by T Gephart
“Where did you get a body?” She hesitated through the words like she was forcing herself to say them.
“Really?” I cocked my head to the side wondering if she was honestly asking that question.
“Please tell me you didn’t kill anyone.” She looked down at her hands and held her breath.
“I did, but trust me I was doing her a favor.” I had no inclination to lie to her, and not because I was trying to be an asshole either. It was different, like she deserved the truth from me. She’d earned that. “She was going to die anyway, but my way made it peaceful for her. She was thankful; I know you can’t understand that, but she was. I gave her the out she needed, and she gave it to you.”
“I-I.” She stopped, taking a mouthful of air before continuing. “I hate that you killed for me. I hate . . . I hate so much.” Her head fell forward, resting against her chest. “I hate all of this.”
“Hate is powerful, Sofia, but it’s more reliable than any other emotion you’re going feel.” I’m not sure why but my hand reached for hers, my fingers squeezing tight. “Don’t fight it; accept it. Let it carry you, because I guarantee, it will get worse before it gets better. I told you this wasn’t going to be pretty.”
She wouldn’t look at me, her eyes scrunched as I tightened my grip on her hand. “Remember why, Sofia. Remember why this is happening and what your alternative is.”
She’d proven she was tough, and she had earned a truckload of respect from me by the way she’d handled herself. But I didn’t know how much more of it she was really going to be able to take. She had broken down last night—no judgment because most people would have cracked days ago—but seeing her like that stirred something inside me. Not sure if I liked it and I sure as fuck didn’t understand it.
I could see the war being waged in her head. Her muscles clenched as whatever argument took place continued. If she wanted to live, she was going to have to fight. And there was only one person who could convince her of that, and it couldn’t be me.
“I can do this. I can do this,” she whispered, blowing out a long breath like that decision had been made, her eyes meeting mine. “I want to see her.”
Instinct told me that was a bad idea, but I saw no point in hiding. Maybe it’s because of the way she looked at me, like I wasn’t a monster. And the unexplained need I had to prove that I was.
“She’s in the car.”
Sofia pushed herself out the office chair and waited for me to take the lead. She followed me close behind to where the car was parked, her feet keeping up and showing no hesitation.
The bright overhead halogen reflected off the windshield making it difficult to see her face. From the angle we were standing it looked like she was just sitting there, waiting for her door to be opened, her thin, wasted body fixed in the seat by the seatbelt across it.
“You knew her?” she asked, moving to the passenger side door. “Or was she just some random girl?”
“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 fuck 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 fucking 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 fuck 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.
I shook off the feeling and continued with the process. Next was the kerosene. While most people went ahead and used gasoline, dumbasses didn’t realize they could easily head to a camping store in the winter, pick up a reasonable amount of kerosene and not attract so much as a sideways glance. Shit is also more stable laying around, provided it didn’t get too close to a match, which was where it was heading today.
Her skin was shiny with sweat with her hair pasted against her face. The moonlight made the parts of her that were exposed shimmer like an oil slick. Which was sort of the point I guess, the match tossed in as I gave her one last look.
She burned.
Her skin tightened against her skeleton as it crackled and then dissolved, the fire consuming her from the outside in. I sat and watched the entire time, listening to the hiss of burning flesh, as the hours passed and she was reduced to bones.
Sofia didn’t come out. Whether she’d given up and gone to bed or stayed by the computer, I’d have to wait another few hours to find out. And part of me was annoyed that I’d even bother to care.
Problem was, it wasn’t just thinking that had been my problem the last day or so. It was a gnawing feeling deep inside of me which was giving me the scratch. Which is why I was forcing myself to sit outside until the end. Gather what was left and let that toxic smell of burn get so far up my nasal passage, hopefully my brain would kick in.
This was who I was.
This is what I knew.
Not soft and fucking compassionate.
And I needed to remind myself.
Even if a part of me was fucking twisted in wanting what I couldn’t have.
***
She was asleep when I came into the room. The lamp on the nightstand was still on, the pale yellow glow throwing shadows across the drywall as I moved. Even the sound of my boots dropping on the floor didn’t get so much as a twitch in my direction.
I’d had to wait until the barrel had cooled a little and with some help from some heavy-duty gloves, I retrieved enough of Cecile to pack into an old coffee can to repurpose as Sofia. I’d add some necessary DNA in the morning—make that later in the morning—so if old man Jimmy swabbed it with a who’s-your-daddy-DNA kit, it would show enough markers to convince him it was his dearly deceased kid.
I’d hit the shower, the stench so deeply ingrained I’d have to gargle a gallon of bleach just so I wouldn’t smell it anymore.
I didn’t bother with the redress, slipping into the sheets in my boxers. Sofia hadn’t moved, her body curled up on itself as she laid on her side facing the opposite direction.
Fuck, it was next level fatigue washing through my body. Like I hadn’t slept in a week and it wasn’t just physically. The fucking gray matter up in my cranium was in a serious need of a reboot too.
Too wired to sleep, my head hit the pillow but my eyes stayed open. While I had been doing my burn-baby-burn outside, Jimmy had managed to funnel Sofia’s trust fund into my offshore account. Either that or he gave up totally and coughed up the total himself. Paying the grand sum of three point seven million dollars, which was exactly the amount Sofia had told me was in her account. Interest had been favorable which had inflated the initial figure, not that it mattered now. The money would cover her extensive hacker habit as well as get her a new identity, the falsified documents coming her way would stand up to even an FBI analysis.
“Is it done?” Her voice croaked, her body remaining in the same position.
“I thought you were sleeping?” My fingers linked behind my head, anchoring at the base of my skull.
“Off and on.” She flipped over, her bloodshot eyes needing a good dose of Visine. I doubted much sleep had happened. “Is she . . . all gone?”
“Yes.”
There was no point elaborating, and for reasons that bewildered the shit out of me, I didn’t want to. All part of that see-saw mind fuck I had going on which seemed to get foggier the more time I spent with her.
She closed her eyes, absorbing the word as her face tightened under the tension. My head turned, studying the lines in her forehead as she lay there silently.
“Your dad came through on the cash too, so it looks like tomorrow will be show time. We can stall for maybe another day but that’s as far as we can push it.”
“Whatever we need to do.” Her lids slid open and she looked at me, those fucking eyes nailing me from across the other side of the mattress. “If I’m dead, who will I be?”
“Sarah Lopez. Always good to go for a first name that is sort of similar so you maintain some recognition but not so similar people make a connection. And you also got a new nationality. Congratulations, your family is from Juarez, Mexico, but you’re moving to Toronto because you can’t stand the heat.”
“Wow, that’s pretty detailed.” Her eyes widened, clearly surprised the details had been fleshed out already. “I figured I’d have a say. I’m not trying to sound ungrateful, but I have to be this person for the rest of my life.”
Ordinarily I wouldn’t have bothered with the conversation. She didn’t have the luxury of choice. What she had was one fucking lifeline, and if she didn’t like it, there was the door. But instead of telling her all of that, I shocked us both when my mouth opened and started talking. “Sofia, you’ll still be you inside. Does it really matter what your driver’s license says?”
“No, I guess not,” she sighed, my point made without the preamble. “How am I going to get new ID, a trip to the DMV is going to be out.”
“There’s a Polack out in New York. He’s not cheap but he can provide full documents. He’s good. Really good, and he knows it which is why he charges premium. Not the kind of guy you go to if you want to go out underage drinking, but if you need to skip the country or—” I tipped my head toward her, “become someone else, he’s your man.”
“He can make me disappear?” A mixture of pain and hope flooded her eyes.
“Yes, he can.”
“What about you? What will you do?”
“I disappeared a long time ago.”
I hadn’t meant to do it. My brain tried to tell my body to stay on my side of the bed and mind its own fucking business, but my arms pulled her in anyway. She came willingly, her warm body up against mine before I could stop it. Not that I wanted it to stop, even though I knew that I fucking well should.
She didn’t hesitate, laying her head against my bare chest as my fingers found their way into her hair. “If I could change this, I would,” I whispered against her forehead.
The gasp could have been from either of us, my behavior so far from the norm I wasn’t sure I knew myself anymore. But more than just those words, I actually meant them as well. And as much as I wanted to front, shit had most definitely fucking changed. And I actually gave a shit about what happened to her.
It wasn’t about getting laid either. While Sofia had a body that made the front of my jeans tight, I could go work out that urge with anyone else in a heartbeat. Fuck, I could have done it tonight easily. But Sofia stirred something inside me that couldn’t be eased by a blowjob.
“Michael.” Her head tilted back as her lips parted, a rush of air pushing past.
“Shhhh, Sofia.” I brushed my fingers over her lips, unable to stop what was about to happen. “It’s too late now.”
His mouth was on mine before I knew what was happening. His lips taking what they wanted as his tongue explored my mouth. He wasn’t gentle, his hands moving against my body as he pulled me closer possessively. It was raw and hurried, a need burning inside us both as my body responded to him.
I didn’t think, rocking against him, unable to get close enough. My head was telling me this was all wrong, but I had no interest in listening—I couldn’t listen—the fear,
the anger, the emotions of the past week ripped through me demanding some relief.
The kiss sent us spiraling out of control, our hands clawing at each other like savages as the insanity of our situation boiled over. I wanted him, and I wanted him to take me. We needed this, to feel alive even though it would solve nothing.
He wasn’t the kind of man I’d ever entertain giving myself to. Hell, if anyone else had pulled that shit they would have met the business end of my Smith and Wesson and given a lead last meal. But with him, I felt powerful. There were no victims in this bed; we were equals.
My fingers dug into his skin but he didn’t flinch, instead he held my head as his lips were hungrily seeking mine like no one else existed.
In truth, no one else did—not even us.
He wasn’t gentle, clawing at the T-shirt I’d worn to bed and ripped it off, tossing it to the ground. His hands returned to my naked skin as I desperately sought the closeness. Needing his touch, needing to feel a connection and to feel something tangible right now.
My back arched off the mattress, pulling my mouth away from his, the intensity lighting my skin on fire.
“You want this?” His lips moved down my neck. “And I’ll know if you’re lying, so don’t bother.”
He didn’t stop but he was giving me an out, a chance to say no even though I could tell he wanted this as much as I did.
“Yes,” I moaned, the one word the permission he needed.
He rolled me onto my back and pressed his weight onto me, his arousal hard against my stomach as my legs scissored apart trying to seek the friction I needed.
“You’re fucking beautiful,” he growled, his fingers wrapping themselves around the sleep shorts I was wearing. “This isn’t going to be gentle.”
“I know.”
He wasn’t kidding, taking my shorts and panties off roughly at the same time and tossing them onto the floor. He didn’t bother to slow down, his hand going straight to the juncture between my legs and pushing a finger inside.
“This is how it is with me.” He looked me dead in the eye as his thumb rubbed against my clit. “And I’ve wanted to fuck you for awhile.”
