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Chapter Twenty-Eight
Joel
Alight snow dusted the ground as I heaved the body into the freshly dug hole. Snowflakes began to fall and settle into the dirt. It was like a beautiful blanket over the body, which felt appropriate.
I had wanted to shoot him, but he was desperate and begged for his life. He cried like a baby, but I felt little sympathy for him. He was a criminal, although that’s not why I killed him. It wasn’t out of rage or revenge, or because he wouldn’t shut up with his grand life advice. I did it because that was my job. There was no emotional attachment to his death, only duty.
The snow fell harder and harder until there were no signs of me being at the grave. It looked as if it had always been that way.
It was late, and I ended up sleeping in my truck at a road stop. Not that I got much sleep. It was cold, and the quarters were tight. At the first signs of dawn, I found a pay phone and dialed Layla’s room at the Apricot Inn. I haven’t been able to reach her since I arrived and part of me is concerned she’s gone on one of her benders.
As the phone rang, I was thinking about Robinette Mason and what he might have been like as a kid. I’ve often found people don’t change all that much. Not my typical thoughts, but I blame it on lack of sleep. Robbie was wanted dead or alive, but it didn’t take five minutes for me to realize it was going to turn out to be the former. It’s usually better that way, especially for the person who’s wanted, because either way, dead is usually how they end up. At least I’m humane about it.
The phone continued to ring, and I shifted from one foot to the other, my patience wearing thin. I figured Layla would be asleep, but I also knew she’d be expecting my call. I’d told her I’d be in touch as soon as the job was done.
I hung up, fed the pay phone several more nickels, and dialed again. On the third ring, someone picked up, but it wasn’t Layla. It was a male voice, and he sounded like he was sobbing.
“Hello?”
“Joel?”
“Hello?”
“Joel, it’s Ray.” He inhaled sharply, making it clear something was very wrong. “Oh God, Joel…”
“Ray, where’s Layla?”
“You need to get back here,” was all he said, and then he hung up the phone.
