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“I see. Well, you know where everything is. I just put a new chain on the chainsaw not too long ago, so we shouldn’t have any issues like last time,” the farmer replies, motioning over to the barn just a stone’s throw away from us.
Steven nods, and we both climb back into the truck to park it closer to the barn door. From a disembodied third-person standpoint, it would appear like we were just moving some supplies or equipment into the barn. Nothing suspicious about it whatsoever.
The setup here is pretty genius. It’s a shame we don’t have this in Chicago.
Steven flicks on a light switch to the right of the door, illuminating the white brick interior. “See those tools on the wall? We can’t use those. The ones we use are underneath in that work bench.”
Even though I’ve disposed of more bodies than I care to admit, all of those incidents had an overtone of business as usual. This entire thing, start to finish, feels like the beginning of a very dark path to be on.
Ironically, I never felt weird about the bodies I’d thrown into the lake. They were men of the trade who calculated the risks and lost. Cole was a known serial killer, a brutal murderer of women, a class of people that he despised.
Yet, for some reason, I feel sick about this.
Steven walks over to the work bench and opens up a hidden compartment full of tools. A chainsaw, an axe, a hatchet, and a flaying knife are all a part of his demented surgical setup.
“Wait, what’s that?” I ask, pointing to what looks like a gigantic pair of pliers.
“It’s a rongeur. They use these in orthopedic surgery. It helps cut the bones more cleanly in case the saw gets jammed,” he replies as he checks the jaws for pieces of his last victim.
We lay the body out on the concrete floor, and even in repose, Cole has to be the ugliest man I’ve ever seen. His dishwater blonde hair looks like it hasn’t been washed in weeks, and his chin is shaped in such a way that it somehow looks scrotal against the fat of his neck. What Cambria saw in him, I have no idea.
“Okay, first thing’s first, we obviously need to remove any identifiers. Teeth and fingers go first. That way, if we’re interrupted, nobody will know who he is,” Steven instructs as he passes me a set of pliers.
“You do the teeth. I’ll get the fingers.”
I hesitate at first. I’ve never been the person to do any of this. I only ever had James or Isaac do it before I poured concrete over the head and dumped the body.
“Don’t be a pussy. Your girlfriend is looking at twenty-five to life if you don’t follow through.”
He’s right. Cambria would have had a shot at claiming self-defense if she hadn’t unloaded an entire magazine into Cole’s body. Not to mention, there was no sign of forced entry. Cole could have just been there for any reason, and she shot him.
“Okay, okay, fine,” I say as I carefully pry open his mouth. It’s too early for maggots, thank fuck. I’d probably puke out my guts if I had to pick maggots out of my way.
The first tooth comes out relatively easily, snapping out of the root like a stalk of celery with its nerves attached. I begin working on the top teeth first, accidentally crushing a few of them with the pliers. He must have had some sort of tooth decay going on. Not a surprise for someone who received no care in prison for so long.
I keep working at the teeth until I’m done, trying to somehow distract myself from the squelching of Cole’s fingers as Steven snips them one by one.
I put down the pliers, glancing down at my pile of teeth with disgust. “I think that’s all of them,” I say with some hesitation.
“No, you need to check behind the molars in case he has wisdom teeth still buried in the gums. Here, use this,” he replies as he hands me the flaying knife.
Goddamn it.
I open Cole’s mouth wider, placing a stray block of wood between his upper and lower gums to keep them separate while I flay open his jaws.
Sure enough, he’s got wisdom teeth.
I don’t think James or Isaac was ever this thorough. This guy’s professionalism and knowledge is the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen.
After cutting out the two extra teeth, Steven begins to work on the limbs with the chain saw. The noise of the saw is fucking terrible. It’s so loud and aggressive that I could vomit, especially under the circumstances.
But I can’t do that.
I need to stay focused for Cambria.
Her life is on the line if I don’t.
“Okay, the acid is in a shed further back on the property. He doesn’t want it in here in case his animals or grandkids could get into it,” Steven says as he begins packing the dismembers parts into a sturdy cardboard box.
