Needle Work: Battery Acid, Heroin, and Double Murder(32)

“Let’s go,” he said, and they were back in the car driving through snowdrifts. “I want to see if the body burned,” he said, and they drove to the park.

There were no flames, no fire, and no parked cars investigating a homicide, no nothing. Tim pulled in the lot across the street. They parked and got out. Tim wanted to see the condition of the body. Carol shoved her hands down deep in her pockets to keep them warm. She zipped her coat so far up, she didn’t have any neck exposed to the bitter wind that was whipping off the river.

Tim stuck his arm through her arm, and stuck his hands in his pockets, saying, “C’mon, let’s go this way.” And like two lovers out for a middle-of-the-night stroll, instead of two murderers returning to the scene of the crime, they crossed the street, entered the park, and jogged down the snow-covered path.

The idea, he explained, was to walk past Nancy’s body to see if any of it had burned. He didn’t know if anybody was out there looking for them, but if she saw somebody, Carol should pretend she was scared.

Carol didn’t have to pretend.

From a few yards away, they walked past Nancy’s body, but they were too far away to tell if any of it had been damaged by fire. It looked like it had been. However, being that it was so dark, and it had started to snow again, she couldn’t see what part of it had burned, or if it was just the blanket or nothing at all.

What she wanted more than anything was to get the hell out of there. They continued walking, down to the river. The water gurgled in the darkness. Tim said he wanted to hug her.

She let him hug her, but what he was really doing while they embraced was looking around to see if anyone was in the area watching them. After a few minutes of simulated necking, he grabbed her arm and led her along the river, through the dense undergrowth.

Tim followed a serpentine course around the river and back up the street. They found themselves on a road that bent around to some public housing projects. They trotted now, around the back of the projects, cut in front of an empty field, then walked beside a fence.

“Don’t walk too fast,” Tim warned.

She was taller; he had trouble keeping up. Carol just wanted to get the hell home to her kids.

“Don’t look so scared. Don’t walk fast. Slow down.”

Tim grabbed her arm. He pulled at her to slow down. Soon they were at the car. Relieved to be inside, Tim shot the engine to life, threw the heater on full blast, and tooled over to Uncle Sammy’s again. While Tim and his uncle and the girls smoked some, Carol went into the bathroom. When she got out, Uncle Sammy asked her what time it was.

Carol looked at her watch. It was 4:25 A.M. She had been away from her kids, with no one to take care of them, for 4 1/2 hours. She reminded Tim that the kids were home alone.

By the time they left, it was a quarter to five. But Tim still didn’t hurry. He drove nonchalantly around town, past favorite haunts, until he got back on the interstate and headed south.

“Do you feel like you’re being followed?” Tim asked.

The truth was, she didn’t, but she was afraid to disagree with him. Tim seemed so unstable.

“Yeah,” she lied.

Tim got off the highway at the last exit before they left the outskirts of Flint behind. He drove around, figuring he’d lead his pursuers on a wild-goose chase until he spotted them; then he’d lose them.

“Any cars follow us off the freeway?” he asked.

Carol turned and looked. No, there was no one behind. Just empty road. Tim kept driving around and then went into an all-night car wash. They pulled into a washing stall.

“Ain’t this gonna look suspicious, you going to the car wash at five-thirty in the morning?”

Tim didn’t think so. He backed the car up to the vacuum area and stopped. Snaking the pipe inside the car, he began vacuuming. He vacuumed the floor and the mats. He went back and opened the trunk. Nancy’s shoe was still there. Tim threw it in the Dumpster. Then he was gone. Carol didn’t see him. Where had he gone? Carol looked out the window, trying to see where he was, and then she turned around.

It was like he had materialized in front of the car. She didn’t know how long he had been standing there. But he appeared like he was looking to see if somebody was following them. He saw nothing and got back behind the wheel. They were on their way home.

Carol nodded off on the way. Tim woke her up. He asked her what she was thinking. She opened her eyes to snow blowing in sheets. They were still on the interstate. Tim asked her again what she was thinking.

“Nothing. I’m tired, ya know, I’m just tired.”

And then Tim stopped talking to her, questioning her. He was running down. They were just cruising through the night with their problems behind them, left back there in a Flint park, hopefully obscured by flame. Again, Carol drifted off.

Something jerked her awake. Something in her brain was telling her, warning her, not to go to sleep. She sat up and lit a cigarette, smoked for a few minutes and stubbed it out.

Tim got off at the exit for Dixie Highway/Waterford. Despite her best efforts, she fell asleep for a few minutes.

“We’re in the driveway,” said Tim.

Carol looked up. They were home. She looked at her watch—a quarter to seven! She had to get the kids up for school. But Tim had other ideas first.

“Get Nancy’s stuff together. Her bags and all her stuff,” said Tim.