Deceit

Melissa followed. After a jouncing mile downhill, Baxter stopped. His car head beams flipped off, replaced with the dull yellow of parking lights.

Melissa turned off the BMW and hit the button to pop the trunk.

She stepped from the car into thick, dank air. Silence hung heavy and deep. Accusing. As if the forest knew.

Six feet off the road, in the dim illumination of the Mercedes’ parking lights, Baxter bent over a bush. “Here.” He pointed. “We’ll dig it up and replant it on top. We have to hurry.”

With enough light from the car, they didn’t need the flashlight. They pulled both shovels from the trunk and went to work.

Melissa didn’t know how long they dug, except that it seemed like forever. Her arms ached, her back and side ached. They uttered not a word, both racing against time. The smell of dirt filled her nostrils, the thunk, swish of their shovels reverberating in the pulsing night. Melissa’s mind drifted somewhere out in space, detached, unfeeling. She would not think about what she’d done, what they were doing. Nothing mattered at the moment but burying Linda and returning home before dawn.

It wasn’t the first time she’d had to put her mind on hold.

The hole grew to a ragged four feet long, the same in depth. Baxter tossed down his shovel. “That’s enough.”

Melissa dropped her shovel and arched her back. She couldn’t have dug much longer.

They hurried to the car and lugged out Linda’s body. Carried it to the makeshift grave.

Melissa hesitated. “We need to take her out of the blanket.”

“No.”

“Yes, Baxter.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“It’ll protect her.”

“Protect her from what? She’s dead.”

Baxter shot Melissa a look so caustic it burned her skin. “I don’t want to leave her here without it.”

Melissa’s arms were about to fall off. She dropped her end of Linda’s body to the ground. “And what if she’s found, huh? You want her wrapped in a blanket from your garage?”

“Who would know?”

“Someone. Your gardener. Your house cleaner. Or maybe they’d find some telltale fibers or hairs on it, who knows? You want to take that chance?”

Baxter shifted on his feet, still holding his half of the body. Slowly he set it down.

The comb seemed to vibrate in Melissa’s pocket.

“Come on, Baxter.” Melissa raised her arms. “We have to take her out. We’ll throw the blanket in some dumpster on the way back.”

For a long moment he stood there, jaw working. In slow motion he bent down over the body.

Silently they unwound Linda. When they were done she lay on her back, her face peaceful, as if she merely slept. Baxter stared at her, fingers flexing.

Melissa squeezed his arm. “I’ll do it.”

Baxter tipped his head toward the heavens. “It’ll be light before we know it.”

He turned away.

Melissa squatted down to roll Linda’s body into the grave. Again she stopped, thinking.

Her head came up. “There should be blood in her car.”

No response.

“Someone will eventually find it, right? We need to make it look like she was killed.”

The police had to be able to conclude Linda was dead. So she and Baxter could get on with their lives.

Baxter whirled on her, anger etching his cheeks. “Would you just put her in!”

“There’s blood on her back! We need it to smear in the car.”

He gave her a long, searing look, as if reading every depraved thought in her heart.

Melissa crossed her arms over her chest.

“You think you’re smarter than me?” Baxter’s voice growled.

Melissa shoved to her feet. “I’m not putting her in there until you tell me how we’re getting blood in the car.”

“Just do it!”

“No!”

In an instant Baxter covered the space between them. He grabbed Melissa’s shoulders, squeezing hard enough to rip off her arms. His face pushed into hers, his teeth clenched. “We’ve got blood on the paper towels.” He shoved her. Melissa stumbled back and fell.

She jumped up, mad at herself for forgetting such a detail, madder at him. She shot him a look of pure venom. “Stop shoving me around, Baxter. I’m not Linda.”

“You certainly aren’t.” His tone dropped to cold, flat stone.

He swiveled on his heel and stalked to the Mercedes. “Get her in and shovel the dirt over her.”

Melissa cursed him under her breath. Such a macho man. Shoved women around but too weak in the stomach to bury his own wife. Fine then. She’d show him who was stronger.

She knelt beside the slash in the earth and pushed Linda into the grave none too gently. The body landed on its side. Melissa forced the knees to bend up, her chin down to her chest.

Melissa stole a glance over her shoulder. Baxter stood with his back to her, hands dug into his scalp.

The grieving husband.

Quietly Melissa unzipped her sweatshirt pocket, pulled out the comb. Unwound the toilet paper and stuffed the wad back in her pocket. She leaned into the grave, lifted Linda’s arm and placed the comb beneath it. She could only hope Baxter’s hairs were still stuck in the teeth.

There. Insurance.

Melissa pushed to her feet and picked up a shovel. She thrust its blade into the mound of soil and threw the contents into the grave. Dirt plopped on Linda’s side, into her hair. Melissa knew the sight should turn her stomach, but it didn’t. She just wanted this over.

She threw a glance at the sky. How long until dawn?

Melissa sent a second shovel-full of dirt into the hole. A third, a fourth, and more. Slowly Linda’s face disappeared.

Baxter hadn’t moved.

“Hey.” Melissa twisted around. “You want us out of here sometime tomorrow, maybe you ought to help.”

He turned to her, his face a mask of control, as if one unguarded move would crack it from ear to ear. Was he holding back anger at her or grief over Linda? Or both?

At the moment Melissa didn’t care. She was just about ready to push him into the earth with his wife.

Without a word Baxter picked up his shovel and helped refill the grave. When it was nearly all packed into place they replanted the large bush on top. Baxter moved like a robot, tight-jointed and expressionless. He tossed small branches and brush around the edges until the freshly moved earth could not be seen.

They used the blanket to wipe off the shovels without cleaning them completely. Didn’t want to arouse any suspicion in the gardeners’ minds once the shovels were replaced in the garage. Melissa shook out the blanket, then folded it. She laid it in the BMW trunk, the shovels going on top.

“You know a dumpster where we can leave the blanket?” Melissa closed the trunk.

“I’ll handle it.”

They stood one foot apart. Baxter wouldn’t look at her. His face now screamed blame. “Don’t lose me on the way back.”

When Melissa started the BMW’s engine, the clock read 3:41. So little time.

She followed Baxter out of the woods, her brain sodden and thick. Dully, she gazed at the house on the hill as they passed it back on the road. It looked a-writhe in secrets, like the house in Psycho.