Page 2 of Boneyard HEA

He turned away, back to his phone.

After I hefted the shovel, high, and slammed it into the back of his head, those slime eyes stopped sliming, forever. Blood spattered, and he grunted as he hit the ground. One blow. I’d put all the force I possessed into that swing. I was dead lucky and he was not. It was not David and Goliath. One blow but he was no giant.

He was just fucking beautifully dead.

He took one breath, one groan, then went still, apart from several random twitches. For forever, I stared down at him, open-mouthed, shocked but triumphant, before remembering to do something more than gloat.

“How’s that for justice, Nathan, you fucker. Eat hot shovel.”

A caw had me frantically checking the surroundings before I was reassured it was only a bird sound. No one was here. No one alive, anyway. No one had seen this or heard me talking.

Late sunlight reflected off the dropped phone, the screen a blast of gold that flashed everything around me into brightness. I blinked away the blur. The phone hadn’t closed down. Stooping, I picked it up and read what was on there.

BAXTER: Don’t lose your shiny ticket to the CNC Frat event. Carpe diem. A week-long smorgasbord of kink, kinbaku, bukkake, and killer fucks. Bring a mask and a girl. Ethan will be there. Sharing is caring.

I froze, shocked…well, a little more shocked than a second ago when I’d just murdered my first man. My fingers hurt where they crushed onto the edges of the phone. I lowered the shovel, propping it against my leg.

Baxter and Ethan were Nathan’s friends. I’d overheard them introduce themselves outside the court room. If I tapped anything on here, if I sent it to myself, I may as well kneel and confess to the nearest cops.

The screen tilted. Again, light flashed in my eyes. I’d killed a man. The last bubbles of air had left his lungs. No, just no. Do not do this. I was already in enough trouble. Besides, there was no ticket attached.

I took the phone and threw it off the cliff and into the sea.

I would never get away with this without penalty, but I could still try.

So, back to the job.

“Is the hole big enough? You going to fit in there, Nathan?” I scowl and figure it’s a yes.

One last thing I really need to do, before I bury him. I need the shovel for this, too. The only negative is having to see his face after I roll back the canvas. When I gingerly move his clothes, I’m greeted with the ugliest thing ever.

I raise the shovel and bring it down. Thunk. Thunk. Two tries to get it done.

I rearrange the corpse and smile.

Perfect.

Dragging the body to the grave then filling in the hole, leaves me panting and sweating even more.

“What are we doing now, Juniper? Going crazy? Talking to myself is a start. Murdering people might be a bad sign, too, I guess?” After wiping my face with the back of my arm and my shirt, I trudge to my Nissan ute. I study the shovel, turning it this way and that way. The shadows are long and growing longer by the minute. The trees creak and the scent of gum leaves is pungent with the distinct smell of eucalyptus.

Overhead, the branches rattle and rustle as a light breeze sweeps through.

My eyes are adjusting to the lowering light of dusk, but unless I wish to drive back onto the highway with my headlights on, I should leave ASAP. Headlights would be a big clue that someone has been here on this track. This was likely once a logging road and people might recall the time they saw headlights, if the cops ever check for dashcams or interview drivers who might have passed the area. They will check, if they find the body.

Digging has scraped off the blood from the shovel blade. The visible blood, anyway.

Cops look for soil composition to figure out if you’ve been near a grave site, as well as stray hairs and bits of tissue and DNA, and…stuff. I’m no forensic scientist. I’ll toss this away, further down the road. A long way down the road, ideally.

“Can they find phones in the sea?” I hope not. I look at the trees, as if they might know. Surely the salt water should wreck the insides?

With a clatter of metal, I drop the shovel into the ute’s tray, thinking I will clean the car later, maybe at a servo. Wait, no, that would be recorded on CCTV. Do it at home and get rid of anything I hose or vacuum out.

The cops might find me and examine my car. I frown at myself. If I google how to talk to cops after you murder somebody, is that incriminating evidence? No. Wipe that attitude and that thought.

They won’t find me.

They won’t.