Page 24 of The Stranger

I’ve changed my mind again. I was wrong earlier. I just hadn’t given myself enough time to process everything.

My final verdict is that everyone should commit murder on snow if they want to get away with it. At least, if you have enough privacy and time to wait for it to melt.

With the snow spread around, the evidence of my crime tossed here and there, I’m feeling good as I walk away. It’s how I always feel after a night like this, after ending a life, settling a score, but this time is different.

Special.

His body is gone. I heard the animals doing the dirty work for me. This time I know, when the storm is just a distant memory and the weather warms up enough to melt the snow away, every trace of what I’ve done will be gone. As much a part of the earth as his body is now.

Aside from his bones, which will no doubt be torn apart and scattered throughout the woods long before anyone enters them, there will be nothing left to tie us together, to hint that there was a crime at all. His blood will soak into the mud, the dirt, the soil, and anything left of his body will nourish the plants and the animals. It’ll be the one selfless thing he’s ever done.

When I gave up on digging the grave, I threw my shovel in a ravine nearby. The icy water is still rushing so fast, moving it along so quickly, it’ll never be traced back to this area if it’s found at all.

Someone will just think it’s been lost or misplaced. They may keep it and use it to plant the vegetables they feed their children with, even. Consider it my good deed. A donation.

I cross the woods slowly, studying the car where it sits. It’s stalled along the side of the road, but so far no one has gotten out. The headlights shine, illuminating the empty road ahead. In front of it, snow falls in every direction, with thick, heavy snowflakes that I know are already doing the work of covering the crime scene I just left.

I need a car.

I need this person’s car.

The thought is firm in my mind at this point. Whoever is in this car will have to go. It’s a twist of fate, a choice they made to stop, and now I have to kill them.

When you need things, the universe has a way of putting them directly in your path. Now, standing just feet away from the car at the edge of the treeline, that’s never felt more poignant than at this exact moment.

Quickly, before they can drive away, I formulate a plan. Once I have it, I barrel out of the tree line, running forward with my hands over my head and waving them frantically.

No one has rolled down a window or stepped out by the time I reach the car, and as I get closer, I can see the two figures inside. They’re illuminated by the glow of the radio in the dashboard. Teenagers, from the looks of it. She’s in his lap on the driver’s side, her shirt removed, breasts exposed. Their kisses are the passionate kind that belongs exclusively to young lovers, the kind of kisses that make the world around them disappear entirely.

The kind of kisses that keep them blind to the stranger, the murderer, standing just outside their car.

I bang on the window, needing to draw their attention. To get them out of the car where this will be easier. Less messy.

The girl screams and falls out of his lap, covering herself with her hands.

“What the fuck?” His voice is so loud I can hear him outside the car.

“Drive!” She points ahead with one hand, using the other to grab her shirt from the back floorboard. “Please, drive, Ben.”

“It’s fine.” He cracks the window, easing his seat up. “Yeah? Can we help you?” He’s adjusting himself in his seat, out of breath and clearly frustrated.

“Help.” I force myself to pant. To seem out of breath. To cry and whine and beg and seem as helpless and harmless as I can. “There’s a dog that fell into the ravine. I keep trying to get it to come to me, but it’s hurt and scared. I need your help to get it before it drowns.”

In the seat next to him, the girl has pulled the shirt back over her head to cover herself and is staring at me with a worried expression.

“A dog?” She glances at the boy, and I can tell she doesn’t believe me. Doesn’t feel safe. I’m not worried, though. I can already tell he’s the only one I have to convince.

“Where did you come from?” The boy looks around, appearing nervous, though I suspect he’s more worried about what I saw than that I might be a danger to them.

“I was just passing through. You probably saw my car a few miles back.” They exchange a look that tells me they did. “I was driving, heading home for the holidays, and the dog just darted out in front of me. I almost couldn’t stop in time, nearly hit it.” I run a hand over my mouth. “It’s too cold for any animal to be out in this, so I pulled over to try to get it in the car and check for a collar to get it home, but it took off. I’m just trying to get it somewhere warm before the storm gets worse. And I left my phone in the car. Please. Come on. We’re wasting time. I need your help before it drowns or floats down the creek too far and we can’t get to it. It’s lucky I saw your headlights. No one else has driven by and I don’t think I can save him on my own at this point.”

They exchange worried glances, but eventually, the boy nods and pushes the door open. “Okay. Yeah, I’ll help. You wait here,” he tells her, ever the gentleman.

“I’m not staying here alone.” She’s out of the car in an instant, hurrying down into the woods with us.

“You kids really shouldn’t be parked on the interstate like that,” I say. “It’s not safe. Especially with the storm tonight. Someone loses control, they’ll skid right into you.”

The boy runs a hand through his hair, fluffing it like teenagers do. “Yeah, sorry.” He takes her hand, pulling her close to him.

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