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I didn’t think she was going to release me, but slowly her fingers unfurled from my wrist, and her hand dropped over the edge of the couch. I felt horrible leaving her, but I had no choice. I’d need to leave her for longer soon, as I couldn’t just abandon Loretta’s body down there. It was one thing no one missing her, but it was another for someone to stumble across the body. I didn’t think there was much chance of anyone finding her down there any time soon, but I didn’t want to take the risk.
Quickly, I went to my office, located the key, and went back to Jolie. I dropped down beside her again and worked the lock. The cuffs popped open, and I yanked them off her wrists and threw them to the other side of the room.
Jolie burst into tears, sobbing noisily against the cushions. Red marks circled where the cuffs had been, and I took her wrists in my hands, rubbing at the sore skin while she cried. There was nothing I could do or say to change what had happened. All I could do now was be there for her while she cried. Tears were cathartic and would help her feel better, and then I hoped she would sleep. She must have been up for a large chunk of the night, hunched up against the bathroom wall while Loretta’s body slowly grew cold. She was probably exhausted.
I stroked her arms then moved to her back until her sobbing became sporadic little hiccups. Finally, her breathing grew deeper and more regular, and I knew she was asleep.
I got to my feet then leaned in and kissed her forehead. “I’m so sorry, Jolie.”
She couldn’t hear me, and I wasn’t sure I would ever say sorry to her during a time when she could hear me. Despite what had happened, nothing had changed. I still fully intended on killing her father, and I still needed her onboard with that. I had promised to break her not so long ago, and right now she seemed broken, but I wasn’t happy about it. I discovered I didn’t want to lose her fire and spark, and I would miss that side of her if she didn’t come back from this.
Leaving Jolie for the moment, I went out to the pool. There was also a storage shed out there which contained all the gardening equipment. I let myself inside. The space was dark and musty, and I picked my way through the selection of items—a lawnmower, old garden furniture, cushions that had been stored away—until I found what I needed. The wheelbarrow was old, but worked perfectly well. I added a large shovel into the barrow, and then took the whole lot outside. Parking it outside of the door, I went back into the house. I popped my head around the living room door to see Jolie in exactly the same spot as I’d left her. I didn’t really expect her to make a run for it, but that warning light flashed in the back of my mind. She’d tricked me once, and while I thought this would be an extreme way to make her escape, I couldn’t put it past her.
I went back down to the basement room. The atmosphere felt different down there, and icy fingers crept across the back of my neck. I shuddered. I wasn’t someone who was easily spooked, but I wasn’t some gangster who dealt with dead bodies every day. I might be considered hard among many, but I didn’t normally get people killed.
Nevertheless, I needed to do this.
I’d brought a heavy garbage bag down with me, together with a set of garden gloves, which I planned on burying with the body. Loretta was short, but she wasn’t lightweight like Jolie. I spread open the bag next to the body, put on the gloves, and got to work. The first stages of rigor mortis had already set in, and I cringed as I forced her arms and legs into the sack. I pushed down my revulsion and kept going, knowing I needed to get it done.
After what felt like forever, I got her into the bag and twisted the top shut. I was thankful Jolie had killed her by strangulation instead of stabbing, so at least there wasn’t a ton of blood to clear up.
I hauled the bag up onto my shoulder, took the elevator up to the ground floor, and then carried the body outside and dumped it into the waiting wheelbarrow. I went inside for a moment to check on Jolie, who was still sleeping, and then made my way back outside.
The recent storm meant the ground was still saturated, which made things easier for me. The sun had dried out the top layer of dirt, but the rest was still soft and damp. I took hold of the handles of the barrow and got moving. I wanted to get into the center of the island, as far away as possible from the house and the encroaching ocean that surrounded us. I considered briefly taking her for an ocean burial, but I knew doing so would play havoc with my imagination. I’d forever think Loretta’s body would end up washed up on shore somewhere, or else that she’d bump up against me while swimming or get caught in the motor of the boat. At least below ground, I knew she would stay put.
By the time I reached my destination, sweat poured down my brow and down my back, and soaked into the armpits of my shirt. It was going to be a hot day, and the hike through the island was hard enough without pushing a wheelbarrow containing a dead body and a shovel. I still had the hard part left to do.
I picked up the shovel and tested the earth a few times until I hit what seemed to be a soft area. Then I got to work, stabbing the shovel into the dirt and digging hard. I needed the hole to be deep enough that she wasn’t going to end up dug up by animals.
I gave up on my shirt, yanking it up and over my head, so I worked bare-chested, in only my jeans. I wasn’t much cooler—the surrounding palm trees protected me from any breeze coming off the ocean—but at least I didn’t have a wet shirt slapping against my skin. I must have been filthy, sweat-smeared dirt across my face and chest, but finally the hole was big enough. I went to the wheelbarrow and wheeled it over to the edge of the hole, and then tipped the body in.
The body fell, hitting the bottom of the hole with a thump.
A pang of remorse went through me. This was just another victim of Patrick Dorman. By killing Loretta’s daughter, he’d made her bitter and twisted enough to want to take that pain out on Jolie. Just as by killing my mother, I’d done the same to Jolie. I’d been convinced all this time that Jolie didn’t deserve to be shown any mercy, and that she had contributed to his actions, but now I was starting to see her as a victim, even though she’d been the one to kill Loretta. But she’d clearly done so in self-defense, and I couldn’t blame her for that, even if she might blame herself.
