214 Palmer Street(52)
Clarice, always the clever one, came up behind him, pointed to the yard and said, “What happened?”
Earlier in the evening when driving down the street, checking out the house, he took note of the ones on either side. The house to the south was for sale and currently empty. On the other side, the Scott house looked unoccupied. An Amazon package on the porch sat next to an uncollected newspaper. The Adens’ old house was also dark. Clearly, no one was home in this section of the neighborhood. There would never be a better time to fix this.
He caught Clarice’s gaze. “What happened?” he repeated. “What do you think happened? We’re screwed.”
He tucked the gun under his left arm and picked up the bolt cutters. Crouching down, he positioned the blades around the shackle, gripping hard. It took four tries to get through the metal, but eventually it snapped. He pulled a tissue out of his pocket and used it to maneuver the lock off the handles. Once he’d yanked it free, he set it off to one side.
“What are you doing?” She crouched down next to him.
“What do you think? We’re going down and moving the body.”
“No,” Clarice said, horrified. She stood up abruptly. “I’m not moving a corpse.”
“You don’t have to worry about that. It’s probably a skeleton by now.”
“Gross.”
“Pretend it’s a Halloween decoration,” he said firmly.
She exhaled dramatically. “I seriously hope you’re kidding.”
“I’ve never been more serious. Come on, Clarice. An hour of work is a fair trade for staying out of prison.” She folded her arms but didn’t say no, so he continued. “It’s wrapped in plastic. The two of us can easily carry it.”
“And do what with it?” she hissed.
“We’ve got a whole state park behind us. We’ll find a spot.”
“This is crazy. You didn’t say anything about moving a body.”
“I’m saying it now.”
“If someone finds the body it will lead back to Kirk so who cares? It’s not our problem.”
He set the bolt cutters on the ground. “Clarice, you’ve known me how long? Do you think I’d do this if we had any other choice?” He gingerly opened the double doors, revealing the stairs below. “Kirk will crack under questioning. There’s no way he’d hold up.” He took the flashlight out of his pocket and aimed the beam down, seeing the same concrete steps he remembered from eighteen years before.
“I’ll go first,” he said, “and make sure it’s safe. Wouldn’t want you to get hurt.” He grinned at her and was relieved to see a playful smile twitch across her lips. Despite her protestations, he knew she’d follow. The curiosity would kill her. Besides, he had the car keys. She wasn’t going anywhere.
TWENTY-NINE
The smell hit him before he even reached the bottom of the stairs, making him want to heave, but Gavin pushed on, shining his light ahead of him. The shelter was smaller than he remembered. The metal shelves along the back were still there, but the fabric covering of the camping cot where he and Clarice had sex was now in shreds. The single sheet of plywood Kirk’s dad had put in place to cover the sand layer on the bottom had also deteriorated. He toed what was left of the plywood and pushed it up against the wall. In the spot where they’d buried Jeremy, the blue plastic sheeting had started to work its way to the surface of the sand, the length of his form rising like a ridge across the center of the floor.
Poor bastard. Couldn’t even stay buried.
He stuck the gun into his belt, took a step back to the stairs and called up to Clarice. “Everything’s good. Grab the shovel and come on down.”
“You sure?”
“Just get down here.”
Clarice came down slowly, the shovel clanking against the concrete stairs. “My God, the smell! I’m going to throw up.” She made a gagging noise.
“It’s the rotten wood and the mildew. It’s not that bad.”
“Not that bad?”
“Let’s just get this done. I don’t want to be here either.” Handing her the flashlight, he took the shovel and began digging around the plastic.
“Maybe if we just bury it deeper in here we wouldn’t have to move it.”
He shook his head and kept going. Typical Clarice, always the queen of bad ideas. Kirk had been the one who invited her to hang out with them to begin with, but Gavin could have put his foot down and put a stop to it. Kirk would have listened to him. If only he’d trusted his instincts as a teenager. Clarice was always going to stir up trouble. She was the reason Kirk was a blithering mess, and now, because of her, he was digging up a corpse in the dead of night when he’d rather be home with his wife.
Take Clarice out of his teenage history and it would have been just the three guys way back when. And Stephanie too, but she was never a problem. Just sat in the corner, reading a book. Sometimes he only remembered she was there when Jeremy shushed him after he or Kirk said something particularly raunchy. After Jeremy was gone, he’d thought Stephanie would be a problem, but she hadn’t made a peep in years.
Clarice, who now was pinching her nose, was another matter. Light her fuse and he knew she’d betray all of them and not think anything of it. Trouble was, he had no idea what her fuse might be at any given moment. The woman was unpredictable. The same thing that made her exciting also made her dangerous.