Page 86 of Trailer Trash

“About three or four feet. We didn’t lay him flat.”

“Stand by my bag, and I’ll tell you when you can help. Our goal is to leave the site as undisturbed as possible.”

I watched as he shoveled a huge clump of weeds up and set it to the side, working until he’d cleared about a six-by-three-foot space. Then he started tossing piles of dirt and clay under the azalea bushes.

“Okay,” he said, “you can help, but put the dirt into a pile under the bushes if you can. We want to make it as hard as possible to find this site.”

“Okay.”

Jed was much faster and more efficient. He moved several huge shovelfuls of dirt to my measly amount, but he never suggested I was in the way or that I should let him do it.

“You’re pretty good at this diggin’ thing,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m kind of scared to ask how you got so good at it, but if you’re ever lookin’ for a job, Bruce Wayne’s always looking for help with the landscaping business.”

He looked up at me with a grin. “I’ll be sure to put in my résumé.”

About ten minutes in, Jed was now standing in a two-foot-by-four-foot trench.

I stood on the side so I wouldn’t get in his way. Watching him work, I couldn’t help but think that he was almosttoogood at this. His naked chest had looked like some kind of sculpture this morning, and that upper body strength probably helped, but even so . . .

He looked up at me. “My grandparents’ farm.”

“What?”

“I know where your mind’s going, but I got plenty of experience diggin’ posts and ditches at my grandparents’ farm.”

I couldn’t help but grin at that.

About five minutes later, he stopped and looked up. “I think I found something.”

I’d done a good job of telling myself we were just digging a hole up to this point, but now I was about to come face-to-face with the man I had murdered. Any way I looked at it, this was bound to be bad.

I stood to the side, telling myself I couldn’t vomit, even though a stench had begun to fill the air.

Jed pointed to his bag. “There are a couple of masks in there. It won’t help entirely, but it’ll help some, not to mention it’ll help protect us from the bacteria and shit we’re diggin’ up.”

I turned on the flashlight and searched through his bag until I found a bunch of painter’s masks. I handed one to Jed and put the other on myself.

“I need the flashlight now,” he said. “You can hold it or I can prop it up, but I need to be more careful about where I’m digging.” I appreciated that he wasn’t babying me. He was treating this as a job that needed to be done—no more, no less—because he knew that was what I needed from him.

“I’ll hold it.” It was the least I could do. I’d insisted on helping, but now every part of me was shoutingrun. But I was tired of running from this. I wanted it settled and left in the past for good.

I held up the flashlight and watched as Jed became more careful with his digging. Pretty soon, I saw what looked like the dirty bed sheet.

“Did you wrap him up in the sheet?”

“Yeah.”

He nodded and kept digging until he had more of the sheet uncovered. “Where did you bury the bag?”

“At his feet.”

“Which direction?”

“That way.” I pointed to my right.

We heard a car engine in the distance, and Jed grabbed the flashlight and turned it off. “Get down.”

We waited for thirty seconds before the sound faded into the distance.

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