Page 84 of Trailer Trash

“His clothes and shoes were separate. Beasley stuffed everything else—including the camera—into the bag.”

“Was there a tripod for the camera?”

I nodded. “It was Branson’s, but the camera belonged to the guy.”

Jed was quiet for a moment. “Branson doesn’t want the video, Neely Kate. He’ll want it too if it’s still there, but that’s not why he wants to dig up the body. He’s after whatever’s in that bag.”

“Yeah . . . maybe.”

“No maybe about it.” He was quiet again. “I’m tempted to leave it and let sleepin’ dogs lie, but I think Branson will dig it up.” He glanced at me again. “What will he find that ties you to his death? The video? What about the murder weapon? What was it? A gun? Did you leave blood evidence in the house?”

“There wasn’t any blood.” Then I added, “Not his.”

“How much of yours?” When I didn’t answer, he asked, “Enough to look like a crime scene?”

I still didn’t answer.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He was quiet for a good ten seconds before he said, “Then you killed him in self-defense.”

“No,” I said, surprised by how detached I felt. “I could have tried to run . . . but I didn’t. I stayed and killed him.”

“What do you mean you could have run? When Beasley showed up?”

I stared out the window at the passing landscape. Strangely enough, Jed was driving in the right direction. “When you get to that road up at the intersection, turn right.”

“Neely Kate, what am I going to find on that tape?”

I gasped. “You can’t watch the tape! Swear to me you won’t watch it!”

His face hardened. “I can’t promise you that.”

I shrank back in horror. “Why?”

“Because that’s the only way I’ll know how to protect you. I need to know what really happened.”

“No!”

“Then tell me.” He slowed down and turned.

We were getting closer to where we’d buried the guy, but I was panicked by the thought of Jed seeing what I’d done.

He grabbed my hand, and his voice was softer when he said, “It’s okay, NK. I’m gonna fix this. It’s what I do, remember? I’m really good at it, so you have to trust me, okay?”

“You can’t watch that video, Jed,” I said, feeling defeated. Jed was helping me, but at what cost? No matter what he thought now, if he saw that video from beginning to end, he’d never see me the same way again.

He was quiet for so long I was sure he wasn’t going to answer, but he finally said, “Okay, I won’t look at it, but you have to tell me what happened.”

I swallowed, feeling like I was going to throw up. “After Branson left me, my fears were confirmed. It was bad, really bad, and that’s all I want to say about that.”

And reason number one for why Jed couldn’t see that video.

He didn’t answer, so I continued, “I was kind of out of it, and—”

“Due to drugs or injury?” He was using his work face, the detached-from-the-situation one, and somehow that made it easier to tell him.

“He’d hit me too hard at some point, but I was lying there thinking I didn’t want to die like this and be forgotten. I didn’t want to disappear without anyone noticing, so I knew I had to fight back. He was bigger than me, but all of a sudden, I was filled with so much anger. At him, and at Branson, and at my momma and all the men in her life, and all I could think to do was lash out at the worst of them all. He had his back turned to me. I’m sure he didn’t see me as a threat. He’d just proven he could do whatever he wanted to me and there was nothing I could do about it. My hands were tied to a rope that had a few feet of slack, so I jumped on his back and looped the rope around his neck and pulled tight.”

“You strangled him.”

---