Cold Blood Read Free Page B

on the road. He pulled off the gloves. Checked the road one last time with his flashlight. He’d almost left her shoes. He picked them up and tucked them inside the tarp with the body.
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    HE didn’t sleep at all Friday night. The Adderall did that. He gassed up the truck at a station off Interstate 35. Used the bathroom to wash his hands, wash the wire cutter, check his clothes. Grabbed a Coke. Paid for it and the gas. The tired clerk hardly gave him a look when she rung him up. He stepped outside and walked around the truck. He didn’t see any blood or cloth on the tires. Noticed a sub shop next door to the gas station. He wasn’t hungry. The Adderall did that, too. He leaned against the side of his truck, unscrewed the cap off the Coke and took a long drink. He had the driver’s window opened a crack; a Judas Priest CD was pounding inside the car. Every once in a while he patted his jacket pocket to make sure her finger was still there, wrapped in plastic.

TWO
    HE WANTED TO hear what people were saying about the prom queen. Did they assume she was dead? Kidnapped? He decided to spend Saturday morning making sales calls in town. He wouldn’t be an unusual figure; he’d called on most of the shops before. He walked into a clothing store with a box of individually packaged shirts and asked the clerk if he could see the store owner. The girl went into the back office. Toward the front of the store, two women were picking through a rack of Halloween costumes and talking about the missing woman. He listened while taking the shirts out of the box and stacking them on the counter.
    â€œSpider-Man,” said the fat one, holding up a nylon outfit of red and blue. She checked the price tag. “On sale. Twenty bucks. Size ten. Could fit your youngest.”
    â€œHe was Spider-Man last year,” said the skinny one. She kept shuffling through the rack. “What do you think happened to her?”
    The fat one pulled out a Batman costume, stared at it fora few seconds and put it back. “Sleeping it off somewhere. I heard she got drunk as a skunk at the reception.”
    The skinny one held up a skeleton costume. “This one’s got a rip. Maybe they’ll knock off a couple of bucks.”
    The store owner came out of the office and shook her head. “Sorry. Not unless it’s wool or flannel. Winter’s on the way.”
    He scooped up the shirts and dropped them back in the box. “Thanks anyway.” He slipped out the door and went to the truck.
    By Saturday afternoon, he was congratulating himself. Hauling the body around with him was brilliant. The body would keep. He’d wrapped it in a tarp and it was cold enough outside to prevent it from rotting right away. The topper kept everything dry and out of the open. He wouldn’t bury her until the cops had searched the area. Then he’d put the prom queen someplace they’d already covered. A place they’d never find her.
    Bolstered by the amphetamines, he even had the guts to stop at a diner for coffee. He watched from the restaurant window while a sheriff’s deputy walked down the sidewalk toward the truck. He held his breath and squeezed his coffee cup with both hands. The deputy walked right by without a glance. He exhaled and loosened his grip around the mug. He saw the waitress heading toward him and busied himself with the menu.
    â€œHow about a warm-up?”
    He slid the cup toward her and she filled it. He raised his eyes as far as her name tag. “Thanks, B . . . B . . . Bonnie.”
    After his coffee he got a room in a motel outside of town. Water stains on the ceiling. Matted shag carpet. Sagging bed. Television with free cable that didn’t work. Reminded him of every other motel he had ever stayed at while working sales. His first job was right after high school, peddling wholesale party goods. Plates, cups, napkins, streamers, balloons, piñatas. Great