AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter Twenty-Four
‘The Book Doctor’
Journal Entry
He was a filthy bastard, that’s for sure. A rotten heap of human waste. A kink in the chain of existence. It’s an anomaly that he’d made it this long, but somehow he had. Lucky me.
First, I parked outside the bar and waited. While I waited, I had a lot of time for research, a lot of time to inscribe the pages of this journal. So much time.
He was a last call kind of guy, which was no big shocker. It was better for me, anyhow. If he was nice and drunk, there wouldn’t be a lot of fight left in him. Even so, it was surprising what he could do. Rednecks are built that way. They’re certainly tougher than they look. This I found out the hard way.
A half hour before closing time, I punctured the rear tire on the passenger side of his truck. In the dark, I doubted he’d notice. I was also betting even once he realized he had a flat, that he’d be drunk enough to make the dumb move of trying to make it home. It’s not easy to change a tire when you’re properly sloshed.
I should have known this wouldn’t deter him. He wasn’t the brightest of the bunch. I came upon him crouched over his tire, surveying the situation. It felt like sweet karma, considering the damage I’d seen him inflict.
I’d imagined clubbing him with his own tire iron. But there’s a saying about the best laid plans, and I know better than to marry one scenario; this is a broad universe with infinite possibilities, even when it comes to hillbillies.
We had a bit of a tussle, the two of us. Once an understanding was reached and he was well tasered, I made sure to tie him up tight. Snug as a bug in a rug, as my mother used to say. After wrapping him up all cocoon-like, I stuffed several old socks in his mouth and wound duct tape around and around his head. Then I took him, swaddled sweetly in his cocoon, and I got a long rope. I attached the rope to the cocoon, which I hooked onto a makeshift trailer hitch I’d jimmy-rigged onto my sports car.
It wasn’t ideal, but I knew it would suffice.
Once he was adequately secured, I drove him up and down the country road his kid likes to wander. I varied the speed, slow at first and then fast, so I could be sure he felt it.
I wondered what he’d look like when all was said and done. Would his body even be recognizable?
The breeze blew through my hair as I rode ever closer into the future with the top down. It was a beautiful night, warm and windy. Bright stars littered the sky, while his body parts littered the ground.
As I stared at the center line and thought of all the things I had yet to do in the world, all the lives left to save, I thought about how irresponsible he was and how someday his son would thank me for what I’d done, even though he’d never know it was me. You can do a lot of good in this world, if you don’t care who gets the credit. I wondered if the boy and I would ever be in the same place, like serendipity, if our paths would ever cross again. I pictured myself in Paris, maybe London, or some small, middle of nowhere town. Maybe I’d go out for a stroll, and we’d pass on the street. I’d look at him and nod hello. Such a simple gesture, and yet, it would mean so much more than either of us will ever know.
Chapter Twenty-Five
First it was the headline in the paper about the hit and run. Then things started to hit close to home. Too close to home. They’d found Jon Monroe’s truck out off County Road 249. I hadn’t known that was his name, had I? It’s funny how you can memorize a person’s face, but not their name. Innumerable details there are to sort out in life.
The story goes that Jon Monroe went out one night for a drink and never came home. It’s a familiar tale, and one that wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for him.
Had it not been for the truck, no one would have thought much of it. I’ve known a bender a time or two myself. I certainly wouldn’t have questioned his absence.
If it hadn’t been for all of the blood splattered along the pavement, the police might not have even taken a second look. Men like Monroe don’t often make headlines for turning up missing. His photo will not draw the kind of attention that causes command centers to be erected or volunteers to rally. Not many folks around here will be eager to form search parties or to spend their time putting up flyers. Men like Jon Monroe are rarely missed.
But aside from the blood, it was the rest of the story that drew people’s attention. The lack of a body. Limbs and other body parts had been strewn about, spanning a range of more than a mile and a half. A hand here, and a foot there, the rest of him nowhere to be found. It makes for a rather peculiar situation, the kind that gets people talking. Had the rest of his body been trapped and drug under a vehicle, and if so, where had it ended up?
I didn’t think much of it, other than what would become of the boy and his mother. Not even when I tuned into the news and saw the clip about the hit-and-run in Austin did it occur to me that something was off. I hadn’t considered that the two crimes might be related. I’m a writer. I’m proficient at seeing connections, and also in making them up where there aren’t any, which means I have to be careful. Plus, I had other things on my mind.
Still, I told myself I’d look at the tracker, just to see. Liam had come in late a few nights before, hadn’t he? And there was the dent in his car.
He certainly had motive to kill the boy’s father, considering that Monroe had peppered his car with bullet holes. I’d seen the look in his eyes, the contained but eerie manner in which he’d restrained himself afterward.
Although it wasn’t that which told me for sure he was involved. It wasn’t until I saw the girl on TV pleading with the public for someone to come forward in her fiancé’s death that I understood what I was up against. It wasn’t until she showed up at my doorstep, devastated, looking for Liam, that I knew with certainty; this situation is much more than I bargained for, and I am in deep, deep shit.
Chapter Twenty-Six
I have my attorney contact the sheriff’s office about the missing kid from the school. He has told me what I already know: unless they can prove that I’m somehow involved with his disappearance, at most all they can do is continue to harass me with questions, all of which should be directed at him. He reminded me that teenagers run away all the time. The conversation makes me think of Jenny and ruins the entire day.
Even though I may have an idea about who might be at fault, what I don’t have is proof or a motive, so I leave that part out of the discussion. What reason would Liam have to kidnap a kid, just because he made an off-colored comment? Particularly one that wasn’t even directed at him.
If I really wanted to set the world spinning, I could mention Bobby Simmons, the guy who was run down in Austin, and the fact that Liam may have had good reason to kill both Monroe and his lover’s fiancé. But what good would it do me?
I have a novel to finish, and seeing that Liam is doing more than half the work, I need him. And, also, I really don’t have concrete evidence.
