Roadkill

by Cheryl Bradshaw

  “What ... in ... the ... hell ... who ... are ... you ... BASTARD!”

  “Well, hey now, not bad. Way to use your words. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Adam, and you’re probably wondering what I’m doing here and why I shot your naked friend here before you got your rocks off. Am I right?”

  Mr. VanHorn glared at Adam.

  “I’m going to need you to participate in this conversation, okay?” Adam said. “If not, I mean, I’ll have to finish you off right now, and I’m sure you’d at least like to know why I’m here first. I know I would, if roles were reversed.”

  “Do I know you?”

  “Good. We’re talking. No, you do not know me. But your wife does.”

  “My ... wife? Where is she? Is she all right?”

  “You don’t need to worry about her. She’s having a wonderful time at spin class today thinking of all the money she’ll be spending once she takes control of the casino, and your money.”

  “You’re lying. What have you done with her?!”

  “She’s the last one you need to worry about right—”

  A sound outside the room distracted Adam from the fun game they had been playing. He didn’t like distractions. He didn’t like to be interrupted, either. The VanHorn’s had no children, and Adam had been assured no one ever stopped by at this hour. Still, someone or something was there in the hallway. In order to find out, he’d have to leave Mr. VanHorn hanging, and that wasn’t possible. He backed against the wall, giving him a full view of VanHorn and the door, and then he raised the gun at the man’s head and whispered, “Hate to cut this short ... but it seems I have to go.”

  Mrs. VanHorn entered the room and winked at Adam. “No, you don’t. You’re fine right where you are.”

  Adam couldn’t believe what he was seeing. It was against the customer agreement for a client to have any involvement in the process until it was over. And yet, here she was, unfazed, smiling like a child at Christmas.

  “Ma’am, this is highly ... I mean ... we talked about this,” Adam said. “You can’t be here.”

  She swished a lock of her long, blond hair out of her face and batted her large blue eyes at him. “Of course I can. This is my house.”

  “And this is my job, the one you hired me for.”

  She ignored the comment and glanced at the bed. “One down, and one to go. Oh, and hello Timothy.”

  “Julie,” Mr. VanHorn said. “Honey, what is this? What have you done?”

  “Oh, you know exactly what this is, honey, but since you asked, shall I explain it to you?”

  Realizing he was still on his knees, naked, he reached for the sheet. In the process of yanking it toward him, the neighbor’s body shifted, flicking some of the blood seeping from her head onto his arm. He wiped it off with the speed of a germophobe in a homeless shelter’s bathroom and began sobbing.

  “I know you’ve been shtupping Clara for some time now,” Mrs. VanHorn said. “Did you really think you’d get away with it? Did you think I wouldn’t notice her stinky perfume on the bed sheets or the way she lingered too long in the front yard when you went out to get the morning paper? She’s fifteen years older than I am, and let’s face it—she could stand to lose a few pounds. I mean, give me a break. Look at how hard I work on this body, at everything I’ve done for you. And I’m still not enough.”

  To be fair, fifteen years older made the cousin the same age as Mr. VanHorn and more age appropriate than his younger wife. Adam wasn’t judging, but he was worrying.

  “Mrs. VanHorn,” Adam said.

  “It’s Julie,” she said.

  “All, right, Julie. I have a job to do.”

  “I was just hoping I could ... you know ...” She held a hand out. “May I?”

  As titillating as the thought was to hand her the gun and watch her shoot her husband, he couldn’t allow it. He shook his head.

  “Ahh, well,” she said. “It was worth a try. Quick and painless, please, though he doesn’t deserve it.”

  Adam tried to refocus. It wasn’t easy. At this point, the job needed to be wrapped up. Fast. He aimed and fired a single shot—the same way he’d killed the mistress. Mr. VanHorn’s body slumped over Clara’s, and it was all over. Adam texted the cleaner, letting him know he had a green light to drive over.

  Julie took a step toward the bed.

  “Stop right there,” Adam said. “You could contaminate the scene, and that would incriminate you.”

  “I could just say I came in and they were already dead.”

  “Please,” Adam said. “I need you to do exactly what we discussed. Let’s get out of here.”

  She strolled over to Adam like a confident woman in a bar full of eager men, planted a kiss on his lips, and said, “What can I do to thank you?”

  He backed up. “I’ve been paid. It’s thanks enough.”

  She cupped her hand over his crotch and smiled. “What if I want to leave a tip?”

  Never before had he been so attracted to a woman. And for the first time, he found the idea impossible to resist. He checked the time. He had at least twenty minutes until the cleaner was due to arrive. Maybe it was time to break a few rules himself.

  CHAPTER 28

  I heard a pop, and not just any pop. A distinct sound like the crack of a gun being fired. I wrapped a towel around my body, opened the bathroom door, and poked my head out. The hall was quiet and empty. “Seth, are you there?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Seth, can you hear me? Did you hear that noise?”

  I waited—still no reply.

  The sun was just starting to rise. Since both of us had been unsuccessful at getting any sleep, we’d talked for a while longer, something we hadn’t done alone together in a long time. When the sun came up, I headed to the shower. Seth went to the living room to flip through the news channels. I grabbed a shirt and pants out of Juliette’s drawer and showered. It felt wrong to be dressing in her clothes, unnatural, like I was violating her privacy somehow, even though she wasn’t around to wear them anymore.

  I walked to the living room. The television was still on, but Seth wasn’t there. Earlier he had said something about heating up a couple breakfast burritos before we left, so I checked the kitchen. He wasn’t there, either. I went from room to room looking for him before it occurred to me he might have left without me, deciding to drive to the jeweler’s on his own. I didn’t think he would. Still, I looked outside. His car was in the driveway.

  So where was he?

  Concern building, I sprinted back to Nora’s room and grabbed my gun, figuring there was a logical explanation for his disappearance, but until I knew what it was, it felt better to have the weapon. When I passed by the kitchen again I paused, noticing an elongated shadow lurking outside next to the fence. It could have been a tree, except it wasn’t.

  The shadow was moving.

  I raised my gun in one hand while quietly sliding the back door open with the other. I took a step outside and heard my name being called. I turned and lowered the gun, exhaling a sigh of relief.

  “Seth? I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  He glanced at my hand. “Why are you carrying that thing around?”

  “I thought I heard a gunshot. I went through the house calling you. Didn’t you hear me?”

  “I didn’t. Sorry.”

  I walked over and stood next to him. “What are you doing out here?”

  “The noise you heard—I heard it too. I think it came from Jonas’s house. I’m not sure, though.”

  “What did it sound like to you?”

  “Like someone was popping a bottle of champagne.”

  “I heard it once. You?”

  “Twice. One a couple minutes after the other.”

  I wanted to believe the sound came from an innocent bottle of champagne, but if Seth had heard it twice, there had to be another explanation.

  “I better walk over and see if he’s all right,” Seth said.

  “Good idea
. I should come with you.”

  He looked at my wet hair and shook his head. “The jewelry place opens in less than an hour, so why don’t you keep getting ready? I’ll be fine. I’m sure it’s nothing. Jonas is the toughest guy I know.”

  I walked back inside the house and combed through my hair. I didn’t feel right about Seth walking over to Jonas’s house alone. I slipped my sandals on and headed for the front door. From outside the house, Seth’s booming voice shouted my name, followed by a string of words I couldn’t make out. I swung the door open. Seth stood in front of me, his pants stained red.

  I stared at him, in shock. “What happened? Are you bleeding?”

  He looked down. “I’m ... yes ... but it’s not mine. It’s not my blood.”

  “Whose is it? Jonas’s?”

  Seth nodded.

  “What happened?” I asked. “Where is he now?”

  Seth reached for my hand, yanking me onto the porch. “You need to come with me, Raine. Right now.”

  CHAPTER 29

  Jonas’s body was sprawled out on the living-room floor, face up, his eyes closed. Blood soiled the area around him. I scanned his body, noticing two entry wounds—one in the head and one in his chest. A Glock rested on the floor about six inches from Jonas’s right hand. I knelt down and checked his pulse, even though I knew it wouldn’t matter. He definitely wasn’t breathing, and I’d seen enough dead people in my day to know he wasn’t alive. His skin was warm to the touch, which led me to believe the sounds we’d heard moments ago had indeed been gunshots.

  Seth sank into Jonas’s couch, his head in his hands, rocking back and forth. “I don’t understand. What is going on? First my wife, and then my daughter goes missing, and now this. Why? Why is this happening?”

  “Seth, did you call 9-1-1 before you came to get me?”

  He breathed fast and heavy, mumbling something I didn’t understand.

  “Seth! You’ll pass out if you don’t slow down. Take a few breaths and listen to me, okay? Did you call for an ambulance or for the police?”

  “I, umm, I didn’t have my phone. I mean, I don’t have it on me. It’s at the house. I could go back over and get it.”

  “You stay put. I’ll take care of it.”

  I pulled my phone from my back pocket, dialed 9-1-1, gave the address, and explained we’d found a dead body. The operator asked me to stay on the line with her, but I hung up anyway. She had the address and a name, which was all she needed. Time was a precious commodity, and at present, I didn’t have much of it.

  I canvassed the room, my eyes flashing from object to object, looking for anything to explain who had been here, what had happened, and why. The most straightforward cause of death would be suicide. At least it was made to look like a suicide. But after meeting Jonas the night before, he didn’t seem like the type. Too arrogant. And when men decided to end their life, they were usually quick and efficient. It wouldn’t have made sense for him to shoot himself in two different places when a single bullet to the head could have done the job. And I found it odd he would off himself after suggesting my sister had done the same thing only a day before. The chest wound was too far to the right to do any permanent damage. The one to the head was the one that did him in, killing him instantly.

  I walked around the room. A piece of paper folded in half rested on a desk by the entryway. How convenient. Written in pen on the outside were the letters LVMPD. I pulled the sleeve of my shirt over my hand to avoid getting any prints on the note, inserted the sleeve between the fold, and pushed the paper open. My suspicions were right. It appeared to be a suicide note, typed in three paragraphs:

  For the last three years, I’ve been having an affair with Juliette Granger. Two days ago, she ended the relationship. She said she was leaving her husband and was also leaving me. I woke up yesterday morning, saw her pulling out of the driveway, and knew she was gone for good, so I went after her. I found her driving between Las Vegas and St. George. I tried to get her to pull over so I could talk her into coming back. She wouldn’t put her window down, and when my car got too close to hers, she lost control, and went over the edge.

  It was an accident. I never meant for her to die. I pulled over at the next exit and hiked down to the car. It was then I realized Nora was in the car as well. It looked like she was still breathing. I shattered the window in the back seat and pulled her out. A few minutes later, she died in my arms. I buried her—something I felt I had to do. I couldn’t bear the thought of Seth seeing what happened to his daughter.

  I can’t live with the guilt of what I’ve done. To Seth and my wife Anna, I’m sorry. I truly am. I didn’t mean for it to end this way. I hope one day you’ll both be able to forgive me.

  —Jonas

  I turned toward Seth. He was still on the couch, mourning his dead friend—a friend who was about to become his worst enemy. I thought about how I wanted to handle the note I’d just read and struggled to find the words to say. If I could shield him from ever reading it, I would. But the police would be here soon. Better he read it alone with me than with them.

  I sat next to him on the couch. “Jonas left a note. You better read it.”

  “What does it say?”

  Attempting to be a pillar for both of us, I choked back the tears. “It’s not good, Seth. I’m sorry. And it’s not going to be easy for you to read, but trust me, you need to do it before the police arrive.”

  I held the note out in front of him, and he stared down at the paper, his face a mixture of pain and horror as he made his way down the page. When he finished, he sat for a moment, having a delayed reaction I knew wouldn’t last long.

  And it didn’t.

  “No. No! No! No! No! No! This doesn’t make any sense. Jonas was my friend. One of my closest friends. He wouldn’t do this. He wouldn’t hurt me. He wouldn’t hurt my family. He wouldn’t cheat with my wife. I would have known if something was going on between the two of them. There’s no way this is true. No damn way!”

  Seth grabbed a lamp off a side table, hurling it against the wall. The porcelain base shattered, sending jagged fragments in all directions. The cops wouldn’t be pleased, but I wasn’t about to rob him of his anger.

  An ambulance and a squad car pulled into Jonas’s driveway. Keeping my promise, I made another quick call while I still had the chance. “Detective Ford? This is Raine Hart. My sister’s neighbor wrote a confession to her murder and Nora’s murder and then shot himself—twice. He’d dead. An ambulance just arrived as well as the LVMPD, and since you’re investigating what happened with my sister, you better get down here.”

  CHAPTER 30

  Two hours later, I walked to Seth’s kitchen table, handing one cup of coffee to Ford and another to Seth. Seth wasn’t talking, which didn’t surprise me. Over the last couple of hours, he’d only said the bare minimum, answering police questions before disappearing back to his house as soon as they said he was free to go—for now.

  I sat across from Seth. His eyes had a glazed look, like even though he was right in front of me, he was somewhere else. It was the same look he’d had at the police station the day before, and I didn’t blame him. I’d managed to keep my own tears from showering down, but it wouldn’t last, not for long.

  Ford thanked me for the coffee, took a hearty swig, and set the mug down. “I know you’re not in the mood to talk right now, Mr. Granger, but if you could answer a few questions for me before I leave, I’d appreciate it.”

  Seth circled his hands around his cup of coffee, staring into it like he wished he could dive in and drown himself. “I don’t have any answers. I don’t know the answer to anything anymore. Two days ago, I had a wife I thought I knew and a friend I thought I could count on. Today, they’re strangers to me. I’m a chump. A blind idiot. Probably always have been.”

  “You’re being too hard on yourself. What they did isn’t your fault, and this note doesn’t prove anything yet. Maybe he wrote it. Maybe he didn’t.”

  Seth slid th
e coffee cup to the side. “Don’t you get it? I no longer care.”

  A tear splashed down Seth’s cheek. He wiped it away. I exchanged glances with Ford. His face expressed genuine concern.

  “I’m doing everything I can to piece this all together,” Ford said. “And I won’t stop until we have all the answers.”

  Seth shook his head. “Yeah you will, because it’s over now. It doesn’t matter what evidence you collect or how long it takes to process. You have a signed confession. Jonas killed my wife and my child. There’s nothing left to do except find out what he did with my daughter.”

  Ford put a hand on Seth’s shoulder. “I understand you’re grieving, but don’t presume this is the end of the investigation. Think about it. We have a Glock with serial numbers scratched out. And then there’s the note. He admitted to burying Nora, but he never says where he did it. Maybe he didn’t want you to see her, but since he confessed to everything else, why not tell the police where she’s located at least? Why not give you closure? It doesn’t seem right. It’s not sparing you from anything. It’s insensitive.”

  Seth pushed his chair back and stood. “I need a break from all this. I can’t talk about it anymore. I can’t answer your questions or anyone else’s questions. I’m done. Drop it already.”

  He turned, walking out of the room.

  “Where are you going?” I asked.

  “For a drive. I can’t be here.”

  “Seth, wait,” I said. “Don’t leave. You’re not thinking clearly. Ford is right. We don’t have all the facts yet. Nothing has been proven. We don’t know if what Jonas supposedly wrote is true. What if it’s not? What if Nora is still alive? I’m not willing to give up until I know for sure.”

  Seth turned toward me. “You know what I think? I think Juliette left me because she couldn’t look me in the eye. She couldn’t look right at me and tell me what she’d done. She couldn’t admit it to Jonas’s wife, either. She lied to me, and she lied to you. She’s a coward, Raine. She took the coward’s way out, and then she died for it.”