burger in the middle of the desert between big cities. Minka’s behavior wasn’t what he expected. She should have crawled back to him a long time ago. It was that neighbor. He protected her, made her feel like there were other options besides Joe. After four hours on the road, Joe finally came to the conclusion that Minka had truly left him.
Finishing up his fries, Joe noticed a woman out in the piddle park with one of those little fluff balls on a leash. Minka had a Yorkie. The dog stayed with Minka’s mother in Eatonville. Smiling, Joe threw his empty fry box in the bag. Minka would pay for dismissing him.
It was the longest trip he had driven. Not in miles or time, but in anticipation. On his way back, he picked up a load in Portland destined for a warehouse in Kent. He rolled in past receiving hours which worked out fine for him. Normally the closures at three-thirty drove him crazy. Everyone else stayed open until five. Why not the warehouse? But today, it worked to his benefit. He rolled in at four, parked his semi, and walked to the gas station with a duffel bag. Inside the duffel he’d stuffed a heavy black garbage bag.
He called a rental car company and rented a car for the evening. He could make it to Eatonville, kill the dog, and be back in Seattle before evening. It was a shame Minka couldn’t know she was being punished. He could drop it on Minka’s doorstep. She would know it was him, would probably tell the police, but he would have an alibi. He’d check into a hotel in Kent. Tell the detectives he wanted a real bed, that he’d been having trouble sleeping in the cab. That would explain why he looked so bad.
Expensive alibi, but Joe could pull it off.
He parked out of camera range and checked into the hotel, taking the elevator to his room, even though there were only three flights of stairs. He left the key to the room on the table. He wouldn’t bother coming back. He just needed to show that he checked in. On the way out, he took the stairs and avoided the cameras.
Joe drove ninety, enjoying the thrill of those large curves with the dangerous sensation that he might fly off the road at any time. Remembering that getting caught would place him at the scene, Joe finally slowed down to a reasonable pace as he passed North Bend.
Joe daydreamed about kicking down the door and slapping Minka’s mom a bit. That woman. This was all her fault. If she had raised Minka to be a one-man woman, Minka wouldn’t be hanging off of some stranger’s arm.
People were witnesses. The dog would have to do.
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IT WAS TUESDAY MORNING. Minka hummed under her breath while she blow dried her hair. Sunday with Sven had been wonderful. No matter how much they talked, it seemed they always had more to say. She enjoyed being with him, and from every indication, he enjoyed being with her as well. The world was right.
The apartment was finally starting to feel like home. Minka brewed a cup of coffee and sat at her dining room table reading a regency romance. She’d stayed up a half hour past bedtime before putting it down. She slept well, only waking up once. In her sleeping state, she thought she’d heard a thump outside the door. It didn’t register as anything so she rolled over and went back to sleep.
The kitchen timer went off right in the middle of the ballroom dance. With a groan, Minka turned off the timer and slipped the book into her purse. Time for work.
Minka opened the door in a hurry and almost stepped on...the thing left for her to find. There was blood everywhere. Minka screamed. She recoiled back, away from the mess. It was scattered right in front of her door. There was no way to go around or over. Sven threw the door open across the way.
“Holy Crap,” Sven stared at the animal remains. He said, “Go back inside. Shut the door. I’m going to call the police. We’ll get this sorted.”
Minka nodded. She wanted Sven to hold her, but neither of them could cross the space between their doors without getting blood or fur on their shoes. Sven called the police. Minka called work.
She kept the door shut. Her hands shook. A good part of the shaking was anger. This was Joe’s doing. Minka was lucky to have Sven. After the police were through, Sven bagged the animal, scrubbed the door, the outer wall, and the concrete. At least Minka hadn’t yet put out a welcome mat. Sven stuffed the dirty towel in the bag with the dog. Poor thing.
Maybe he could talk Minka into going to the shooting range with him. Her ex had crossed the line to a whole new level of crazy. A few hours later, after handling the remains and showering the stench off, Sven knocked on Minka’s door.
Her hair, swept up for work, had come loose from the clip, small tendrils floating around her face. Even in distress, Minka carried herself with dignity. With a wan smile, she said, “I’m sorry. This isn’t the way I like to date.”
Sven hugged her and joked, “At least we’re well past the awkward stage. Would you like to come over to my place and watch television and eat homemade mac and cheese?”
“I’d love to,” Minka leaned her head on his shoulder, not ready to end the hug.
“May I offer a small suggestion?” Sven asked.
Something about the hesitation made Minka pause. Cautiously, she said, “Yes?”
“Go for comfort. If you have some old pajamas and a t-shirt, that would be the perfect attire for this dinner date. I’m going to wear my Snoopy boxers. I know, I’m living on the edge.” Sven squeezed and released Minka in time to see her smile.
“Do you really have Snoopy boxers?” Minka asked.
In a stage whisper, Sven said, “Why not come over and find out.”
Sven eased the horror of the day, and Minka found herself wishing that there could be more. Despite the logistical problems of dating someone about to leave. Despite the fear of another guy like Joe. Despite her own insecurities and need, Minka relished every moment with Sven, anticipated upcoming dates with joy. He brought her peace.
They cuddled on the couch, Sven in Snoopy boxers and a t-shirt. Minka wore pajama bottoms as requested and a tie-dye t-shirt. It was the best of her sleeping shirts. Had she been living on the edge, she would have grabbed the white t-shirt with the crabby smiley face who wanted coffee.
Minka fell asleep with Sven’s arms around her while they watched Hook. While she snuggled with the neighbor, her phone rang, going to voicemail.
Joe called from a Kent gas station, a number Minka wouldn’t know to block. If Minka or the police checked phone records, his call would be one more proof of innocence. He said, “Hey, Hon. I know I’ve screwed up bad. I heard what happened and I just wanted to call. It wasn’t me. I’m running a long-haul load in Seattle. You know I wouldn’t hurt an animal like that. You know me. Come back home. We’ll forget anything happened and go back to being happy.”
The message light signaled his intrusion, flashing on and off like a warning.