Page 85 of Trailer Trash

“It wasn’t easy. He was a big powerful guy, and he kept trying to throw me off, but I held on because I knew if I let go, I’d be as good as dead.”

“What happened then?”

“He stood at one point and tried to slam me into a wall to get me off. I hit my head—hard enough that I let go—but the ropes were tied to my wrists, so I was dangling from his neck. The next thing I knew, he fell with me underneath him. I was still attached to him with that rope. I probably lay there like that for a good five or ten minutes, maybe longer since I kept drifting in and out of consciousness, but then I knew I had to get up or I’d die there too. I finally figured out how to push him up and get unattached. As soon as I did, I found something to cut through the rope. I was looking for a phone to call the police when Beasley showed up.”

“Does Beasley know how you killed him?”

“He didn’t ask, and I never offered any explanation, but there was a rope burn around his neck. I figured the whole situation explained itself. But I know it wasn’t completely self-defense. I could have whacked him over the head and knocked him out. Besides, he obviously had money. I know how it works. I’d be facing jail time no matter who was at fault.”

“Where was your blood?”

“On the sheets.”

“And where are those?”

“Buried with him.”

“Did it get on the mattress?”

“No,” I said, feeling sick again. “Branson had one of those waterproof pads on there to protect it.”

He took a moment before he said, “We have to get that video and those sheets and anything else with your blood on it. What about the form you signed? Is that with him too?”

“Yeah. But what if Branson’s following us now?” I looked behind us but didn’t see any cars. “What if he shows up?”

“He’s not. I’ve been watching. And if he shows up, then he’ll get more than he bargained for. Now tell me where to go next.”

He pulled out his vibrating phone again, and this time he frowned as he tucked it back into his pocket. Part of me wanted to ask what it was all about, but I couldn’t handle courting more trouble.

It took us fifteen minutes to get to the side road I remembered from that dark, dismal night. Then I had him drive slowly until I recognized the light pole. Jed pulled onto a small drive about fifty feet down the road, so as to look less suspicious, no doubt, and then he popped the trunk. He quickly swapped his shoes for work boots, put on a pair of work gloves, and grabbed one of the shovels and a bag out of the trunk.

When he started to close it, I said, “I’m helping dig, Jed.”

He gave me a stern look, his hand on the still-open lid. “Like hell you are.”

“This ismyproblem.”

“Your problem is my problem now too, Neely Kate. The sooner you accept that, the better.”

I barely took a moment to absorb what he’d said.

“Jed,” I said quietly. “I need to do this.” I didn’t know why, and I sure didn’t know how to explain it, but my gut told me that I needed to be a participant in this, not just stand back and let it happen.

He watched me for a moment before grabbing the other shovel and handing it to me. “You can help until we find the body. Then I’m taking over.”

No problem there. I wasn’t sure I could handle digging around the body. “Okay.”

We walked down the side of the road until I saw the bushes, which were harder to recognize since it was dark and they weren’t flowering. Jed didn’t have a problem walking through the undergrowth with his jeans and boots, but I was still wearing my dress and sandals. When those azaleas had tumbled onto my desk, it had occurred to me that I might have to dig up the body. But it had seemed like a worst-case scenario. I’d hoped to show up in Ardmore and find out everything was okay. So even if Jed had agreed to drive back to the motel to change, I had brought nothing to change into.

The moon was mostly full and overhead, which helped light the road, but Jed turned on a flashlight and shone it around the ground behind the bushes, which were cast in deep shadows. “What do you think?”

I studied the ground and shuddered. “There,” I said, pointing. “I think he’s right there, but everything looks different, so I can’t be sure.”

He turned off his flashlight and tossed his bag to the ground. “That’s okay. Did you bury him to one side or in the middle?”

“The middle.”

“How big was the hole?”

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