“Can you find where you buried him?”
I swallowed, nauseated from the memories. “Yeah.”
He was silent for a moment. “How far away from the house did you bury him?”
“I don’t know. Maybe a couple of miles.”
“And how obvious are the azalea bushes? They’re not blooming now. It would be harder to find them.”
“I know where they are.”
“But could Beasley find them? He was in prison before, but what if Branson’s making him look now? Could they stumble upon it? Was there any other landmark Beasley would recognize?”
“There was a light pole about ten feet away. Somebody had nailed in a bunch of silver nails to make it look like a cross.”
“Can you see it from the main road?”
“No.”
“But if they started driving around, they could find it?”
“Yeah. If that cross is still there. And if Beasley remembers it. He mentioned it while we were digging, telling me that God was watching and judging him for letting his brother get away with everything he did.”
Jed was silent for a moment. “Let’s assume he remembers the cross, which means, given time, he’ll find it and dig up the body. What’s he going to find?”
“The body and a video camera.”
“Clothes? Was the man dressed?”
I cringed. “No.”
“Did you bury everything he had with him?”
“I think so. We got all of his clothes and the camera, his shoes, and his bag and buried it all together.”
“Were his clothes in the bag?”
“His clothes and shoes were separate. Beasley stuffed everything else—including the camera—into the bag.”
“Was there a tripod for the camera?”
I nodded. “It was Branson’s, but the camera belonged to the guy.”
Jed was quiet for a moment. “Branson doesn’t want the video, Neely Kate. He’ll want it too if it’s still there, but that’s not why he wants to dig up the body. He’s after whatever’s in that bag.”
“Yeah . . . maybe.”
“No maybe about it.” He was quiet again. “I’m tempted to leave it and let sleepin’ dogs lie, but I think Branson will dig it up.” He glanced at me again. “What will he find that ties you to his death? The video? What about the murder weapon? What was it? A gun? Did you leave blood evidence in the house?”
“There wasn’t any blood.” Then I added, “Not his.”
“How much of yours?” When I didn’t answer, he asked, “Enough to look like a crime scene?”
I still didn’t answer.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” He was quiet for a good ten seconds before he said, “Then you killed him in self-defense.”
“No,” I said, surprised by how detached I felt. “I could have tried to run . . . but I didn’t. I stayed and killed him.”
“What do you mean you could have run? When Beasley showed up?”
I stared out the window at the passing landscape. Strangely enough, Jed was driving in the right direction. “When you get to that road up at the intersection, turn right.”
“Neely Kate, what am I going to find on that tape?”
I gasped. “You can’t watch the tape! Swear to me you won’t watch it!”
His face hardened. “I can’t promise you that.”
I shrank back in horror. “Why?”
“Because that’s the only way I’ll know how to protect you. I need to know what really happened.”
“No!”
“Then tell me.” He slowed down and turned.
We were getting closer to where we’d buried the guy, but I was panicked by the thought of Jed seeing what I’d done.
He grabbed my hand, and his voice was softer when he said, “It’s okay, NK. I’m gonna fix this. It’s what I do, remember? I’m really good at it, so you have to trust me, okay?”
“You can’t watch that video, Jed,” I said, feeling defeated. Jed was helping me, but at what cost? No matter what he thought now, if he saw that video from beginning to end, he’d never see me the same way again.
He was quiet for so long I was sure he wasn’t going to answer, but he finally said, “Okay, I won’t look at it, but you have to tell me what happened.”
I swallowed, feeling like I was going to throw up. “After Branson left me, my fears were confirmed. It was bad, really bad, and that’s all I want to say about that.”
And reason number one for why Jed couldn’t see that video.
He didn’t answer, so I continued, “I was kind of out of it, and—”
“Due to drugs or injury?” He was using his work face, the detached-from-the-situation one, and somehow that made it easier to tell him.
“He’d hit me too hard at some point, but I was lying there thinking I didn’t want to die like this and be forgotten. I didn’t want to disappear without anyone noticing, so I knew I had to fight back. He was bigger than me, but all of a sudden, I was filled with so much anger. At him, and at Branson, and at my momma and all the men in her life, and all I could think to do was lash out at the worst of them all. He had his back turned to me. I’m sure he didn’t see me as a threat. He’d just proven he could do whatever he wanted to me and there was nothing I could do about it. My hands were tied to a rope that had a few feet of slack, so I jumped on his back and looped the rope around his neck and pulled tight.”
“You strangled him.”
“It wasn’t easy. He was a big powerful guy, and he kept trying to throw me off, but I held on because I knew if I let go, I’d be as good as dead.”
“What happened then?”
“He stood at one point and tried to slam me into a wall to get me off. I hit my head—hard enough that I let go—but the ropes were tied to my wrists, so I was dangling from his neck. The next thing I knew, he fell with me underneath him. I was still attached to him with that rope. I probably lay there like that for a good five or ten minutes, maybe longer since I kept drifting in and out of consciousness, but then I knew I had to get up or I’d die there too. I finally figured out how to push him up and get unattached. As soon as I did, I found something to cut through the rope. I was looking for a phone to call the police when Beasley showed up.”
“Does Beasley know how you killed him?”
“He didn’t ask, and I never offered any explanation, but there was a rope burn around his neck. I figured the whole situation explained itself. But I know it wasn’t completely self-defense. I could have whacked him over the head and knocked him out. Besides, he obviously had money. I know how it works. I’d be facing jail time no matter who was at fault.”
“Where was your blood?”
“On the sheets.”
“And where are those?”
“Buried with him.”
“Did it get on the mattress?”
“No,” I said, feeling sick again. “Branson had one of those waterproof pads on there to protect it.”
He took a moment before he said, “We have to get that video and those sheets and anything else with your blood on it. What about the form you signed? Is that with him too?”
“Yeah. But what if Branson’s following us now?” I looked behind us but didn’t see any cars. “What if he shows up?”
“He’s not. I’ve been watching. And if he shows up, then he’ll get more than he bargained for. Now tell me where to go next.”
He pulled out his vibrating phone again, and this time he frowned as he tucked it back into his pocket. Part of me wanted to ask what it was all about, but I couldn’t handle courting more trouble.
It took us fifteen minutes to get to the side road I remembered from that dark, dismal night. Then I had him drive slowly until I recognized the light pole. Jed pulled onto a small drive about fifty feet down the road, so as to look less suspicious, no doubt, and then he popped the trunk. He quickly swapped his shoes for work boots, put on a pair of work gloves, and grabbed one of the shovels and a bag out of the trunk.
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br /> When he started to close it, I said, “I’m helping dig, Jed.”
He gave me a stern look, his hand on the still-open lid. “Like hell you are.”
“This is my problem.”
“Your problem is my problem now too, Neely Kate. The sooner you accept that, the better.”
I barely took a moment to absorb what he’d said.
“Jed,” I said quietly. “I need to do this.” I didn’t know why, and I sure didn’t know how to explain it, but my gut told me that I needed to be a participant in this, not just stand back and let it happen.
He watched me for a moment before grabbing the other shovel and handing it to me. “You can help until we find the body. Then I’m taking over.”
No problem there. I wasn’t sure I could handle digging around the body. “Okay.”
We walked down the side of the road until I saw the bushes, which were harder to recognize since it was dark and they weren’t flowering. Jed didn’t have a problem walking through the undergrowth with his jeans and boots, but I was still wearing my dress and sandals. When those azaleas had tumbled onto my desk, it had occurred to me that I might have to dig up the body. But it had seemed like a worst-case scenario. I’d hoped to show up in Ardmore and find out everything was okay. So even if Jed had agreed to drive back to the motel to change, I had brought nothing to change into.
The moon was mostly full and overhead, which helped light the road, but Jed turned on a flashlight and shone it around the ground behind the bushes, which were cast in deep shadows. “What do you think?”
I studied the ground and shuddered. “There,” I said, pointing. “I think he’s right there, but everything looks different, so I can’t be sure.”
He turned off his flashlight and tossed his bag to the ground. “That’s okay. Did you bury him to one side or in the middle?”
“The middle.”
“How big was the hole?”
“About three or four feet. We didn’t lay him flat.”
“Stand by my bag, and I’ll tell you when you can help. Our goal is to leave the site as undisturbed as possible.”
I watched as he shoveled a huge clump of weeds up and set it to the side, working until he’d cleared about a six-by-three-foot space. Then he started tossing piles of dirt and clay under the azalea bushes.
“Okay,” he said, “you can help, but put the dirt into a pile under the bushes if you can. We want to make it as hard as possible to find this site.”
“Okay.”
Jed was much faster and more efficient. He moved several huge shovelfuls of dirt to my measly amount, but he never suggested I was in the way or that I should let him do it.
“You’re pretty good at this diggin’ thing,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m kind of scared to ask how you got so good at it, but if you’re ever lookin’ for a job, Bruce Wayne’s always looking for help with the landscaping business.”
He looked up at me with a grin. “I’ll be sure to put in my résumé.”
About ten minutes in, Jed was now standing in a two-foot-by-four-foot trench.
I stood on the side so I wouldn’t get in his way. Watching him work, I couldn’t help but think that he was almost too good at this. His naked chest had looked like some kind of sculpture this morning, and that upper body strength probably helped, but even so . . .
He looked up at me. “My grandparents’ farm.”
“What?”
“I know where your mind’s going, but I got plenty of experience diggin’ posts and ditches at my grandparents’ farm.”
I couldn’t help but grin at that.
About five minutes later, he stopped and looked up. “I think I found something.”
I’d done a good job of telling myself we were just digging a hole up to this point, but now I was about to come face-to-face with the man I had murdered. Any way I looked at it, this was bound to be bad.
I stood to the side, telling myself I couldn’t vomit, even though a stench had begun to fill the air.
Jed pointed to his bag. “There are a couple of masks in there. It won’t help entirely, but it’ll help some, not to mention it’ll help protect us from the bacteria and shit we’re diggin’ up.”
I turned on the flashlight and searched through his bag until I found a bunch of painter’s masks. I handed one to Jed and put the other on myself.
“I need the flashlight now,” he said. “You can hold it or I can prop it up, but I need to be more careful about where I’m digging.” I appreciated that he wasn’t babying me. He was treating this as a job that needed to be done—no more, no less—because he knew that was what I needed from him.
“I’ll hold it.” It was the least I could do. I’d insisted on helping, but now every part of me was shouting run. But I was tired of running from this. I wanted it settled and left in the past for good.
I held up the flashlight and watched as Jed became more careful with his digging. Pretty soon, I saw what looked like the dirty bed sheet.
“Did you wrap him up in the sheet?”
“Yeah.”
He nodded and kept digging until he had more of the sheet uncovered. “Where did you bury the bag?”
“At his feet.”
“Which direction?”
“That way.” I pointed to my right.
We heard a car engine in the distance, and Jed grabbed the flashlight and turned it off. “Get down.”
We waited for thirty seconds before the sound faded into the distance.
“Sound travels out here,” I said.
He nodded, then switched the flashlight back on and handed it to me. “It works in our favor and makes it harder for anyone to sneak up on us.”
He resumed digging, to my right this time, and a few minutes later he discovered the edge of the bag. He was less gentle with it, prying it loose in less than a minute.
I started to hyperventilate.
His gaze turned toward me. “Neely Kate. Why don’t you go wait in the car?”
I shook my head.
“You helped me find him,” he said. “There’s absolutely no reason for you to relive this. Let me handle it.”
“I can’t.”
He studied me for a second. “Okay. Why don’t you stand by my bag and watch the road for me?”
It was a bogus job, and we both knew it. But I wouldn’t be helping either of us if I passed out beside the body.
I turned my back to him, and several seconds later he said, “I was right about Branson wanting the bag. There’s probably ten thousand dollars in here. I wonder if he was making a drug deal too.”
I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. “Because I couldn’t be worth ten grand.”
“Neely Kate.”
I shook my head. “Just get this over with.”
He tossed the bag behind me, then kept digging.
“Was the camera in there?” I asked, my voice shaking.
“Yes.”
“His clothes should have been underneath it.”
“I think I’ve just found them.” After a few more shovelfuls of dirt, he stopped and squatted, then tossed a couple of pieces of fabric onto the ground behind me.
I glanced over my shoulder as he took off his gloves and reached his hand into a mass of fabric, removing a leather wallet. He flipped it open.
“Pearce Manchester. Sound familiar?” he asked.
I shuddered. Now I had a name to accompany the face in my nightmares. “No.”
“I’ve heard of him. He was a Dallas businessman who went missing about five years ago. No one knew what happened to him, but his oil-rich family put up a reward. Branson may be after that too.”
“Wouldn’t he implicate himself?”
“Not necessarily. He probably figured he could make some bogus claim that he stumbled upon the body.”
“And me?”
“Have you ever been arrested?”
“Once. For shoplifting. Not long after I got here. I pled guilty and got off with co
mmunity service.”
“Then they have your prints, but probably not your DNA. Still, I’m not leaving any evidence behind to tie you to the crime. He must have scratched you while you were strangling him, which means your DNA is under his fingernails and possibly on what’s left of the lower part of him.” He paused. “We have two options. We burn his body and destroy any DNA evidence, or we move his body so Branson never finds it.”
“Where would you move it to?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Which option do you prefer?”
He hesitated. “I want to move it. But I’m not sure how you’ll handle that.”
“I want this done. I never want it to haunt me again.”
“Then we’ll move it, but I’ll need your help getting him out.”
I swallowed, feeling ill. “Okay.”
He climbed out of the hole and grabbed a tarp out of his bag. After laying it out on the ground beside the hole, he started to climb back in. He stopped to look back at me, though, and pulled down his mask. “How are you doing?”
“You’re the one doin’ all the work,” I countered.
Sympathy filled his eyes. “Neely Kate.”
I felt myself start to crumble, but I pulled it all back in and took a deep breath. “Just tell me what to do to make this go faster.”
“Okay.”
He soon had the body free, and he slid the tarp down into the hole and rolled the body on top of it before wrapping it up.
“This is when I need your help,” he said.
I sucked in a breath, still smelling the lingering rancid stench through my mask. “Okay.”
I climbed down into the hole, and we rolled the body up the incline and out onto the ground.
“I’m going to get the car and load the body and the bag into the trunk. If someone shows up and finds the hole, it’s not ideal, but we’ll make good and sure there’s nothing tying it to you.”
“I trust you, Jed.”
“Are you okay waiting here?”
The answer was a solid no. But it was stupid for both of us to go get the car. “Yeah.”
Jed took off and I waited for several seconds before curiosity got the best of me. I looked in Pearce Manchester’s bag and found the video camera. I popped open the view finder and turned on the power switch, surprised when it actually worked. I rewound the tape and turned it on, steeling myself for what I’d find.
Trailer Trash (Neely Kate Mystery Book 1) Page 19