by W.H. Harrod
All those long anguished-filled months, Howard dreamed of seeing the sight before him. The lifeless corpse of Richard Whiting—the single person in the whole world he hated more than anyone else—lay there on the plush white carpet of the party room floor, located in the walkout basement of his mansion. He felt no pity for the almost unrecognizable pile of flesh that seemed to be floating in the pool of blood surrounding the body. The face no longer resembled anything human. Identification would have to depend upon fingerprints or possibly, the remnants of the few teeth remaining in the now protruding lower jaw. No matter who came into this room after Howard left, they faced a difficult task in trying to identify Richard Whiting.
He realized that he still held his gun tightly in his right hand. No longer needed, he placed it in the side pocket of his windbreaker and returned his gaze back to the lifeless body on the floor in front of him. The magnitude of the moment finally struck Howard. Only a short time before, Richard Whiting represented a force to be reckoned with in this community, in the lives of hundreds of employees, and in the dreams of all those ambitious people constantly seeking his attention. People envied him, admired him, resented him, feared him, and some hated him—at least one with a passion. Now, he represented nothing but another statistic in the form of a faceless, bloody pile of lifeless human flesh. And even that exceeded what Howard believed the man deserved.
A more relevant thought penetrated his consciousness. He needed to move quickly. He couldn’t stand there relishing the sight before him forever. Many things needed to be done. People would be looking for him soon.
He turned and walked back towards the still open patio doors through which he entered only a short time before, exited the mansion, and disappeared into the darkness. His escape route took him towards the rear of the property, past the barns that were a full eighth mile from the main house, where he’d earlier parked his car. From there, a private farm road led from the barns to a locked gate exiting onto a secondary road running along the rear of the estate. Richard earlier gave him a key for reasons completely unrelated to what Howard had in mind when he came through it a short time ago.
As expected, Howard found no one else around. Richard tired of the livestock ownership part of being a country gentleman long ago. He didn’t like animals, so he saw no reason to foot the cost of maintaining horses and their keepers on the estate. Howard always thought it something of a waste to let all this good land sit idle, producing nothing. He remembered the time when both he and Whitney dreamed of living in a place like this and having all kinds of animals around. But, like the lifeless corpse back there on the floor, that dream no longer mattered. It died long ago with Whitney.
Howard started his car and began to drive down the gravel road towards the back gate when something occurred to him. All the planning over the last months would now be put to the test. How well had he planned? Had he covered all the bases? He would find out soon enough. Stopping short of the locked gate, Howard exited the car, again unlocked the gate, opened it, returned to the car, drove the car through the gate, got back out and closed the gate without locking it, tossed the key into the bushes on the far side of the road, got back in the car, turned on the head lights, and drove away.
Be patient now—don’t hurry. Only one more stop to make and you’ll be on your way. Howard tried hard to restrain his fear of being discovered.
He looked down at the gaudy watch on his wrist and saw it was after 11 p.m. There existed little likelihood of meeting up with anyone on this road at this hour. He soon approached an old single-lane bridge spanning a wide deep creek that ran close to the outskirts of the community and brought the car to a halt in the middle of the bridge. He turned off the lights, got out of the car, and walked over to the rail, and without hesitation, took the gun out of his pocket and threw it far out and away from the bridge into the middle of the muddy stream. Then he took the trophy Rolex watch that Richard presented to him right after Howard finished graduate school and threw that into the river as well. As he got back into the car to continue his journey, he reminded himself that much more must to be jettisoned from his life before the evening ended.
Driving deeper into the countryside near the outskirts of the city, Howard approached a lonely intersection where the secondary highway crossed a gravel road. He turned onto the gravel road and proceeded another two miles before turning into a barely visible entrance way guarded by a metal gate. No other farm buildings or residences were within a mile of this place. That’s why Howard leased the property—which included a large metal barn—right after he commenced his plan to kill Richard. He exited the car to unlock the gate. Then, he got back in the car and drove another two hundred yards up the rutted road to the metal building.
After he exited his car one more time to unlock the large metal door to allow him access to the barn, Howard pulled his car inside, alongside a 1979 Chevrolet sedan purchased six weeks earlier and stored here for this very occasion. With the engine turned off, he sat in the car thinking about his life in the community he now planned to leave forever. He thought about the wonderful days and nights he and Whitney shared before she went away and the horrible life he experienced there afterwards. From now on, he would only think of this town during the good times, when Whitney’s presence made it a wonderful place to be.
“Best get started,” he told himself as he opened the car door and exited the car leaving the keys in the ignition. He stood beside the car in the dark metal barn to say one last goodbye to the community and the life that at one time held so much promise of happiness for him and Whitney. Then, clutching only an old photo of them together, he got into the get-away car, drove out the big open door, down the road through the open gate, turned onto the gravel road, and drove away into the night, closing forever this painful chapter of his life.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE