Edward is coming, so is Arnold. The more the book shrinks, the closer they come, like tigers. The character named after her is a ninny. Susan Ninny, it hurts her feelings. She has no spare feelings to be hurt just now, and she reads on.
Nocturnal Animals 25
Tony Hastings saw Ray Marcus on the mountain road to George’s house. He took shape from the darkness in the flash of Tony’s headlights on a curve, man walking on the shoulder, gray shirt, jeans, reflecting buckle, turning to look, and Tony did not realize who he was until the man was again in the dark behind the car, though the possibility of seeing him had been on Tony’s mind from the start. Seeing him, he thought, that’s not Ray because that would be mind over matter, and then, after the flood of light had left the bald forehead and narrowed jaw and face, it was too late to stop. Tony’s instinct was to hide his face, requiring an explicit assurance to himself in words that there was nothing to fear, he being in the car and it too dark for Ray to make him out. He drove on, only then remembering he was supposed to capture Ray with that gun he had.
Going on up the next curve, he wondered if he should stop and go back and realized if he did the man would run into the woods. Therefore the real reason why he had not stopped was not fear of Ray but that the place was not propitious. He could not have stopped on the curve back there, jamming his brakes and backing up, without giving Ray the alarm and letting him get away. Maybe he could turn around further on and catch him from the other direction.
The road started to descend, and just as he was thinking the curves looked familiar, he noticed something white in the woods over the next curve and recognized in the dark, unlit, the trailer, the horrible deathbed trailer. He had not realized Bobby’s map, which he had memorized, would take him on this road. It shocked him, followed by some chilly thrill of wanting to stop, ghoul, but for his errand and Ray Marcus approaching on foot from the other side of the crest.
He drove more slowly now, still thinking about why he had not stopped to recapture Ray. He did not like to think what Bobby Andes would say, cowardice, sloth. He wondered if it was possible to capture him from a car at any place on this road. The curves, the woods, the night. On the other hand, knowing what to expect, having the gun, being prepared. He was Bobby thinking, Too many excuses. He decided to do it, yes, rectify the cowardice, what he owed. The question was when? Now or eventually. Whether he’ll disappear if you don’t do it now. On the other hand, there’s no place for Ray to go on this road, it’ll be a long time before he gets to another. The question was whether to interrupt his errand to George, so as to catch Ray, or go to George first. He didn’t want to have to catch Ray all by himself, but that did not have to be the reason. He would go first to George because how could he explain his prisoner while talking to George?
Then there was a better reason. He was not a deputy, it wasn’t his job to catch fugitives. More than that. The police themselves had released Ray Marcus, so it wasn’t police work at all. Nor had Tony Hastings murdered Lou Bates, it was Bobby Andes did that. Tony Hastings was not Bobby Andes. Repeat that. It wasn’t his fault Bobby had kidnapped Ray. It wasn’t his fault Bobby had shot Lou Bates. Up to now, he was a bystander, a witness, but not implicated. He hoped he was not implicated. But if he tried to detain Ray Marcus on his own, that would make him accomplice, accessory.
Catch him yourself, he said. Don’t involve me in your dirty tactics. A surge of anger, a certain joy, words rising. Don’t hook me in your terminal rage. Don’t crash your fatality on my head. Astonishment to see how much Bobby Andes took for granted. Assuming everyone made the same connection between grief, loss, and revenge. Assuming no one cared how the man died so long as he died. Assuming no one minded complicity in murder to avenge murder. Assuming everyone was as desperate as he. Tony thought, it’s my tragedy, who do you think you are?
They would say, We’ll hang your murderers, but we might hang you too. Detectives would probe his story for discrepancies. Courtroom lawyers would cross-examine him. Judges would ask why he allowed himself to get involved. Prosecutors pushing beyond the first excuse would search for the active conspiracy. Bystanders, strangers, and former friends would look for the even worse not yet revealed. In the solitude of the car he spoke, God damn you, Bobby. For a moment Bobby Andes was as unpleasant to him as Ray Marcus. For a moment only, for the thought shocked him, since it ignored the great evil done him and who was trying to pursue that evil and burn it out. Never allow yourself to forget the difference between Ray Marcus and Bobby Andes. Which restored to mind his debt to Bobby Andes, who for Tony’s sake was now jeopardizing his name and his career. It didn’t make Tony like him, but it made him feel ashamed. If he betrayed Bobby Andes now.
The darkened house just passed on the left must be George’s. He backed up and drove in the driveway, a white house without lights. The dogs barking in back would be the dogs he had come for. He remembered other sleeping houses a year ago when he had passed afraid to stop, to be a stranger at a rural door at night. He thought if he could get past the danger of knocking, George would recognize him. If they challenged, he could yell, Bobby Andes sent me.
Repeat the message: He wants your dogs over at his camp. Now, in the night, a man got away. The man himself—Tony just realized this—the man is no longer in the woods, the man is on this road a mile or so back, coming this way. So what do you need dogs for?
The absurdity of the message, Tony Hastings wondered what to do now. Parked here in George Remington’s driveway in sudden embarrassment, what to say if George wakes up? Or what to do instead? Do you go back to Bobby and say, I didn’t wake George because I saw Ray Marcus on the road, no need for dogs? I didn’t pick up Marcus either, but I can tell you where he was.
He remembered George was one of the police who had helped Bobby pick up Ray. Maybe it was all right to tell him. The man you helped catch got away. Bobby wanted your dogs, but since the man is right down the road now, you can recapture him yourself.
A light came on upstairs. A head appeared, silhouette, shadow, hair, no face. A female voice, “Who’s out there?”
Tony called from the car. “I’m looking for George.”
“What do you want with him?”
“Message from Lieutenant Andes.”
A short silence. He thought, I’ll ask George to come down, not to shout across this space. Bobby sent me, the man got away, I won’t say anything about shooting Lou. The woman in the window said, “He ain’t here. He’s working the night.”
“All right. Thank you.”
Thank God, he thought. Then he realized what faced him now, and the stupidity of his relief. Without George. He started the car but hesitated to back out because he couldn’t think what to do next. Two things, the only possibilities. Either he drove back to the camp (passing and ignoring Ray Marcus on the road) and waited there for Bobby to return with his men to pick up Lou, at that time to tell him I saw Ray Marcus on the road an hour ago but didn’t pick him up, he’s probably gone now but that’s where he was. Or he drove back, looking for Ray so as to stop and point the gun at him and make a threat convincing enough to persuade him into the car, putting his hands through the two open windows handcuffed together so that he could announce to Bobby when he returned to the camp with his men: I got him for you.