The Ex Killer Series

by Bridget Bundy

  What a long day. I can’t even begin to explain how happy I was to be in the bed again.

  FRIDAY, JUNE 26, 2009

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  When I went to the kitchen the next morning, Beth and Dillon was there. Beth was putting tops on plastic containers, and Dillon was drinking coffee. I thought about going back to my room and staying there until they left, but I was up and I wasn’t going to let Dillon dictate what I did.

  Beth was in a good mood, and she sung, “I’m getting ready to leave in a minute, Angela. I am so excited.”

  “I can tell.” I remarked as I walked on the other side of the table. I was trying to keep far away from him as possible.

  “I’ve made enough food to last Ms. Emma for three days. So, she should be good to go until I get back. I’ll give you my cell number just in case you have any problems.”

  I gazed over at Dillon and said, “I doubt if there will be problems.”

  He buried his face in his coffee cup. I sure hope he wasn’t going to be, but I knew the reality. He was going to try again. I had no doubts. If I didn’t give in to his demands, then I was going to probably end up like Beth’s old roommate. Beaten and then probably raped, anyway. My body shook at the possibility. I wasn’t scared when I came face to face with Ms. Emma’s husband, but now I’m terrified when it came to Beth’s boyfriend. Maybe, the truth is I am just as vulnerable as I was back in Colum.

  “Can you take this over to Ms. Emma?” Beth started wiping down the counters and putting dishes away.

  “I can.” I answered.

  “Excellent. I think I got Ms. Emma taken care of. Dillon, is my baggage in your truck?”

  He said smartly, “Since you asked me the first time.”

  “Angela, feel free to use my car as much as you want. The keys are right here beside my mess of paperwork.” Beth exhaled with a big smile on her face. “I think I’m ready to go.”

  She hugged me, and they walked to the door together. Before the door closed, Dillon gave me one last glare. It was the same look he gave me when we were alone in the kitchen. I was in trouble. He was coming back for me. I didn’t know when, but he was definitely going to repay me another visit. Maybe, I can get closer to Brandon for protection, but I decided not to do it. I wasn’t going to pit brother against brother. Brandon didn’t need to get in the middle of my problems, and that could work against me. I had to handle Dillon on my own, and I had to be smart about it. I have to see what Dillon does and wing it. I was afraid, practically in fear of my life, but I had to find some kind of strength and keep a sound mind. I had no doubts about Dillon’s intentions. If he didn’t have any qualms about hurting a child, it wouldn’t make a difference in my case.

  I was moving slow to Ms. Emma’s house. I was still thinking about Dillon and what he might do to me. Either I better get him first or he’s going to get me. How could I get him? What could I possibly do to a guy who is bigger and strong I am?

  Ms. Emma met me at the door. She helped me with the plastic containers, and we took everything to the kitchen. I asked her, “Did Beth tell you she would be gone for three days?”

  “She did. She told me she got a new job as a bartender. I think she is going about it all wrong. She wants to be a successful singing star, but she doesn’t ask me for help. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “She sees bartending as steps along the way.”

  Ms. Emma laughed as she opened each container. She said, “I have connections in the entertainment business, and I can give her names and phone numbers. That’s all she needs to do is ask me. Oh no, she thinks I’m the loon of Red Rooster Circle, and I’m incapable of helping her. Even though, she takes care of me, Angela, she still judges me. I don’t like it when people judge me.”

  I was drawn away from what she was saying. I began thinking about what she said about Dillon, and how he got away with it before. Then Brandon said last night. If he was brave enough, he would have stopped him the first time. Obviously, I haven’t been told everything.

  I asked, “Ms. Emma, has Dillon abused another child before?”

  She wouldn’t turn around to make eye contact. More dirty damn secrets. The silence spoke volumes.

  I asked, “Who, Ms. Emma?”

  A loud knock erupted from the back door. Ms. Emma and I jumped from the sudden noise. The door came open, and she stepped back. Her husband, Lawrence Clark, came right in. He gripped the door knob like he was going to tear it off.

  His voice was deep and rough when he asked, “What is she doing here?”

  Ms. Emma smiled and posed, “Hello, Lawrence. Welcome to my home.”

  “Cut the shit, Emma.” He started moving towards me.

  I stood my ground. I looked him right in the face, but my heart was racing.

  He stopped more than an arm distance from me and demanded, “You need to leave.”

  “No,” I said.

  Ms. Emma grabbed my arm and said, “It’s okay, Angela. I’ll see you later.” She began pulling me out of the kitchen.

  “Ms. Emma, are you sure? I don’t want to leave you alone with him.”

  “I will be fine. He comes over all the time, and he’ll be gone before you know...before I know it.” Ms. Emma laughed nervously.

  When I got to the porch, Ms. Emma assured me again that everything would be fine. I didn’t want to leave, but I did. I stepped off the porch and walked slowly down the sidewalk. Ms. Emma said that he was abusive, and I didn’t want him laying a hand on her. I was so scared for her.

  When I reached the end of the sidewalk, I heard yelling from inside the house, and then I heard a familiar pop. NO! MS. EMMA! Maybe, he went beyond the limit this time. I ran back inside the house knocking down piles of books. I ran into the kitchen, and her husband was lying on the floor. His mouth was wide open, and he was staring at nothing. Ms. Emma shot him dead! She had a gun in her hand, and she was sitting in the corner. She was crying and shaking. I stepped around her husband making sure I didn’t step in his blood, and I kneeled down beside her. I gently took the gun from her.

  She was crying so badly to the point I was beginning to cry. I hugged her and told her it would be okay. I helped her to her feet, and I walked her to the bedroom. I didn’t want her to see her husband anymore. She started muttering about jail and people taking her house away, and I shook my head.

  I assured her, “Ms. Emma, you won’t lose your home. I promise. The police won’t even know.”

  “Angela, I can’t go to jail. I can’t go to jail.”

  I hugged her again. “You have to calm down, Ms. Emma. You’re not going to jail. I’ll fix everything.”

  “He was hitting me, Angela! He put his hands on me, and I told him never to put his hands on me! He was waving that gun in my face!”

  “You were only protecting yourself. Don’t worry about it anymore. Just stay in here for the rest of the day. I’ll take care of him.”

  “Do you think he’s dead? Do you think I killed him, Angela?”

  I nodded as an answer and continued, “Don’t leave this room, Ms. Emma. You understand?”

  “I didn’t mean to kill him.”

  “I believe you. I understand, Ms. Emma. You have no idea how much I understand. Look, I need for you pay attention to me. Do not come out of your room until I tell you. Do you hear me?”

  “I hear you, Angela.”

  “Repeat what I said, Ms. Emma.”

  “Do not leave this room.”

  “I’ll be back.”

  She nodded and began crying again. I hugged her one last time, and I walked out the front door. I made sure I locked it before closing it. I didn’t want anyone walking into her house without knocking. I went to Beth’s house, hid the gun under my mattress, and I called Brandon. I called out sick. I told Brandon a lie. He offered to bring soup, but I told him I needed to get some rest. I didn’t need him hanging around the house.

  After trying to convince Brandon not come over for nearly fifteen minutes, I went to the sid
e of Beth’s house, and I found two long handle shovels that Dillon used to dig a hole for the azalea bush. I tossed both of them over Ms. Emma’s fence. I rushed over to her back yard, and I looked around. Her back yard was surrounded by tall trees. Her house had the only view of her back yard, which was excellent. I can work without the risk of being watched. She had an empty flower bed near the back of the yard against the tall fence and a full bloom flower bed against the house. I gazed back at the shovels not believing what I was about to do. But this was going to be the only way to protect Ms. Emma, and I’ve done much worse.

  I started digging in the empty flower bed near the fence, and I was digging for a while. The sun was beating me up bad, but I kept at it. I didn’t hear or see any sign of Ms. Emma. I hoped she did what I told her. Finally, the hole was deep and wide enough. I went back inside, and I searched the kitchen for large garbage bags and duct tape. I found the garbage bags in her kitchen closet, but I couldn’t find duct tape. So, I checked her husband’s truck. Men always have duct tape, and Lawrence Clark did not disappoint. I found three rolls. First, I put the bottom half of Lawrence’s body in the plastic bags, and I duct taped it closed around his ankles and hips. I was so worn out at that point, that I had to stop and take a break. I was sweating beyond belief, and I was exhausted.

  Ms. Emma had a pitcher of water in her refrigerator, and I poured myself a glass. It hit the spot and gave me renewed energy. I drank two more glasses before I started up again. I was about to put another bag over the top half of Lawrence Clark’s body, but his eyes stopped me. He was gone. He stared up at the ceiling, his breath long gone, his shell left behind. The man no longer looked real. I quickly put the bag over his head and shifted it down to his waist. I taped the bag around his neck and abdomen, and I straightened to see my work. His hands were sticking out of the bottom of the top bag, and I could see part of his jeans.

  Then all of a sudden, I realized I had a problem. How was I going to get the body outside to the hole? I put the body in trash bags, and I have nothing to grab on to. I took the tape off his neck and waist, which proved to be a freaking nightmare. The duct tape wouldn’t release the plastic bag, and I ended up tearing it. I just wanted to cuss and fight at that point. I needed to get this guy in the ground, and I was messing up.

  I tried to pull the body from under his armpits, but that was no good. I couldn’t even move it. I had to roll the damn body out the door, and it took forever for me to get him to the hole. By that time, I was done. I wasn’t going to put him back in a garbage bag. I simply pushed his body in the deep hole, and I started shoveling dirt onto his body. That part was easier, but still the sun wasn’t letting off on the heat. Eventually, the dirt was back in place.

  When I went back inside, Ms. Emma was standing in the kitchen looking at the blood on the floor. I went to her and begged, “Please, go back to your room, Ms. Emma.”

  “No, Angela, I can help. I’ll clean up the blood.”

  “No, I’ll do it. Just go back to your room...”

  “Angela, I’ll clean this up. I’m fine now.”

  Actually, I was relieved to hear she would clean up the blood because I still needed to get rid of his truck. The only problem is it was still daylight, and if someone saw me driving her husband’s truck, people might be asking questions. I’d have to wait until the middle of the night when everyone was asleep and take the truck out of town.

  I said, “Ms. Emma, I’m going to take a shower. I’m really tired. I’ll be back tonight to get rid of his truck. Will it be okay if I leave it in your back yard?”

  “That’s fine, Angela.”

  “Alright, are you sure you’ll be okay?”

  Ms. Emma touched my arm, and she gave me a gentle look. Tears appeared in her eyes, and I had to look away. I began to cry, too. Standing there with her was just all too much. I felt so bad for her. I felt responsible because maybe if I wasn’t around, she wouldn’t have killed him. Maybe, he wouldn’t have been so hard on Ms. Emma. She was a lady with a glorious life, and I really believe I made it ten times worse.

  “I’m sorry, dear,” Ms. Emma said softly, “I’m sorry for causing all this trouble.”

  I gazed up at her with tears that wouldn’t stop. I said, “I’m sorry, too.” I walked out the back door. Damn! What have I done?

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  The shower felt wonderful to my entire body, and I stood in it until the hot water turned cold. I was in shock. I’ve killed two guys and helped bury another. Is this what my life has amounted to? Killing abusive men and helping another woman get rid of hers? What kind of person am I truly to be able to do these kinds of things? I was a monster. I was a person that could kill another person and not feel an inch of remorse. But with Ms. Emma involved, this was absolutely different. I wished she never had done that. This is something she can’t back out of. There is no correcting the mistake and bringing back the dead. This deed of killing was more permanent than anything else in the world, and Ms. Emma had done it. I wish I would have killed him. I should have stayed in the house, and I should have stood up for her, stood with her. Would the outcome be different? I have no idea. Maybe, it’ll be worse.

  I wrapped myself in a towel, and I sat on my bed. I started crying again. Poor Ms. Emma, I couldn’t believe what she’d done. Hopefully, I’ve buried him deep enough to the point where he’ll never be found. She’ll be able to live in peace, or I could have made it worse because I buried him in her back yard. Hopefully, Ms. Emma didn’t see what I did, and she won’t be haunted knowing he was there.

  I was scared out of my wits, when a soft knock was at my bedroom door. I thought at first it was Dillon, but to my own relief, it was Brandon. But then again, I was only wearing a towel. So, I was still vulnerable nonetheless.

  “How did you get in the house?” I wasn’t thinking. I knew, and I stopped him before he could answer. “Front door was unlocked.”

  “I knocked several times.”

  “I was in the shower. I told you not to come over, Brandon.” I had my arms crossed on my chest, holding my towel in place.

  “I just wanted to check on you, and I wanted to make sure our date wasn’t the reason for you not coming to work today. I hope I didn’t do something wrong.” Brandon said.

  “You haven’t done anything wrong. Like I told you on the phone, I wasn’t feeling well.”

  “I wanted to talk to you in person about last night. I was hoping that you weren’t angry with me. Our date really didn’t go as I planned.”

  I asked angrily, “How do you deal with what your brother has done?”

  He exhaled and answered, “I guess I don’t deal. I stay away from him, and he stays away from me.”

  “But it’s not right, Brandon.”

  “I realize that.”

  “He can’t continue what he’s doing.”

  Brandon was silent as he stared at the floor.

  I remarked, “I have to get dressed. Will you excuse me?” I was so angry. I was fuming. I can’t find one single person that’s fighting for Walter. Not one.

  Brandon had a look of disappointment. He said, “I’m sorry, Angela. I’ll be in the living room.” He walked away reluctantly.

  I was dressed in no time flat, and I went to the living room. Brandon was sitting on the sofa. His elbows rested on his knees, and his hands were together. He was still staring at the floor.

  I asked trying not to get anymore angrier than I was, “What do you want, Brandon?”

  He said, “I was hoping you and I could start over fresh. I don’t want to talk about Dillon anymore. He’s into every facet of my life, and I’m tired of it. No one can move on because of him.”

  “No one will be able to unless he’s stopped.” I was done. What was I expecting from Brandon anyway? He wasn’t abusing Walter. He’s not his brother. I continued, “Brandon, I apologize. I just feel very strongly about this whole situation. It’s not your fault. I am blaming you, and I shouldn’t be.”

  “There is no
need for you to apologize, Angela. I just don’t want you to hate me because of him. I hate to think that’s what keeping you from me.”

  “He’s not the only reason. It’s my past. I’ve had a difficult life, and it’s really hard to explain. I can’t let you in. I just can’t open myself like you want. Believe me you don’t want a relationship with me.”

  Brandon straightened and faced me. He said, “Yes, I do, Angela.”

  “I won’t be here for long, Brandon, and honestly, I’m not trying to build a life with anyone. I don’t have the mindset or the strength or even the hope.”

  “Why don’t you give me a chance? Why won’t you just try?”

  I answered honestly, “Because you will be disappointed. If you and I become a couple, eventually, you will turn against me. You will want to be as far away from me as possible, and you will absolutely hate me.”

  “You don’t know that, Angela.”

  “Yes, I do, Brandon. You don’t know who I am. You don’t know where I come from. I am literally a stranger to you, and you’re ready to dive into a fire that you don’t even realize is there.”

  He approached me and said, “The day that Walter hurt himself, I saw exactly who you were. I saw a woman that cared about a child that everyone has turned their back on. I saw a woman that chooses to reach out to him despite what he’s done. You are a miraculous woman, and everyone sees this. Shannon speaks highly of you. Beth is speechless because you’ve gotten that little boy under control. I don’t care about your past. I care about you. I think you’re absolutely amazing. You’re a step above everyone else I know.”

  I shook my head. He was clueless.

  “I can never hate you, Angela.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  He grabbed my hand and said, “No, I don’t think so.”

  He bent to kiss me, and I started to step back. But I didn’t. I allowed our lips to touch. My head was swimming. He was becoming a distraction. I had to back away. I was losing control. A desire was sparked. His kiss was so gentle, and it made me want him more.