AllFreeNovel
Share Us
22
Bayou Barataria, Louisiana
THURSDAY, JULY 28, 6:15 A.M.
Lamont got out of the car he’d stolen, looking east with a frown. The sun had started to rise. He’d hoped to finish this under the cover of darkness, but stealing a car to make the trip had taken more time than he’d expected.
He’d chosen a name from his list—a meth dealer that he’d helped evade charges a few years before. The man lived close enough to the bayou that it would be quick and easy to borrow his car, dump Ashley’s body, then drive back and get his own vehicle. If anyone saw the sedan near the water’s edge, it would fall back on the meth head.
All he’d wanted was the man to leave his keys in the car, which he’d told him when he’d called him shortly before his arrival. Unfortunately, the meth head had met him with a rifle and a demand for hush money.
So he’d had to take care of the idiot before taking his car and heading here, to the bayou. Now he needed to hurry.
It was still dark enough to hide his face, but he donned the zip-up hoodie anyway, snugging the hood over the ball cap he wore. One never knew when he’d encounter a fisherman out this early. Those guys were far too common in these parts.
And even if he didn’t meet up with a fisherman, his skin would be mostly covered by the hoodie, keeping the worst of the gore out of his hair and off of his face. He’d discard the hoodie afterward. It would be pretty disgusting by then.
His hands were sweating from the leather gloves he wore, but there was no way he was taking them off and leaving fingerprints on the stolen car. He hadn’t come this far to be stupid.
Instead, he pulled a pair of disposable gloves on over the leather ones so that they didn’t get messed up. He liked his leather gloves. They were formfitting, allowing him to fire a gun while wearing them. He’d prefer not to have to throw them away, too.
Opening his trunk, he took out the smaller of the two boxes that he’d wrapped in silver paper. Ripping the paper away, he examined the box, top, sides, and bottom.
It was clean. No leaks. Triple-bagging had done the job.
He took the bag from the box and carried it to the water’s edge. It was still quiet, but the bayou was waking up. Birds were starting to rustle, and fish were feeding on the bugs that swarmed on the water’s surface.
It was deep here. Or, at least, it had been.
He frowned at the exposed roots of the trees, not remembering them from the last time he’d dumped a body in this waterway. It had been after Katrina, though. They’d come in a boat that night, but he’d returned once the floodwaters had receded.
Just to make sure that Nadia’s body was truly gone. Luckily, it had been.
He hoped the water was still deep enough for what he needed it to do.
The first bag wouldn’t be a problem. Ashley’s fingers and toes would soon be fish food. He’d picked up a loose brick from a construction site after buying the knife set and had tied it to her torso, so it would sink. The gators would feast today.
Holding his breath, he opened the bag, held it over the water, and dumped it. Grabbing a downed tree limb, he pushed the torso into the water like it was a shuffleboard disc, then watched as it slowly sank.
One bag down, one to go. The next bag would be harder.
He got it out of the box, again making sure that he’d had no leakage. No leakage meant no fluids had soaked into the trunk’s upholstery—in this car or in the one he’d taken from his own garage and left close to the home of this car’s dead owner. Which meant that the cops would find nothing even if something terrible happened and he was suspected and investigated.
He might be. He didn’t think that anyone at the office suspected that he’d been having an affair with Ashley, but Joelle had known, and she had proof. She hadn’t been lying about the cameras in his study and the adjoining bedroom. He’d found them the night he’d walked Jackass from his study to the front door.
The cameras had been well hidden. Whoever she’d hired to install them had known their stuff. The cameras were still there, but no longer operational. He’d yanked the wires from each one. But if Joelle went looking, she’d see the cameras and wouldn’t suspect a thing.
So, because of his dear wife, he needed to cover his tracks very carefully. He opened the second bag and had to turn his face away when he took an ill-advised breath through his nose. It had only been twelve hours, but the body had started to stink.
All the better for the gators. They’d come for the stink and stay for the buffet.
He reached into the bag, pulled out an arm, and flung it into the river. It made a satisfying splash, bobbing on the surface for a second or two before sinking.
Keep going. Just don’t breathe.He didn’t want to puke. That would leave DNA that he’d have to destroy.
Quickly he tossed another arm into the water, following it with all the pieces of her legs.
Now it was just her—
