IX
Jillian's eyes hurt from being so wide as she couldn't stop reading the familiar scribble on the page in front of her..
“April 9th …searching – finding – killing – disposal was the least inviting but most important… but maybe others will appreciate the spectacle of my display…”
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The brown haired man’s greatest masterpiece to date was laid out before him. He amazed himself at his own perfection, each time was better than the last. From his kneeing position, there in the woods it felt like a temple or secluded holy site where he alone was at the center of bliss! The exhilarated high of adrenaline still rushed through his veins as he now turned his attention to the other matter; less thrilling, ugly mundane but most necessary. He removed the folded shovel from his gym bag, which he had brought earlier with him, along with the girl’s backpack as he carried her off into the woods.
The sweaty, blood soaked, brown haired man dug three holes and ensured they were deep. They were several feet apart from one another. In two of them went the girl’s parts in the third he threw her backpack and clothes; he kept her yellow sundress as a token of the occasion. Then he undressed and redressed into the new ones he brought with him. After pouring gasoline over everything, even a cadaver dog would not be able to sniff it out, he thought to himself. The holes were then covered and camouflaged with leaves like the surrounding area.
Moments later he emerged from the woods with the red haired girls flavors still on his thoughts and a smile on his face as he headed to his car. Crossing the empty culvert the driver placed his things back into the car’s trunk. Before getting back into his vehicle he squatted for another look at the right rear wheel. Not flat but it could use some air. Off in the distance he saw another car approaching, and stayed where he was for a moment longer. It was a Police vehicle.
After the car came to a rolling stop the officer got out. Still standing behind his own opened door he called out to the stranger, “What seems to be the problem?”
“Thought it was a flat, just needs air.”
“Where are you headed?”
“To San Angelo, for a job interview with a TV station; I’m the weather man,” he froze in a hero’s pose, showing his pearly whites and square chin.
The Cop scoffed a laugh, gave a two finger salute from the brim of his hat and said, “Well, good luck to you, careful on the road.”
“Thanks, and thanks for making sure I was alright,” the driver said as he readjusted the full Winsor knot of his dark blue tie.
The officer reentered his squad car, and sat there as the driver ahead returned behind his wheel, and then was on his way. After they both passed a tiny trailer home, a half mile down the road, the Police car’s lights lit up and the sirens blared on. The Mustang ahead began to slow down and pull over. The driver’s hand reached for a knife from deep within the cushion beside him. Suddenly, the patrol car behind him made a squealing turnabout and sped down the road from where he came, leaving the Ford to plan his next adventure.
CONTINUE Reading... 10
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