Deceit (31 page)

How good would Baxter be at playing the distraught and worried husband? Could he keep it up day after day? Even now he wavered between emotion and resolve.

Melissa’s mouth twisted. Forget whatever weakness Baxter displayed in private. How many years had he played the perfect church man to the world?

Baxter slowed, and his left blinker flicked on. They turned onto a narrow lane leading through a forest. Not a house anywhere nor an ounce of light other than from their cars. Trees crowded the road like menacing sentinels, blocking out the stars, the moon.

How had Baxter known of this place? A possible housing development site? Some Sunday picnic with Linda?

Five minutes later, shortly after they’d passed a lone house on a cleared hill, he turned onto a rutted road. 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.

When they got back home she’d need to wash and dry their clothes. Check their shoes.

At 4:02 Baxter pulled up to a dumpster behind a small grocery store in a still-sleepy little town. They threw away the blanket. Five minutes later they stopped at the edge of a parking lot behind a strip mall. With the washcloths they wiped down the BWM’s front seat, the doors, keys, and dashboard. Baxter then took the bloodiest paper towels from the plastic bag and pressed them around on the front seat and steering wheel. He was careful not to touch anything with his fingers.

“It won’t look like drops,” Melissa said.

“It’ll do. Blood would get smeared in a fight.”

They left Linda’s purse on its side on the floor of the passenger seat, contents spilled. Baxter hovered at the door, surveying his handiwork. With a small grunt he leaned in, took the money from Linda’s wallet, wiped the leather off, and threw the wallet back on the floor. He took her cell phone too. The keys they left in the ignition.

He stood back again, gaze roaming, calculations playing across his tightened mouth. Then he closed the door. “Let’s go.”

They probably hadn’t erased every one of their fingerprints, but it wouldn’t matter. Both of them had reason to be in that car plenty of times. Melissa gave the BMW one last glance as she slipped inside Baxter’s Mercedes. Too bad they had to sacrifice such a nice car.

Baxter started his engine and headed for Vonita.

Melissa pressed back against the seat, arms folded. Feeling a hundred years old. Baxter believed he’d never be caught becaus no one would ever suspect him in the first place. Who wouldn’t believe the king of Vonita?

Melissa couldn’t be so sure.

If things went south, if it came down to her against Baxter, she’d skate free. She’d made sure of that.

Baxter focused on the road, narrow-eyed and stiff. “I’ll say Linda left the house around eleven to buy some aspirin at the convenience store. She had a bad headache. I’d just gotten in bed. I fell asleep soon after and slept hard all night. When I woke up, she wasn’t there.”

“Any aspirin in the house right now?”

“I’ll get rid of it.”

“What about me?”

“You were in your room and heard nothing. You didn’t even know Linda had left.”

Baxter’s words spit through his teeth, as if he detested Melissa’s very presence. As if they were enemies handcuffed together. Melissa’s heart twisted. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Now that Linda was dead, why couldn’t she and Baxter be together?

Maybe he’d feel differently tomorrow. When he saw how alone he was. How much he needed her.

They entered Vonita as they’d left, through a back road that led to the house. Melissa cast worried glances at connecting streets. “What if someone later says they saw us?”

“You see anyone around?”

“No, but—”

“So shut up.”

They turned into the driveway. Baxter pressed the remote button, and they slipped into the garage. The door closed behind them, shutting them off from the rest of the world.

Baxter turned off the car. The engine ticked.

He turned to her, his stare the cold black of cave water. His expression and body were hard, brittle. Melisa gazed into those bottomless eyes and saw a truth that made her heart dry up.

Baxter Jackson would never be the same man again.

She had pushed him over a cliff, and the impact had broken him. This man before her was the glued-together version. Less stable. More volatile.

And he could barely stand to look at her.

“This is what you do, isn’t it, Melissa? Turn situations to your best advantage. Play the part, do whatever is necessary to make things come out your way. Now I see it. I see what you really are.”

What, Baxter, a deceiver? Just like you?

Baxter’s mouth flattened. “How cool you were tonight. Poor little orphan girl, the very picture of control. Almost like you’ve done this before.” His eyes glittered as he read her soul, just as she had read his.

“You killed your mother, didn’t you?”

SIXTY-ONE

FEBRUARY 2010

Footsteps shuffled by my head. My eyes dragged half open. Through a warped tunnel I saw shoes. Legs.

I lay on my left side. My right shoulder screamed.

A malevolent presence leaned over me, breathing hard.
What?…Who?

Melissa.

Killed Linda.

I froze, eyes half mast, in feigned death.

Movement toward me. Something hard pressed against my temple.

My head jerked. I rolled onto my back.

Melissa swept the gun toward my chest.

My right arm wouldn’t work. My left arm shot up and grabbed her wrist. Twisted hard.

The gun barrel jerked away from my heart toward the wall. Melissa yelled. I held on, teeth clenched. My nails dug into the tendons of her wrist.

Her hand shimmied, fingers loosening. The gun fell from her grip onto my chest. My flopping right fingers managed to knock it aside.

Something primal and raw rose within me. I yanked her hand to my mouth. Sank my teeth deep into the side flesh.

Melissa cursed and flailed at my face with her other hand. A pit bull, I would not release. I caught her free arm with my left hand and yanked her down. She stumbled and fell. Her forehead hit the arm of my office chair.

She landed on top of me with a grunt, right hand trapped beneath her, still between my teeth. Melissa screamed curses and beat my head with her fist.

My left arm stretched out across the floor, scrabbling for the gun. Melissa hit me in the temple, once, twice. Blackness swarmed in.

My fingers closed on the gun. I clutched its hardness, warmed by Melissa’s hand. I raised it high against Melissa’s ribs—and pulled the trigger.

A strangling sound wrenched from her throat. Melissa collapsed, her body half on top of me, then rolled to the floor.

My teeth released her hand. My jaw felt like concrete.

I struggled to get up. My legs were mere water. Groaning, I scooted across the floor, weapon still clutched in my left hand. I lifted it up and laid it on my desk. Fumbled for the phone.