Her BodyPosted: April 23, 2016
He needed to move her body.
The thought had plagued him for two weeks now. Two weeks since she had him over for a nightcap after the movie. Two weeks since she had laughed at his fumbling sexual advance. Two weeks since he had choked the laughter out of her as he watched her eyes pale.
It took longer than he expected. His hands still remembered the ache. She should have known better than to disrespect him. To make him angry like that.
Now she was just a body. And a problem.
Once his rage subsided, he devised an emergency plan. While he had plotted and planned killing often – usually for his stories – this had not been premeditated and he had no plan.
He unscrewed the light in the garage, opened the door. Nobody around at 2am. The trees made it hard to see from the road anyway. He backed into the garage. She only weighed 120, so putting her in the trunk was not a problem. He placed her on the plastic she used for a dropcloth and took the shovel that was hanging on the wall.
No blood, strangling works well for that.
Funny, her eyes were still open and the whites turned to grey. He’d have to remember that detail for his stories. They never showed that in the movies.
A month ago he made a random stop at the rest area on I-75. Too much Gatorade. He had noticed a wooded area adjacent. “Perfect body dump” he thought. “No one goes back there.” The gate was unlocked.
It was after 3am when he backed into the space. He wrapped the body, looked for witnesses and quickly moved it inside the gate.
The soil was clay. It was hard to dig and he was covered in it. He only buried her a few feet down, doubled over. Rigor hadn’t yet set it, thank God. He left it unwrapped so the decay would happen quickly. He hastily covered it with clay and leaves.
Then he was gone.
But for two weeks now, the body had occupied his fears. It wasn’t deep enough. Anyone could walk a dog or find the gate and woods a curiosity. He imagined some tourist from Madison, Wisconsin taking their toy poodle for a walk and finding it.
Every day he scoured the news to see if a body had been discovered. None. The stench would likely be strong now. Damn. Someone was sure to find it.
“But what would they find?” he argued with himself. “A dead woman. They would link it to her missing person report. No ties to you in any way. You used a fake name even in your profile.”
Still the thoughts nagged.
He decided he had to do it. He bought lye. He found a secluded spot 100 feet from a logging access road in the mountains and dug a proper grave. It took him all night.
The next night, strengthened by a fifth of bourbon, he drove to the rest area. At 3am it was deserted. He moved quickly through the gate and found the gravesite.