The Fall(58)

“I knew her; she didn’t know me.” I wasn’t trying to be cryptic, but it’s not like we had been BFF’s or anything. “She is about your height and age. Chances are no one is going to look closely enough, but if they do we want them to think it is you. I figure if we mix her bone fragments with your DNA it will be convincing enough. Your dad isn’t going to be able to submit samples to a government lab, so we don’t have to worry about it too much.”

Hell, he’d be pissed as f*ck that I destroyed her body but that would be easily explained. He hadn’t specified how he wanted the body, just that Sofia’s remains had to be returned. Maybe she struggled, gun went off and she was shot in the face. Or maybe his f*cking don’t-kill-her-no-I-mean-kill-her routine pissed me off enough that this was what he got. It didn’t matter to me, there wasn’t going to be any customer satisfaction survey at the end of it.

“You’re going to burn her.” It wasn’t a question; she continued to look through the closed side window.

“He wants something to bury; I’m going to give him that.”

Her eyes got glassy as her lips pressed into a thin white line.

There was no need for words, her body told me everything she needed to say. She hated what I was about to do, her arms were folded across her chest so tight I was sure I could hear her bones protest.

“I never really cared about what happened,” I said, watching her body tense as I spoke. “To the bodies. But trust me, this is far better than what she would have gotten, and her end was coming fast.”

“You don’t know that, you can’t have known that.” She didn’t move, her feet stuck on the floor beside the car.

“Yes, I do. Life is predictable for people like her. Hell, even for people like me. She was hooked on drugs, selling her body, and not because it was her choice. It was here or a dumpster. A few months difference, but the result would have been the same.”

She sighed, taking a deep breath while her hands dropped in front of her and knotted at the fingers. “Do you need help? I mean, you’re doing this for me. I should. I mean, I don’t know—”

“No, I’ll do this alone.” Her eyes clocked mine and the relief was immediate.

She might have been offering help, but neither of us wanted her hands on this. Her, because she was worried about sleeping at night knowing what she did, and me because I preferred to work alone. Or at least, that is what I told myself.

It was getting harder not to care about Sofia, harder to keep the distance between her being a reason for a payout and because I didn’t want her to end up like Cecile. It felt like putting on a suit jacket—the thing fit weird and was tight in all the wrong places. The suit and the feeling weren’t good for men like me. It could only mean bad things.

“Turn around, Sofia, go back to the computer.”

She waited, tossing up whether or not to argue because I’d told her what to do or stay to prove a point. “Okay, I’ll be around if you need me.”

It was a throwaway line, something people said to each other. Like housewives who saw each other in grocery stores and “promise to catch up” with no intention of ever doing so. But I hadn’t needed anyone in a very long time, and that wasn’t going to change tonight.

“Mmhmm.” I didn’t bother to correct her, watching her turn around and leave. The soles of her sneakers barely made a sound as she about faced and headed back to where’d she came.

“Alrighty, Cecile. Time to get this show started.” I yanked open the door and looked at what we had to work with.

An open fire wouldn’t get near hot enough to do the kind of damage I needed. And given I didn’t have a crematorium stashed out the back, I’d have to make do with the next best thing.

There was maybe an hour or two before shit got critical. There was no hard and fast rule for rigor mortis, and the last thing I needed was to have to hack up the body because I had pissed away time getting philosophical about what the f*ck I was doing.

I snapped off her restraint and lifted her out of the seat, carrying her through to the back door. Right to where a rusted-out fifty-five gallon drum was sitting on two cinder blocks.

Burn barrels weren’t a big deal, especially in an industrial part of town and as long as you didn’t have it going when business hours were on, most people in the vicinity turned a blind eye. Last thing those bastards wanted was the EPA poking its nose into their business, my redneck incinerator, small fry.

Nothing destroys evidence like a fire—not burying it, not tossing it in Lake Michigan, and not hiding that shit in the woods. Eventually, it all came back to bite you in the ass, which is why that rusted out piece of metal was more reliable than the new school methods. Just had to have some holes in the bottom, a generous amount of accelerant and a slight downwind to keep the smoke moving.

She folded easily inside, her body collapsing on itself like a broken rag doll as her weight hit the bottom of the barrel.

It was the first time I ever really looked at her face, knowing I was going to be the last person to see her. I’d never thought about that before, or more importantly cared. But this time was different, her death different than the others. It shouldn’t matter; the end came for all of us. But this was the first time the fall would be painless, and I wasn’t sure if that said more about her or about me.