Page 96 of Clean Slade
I picked up one end of the rug, and he picked up the other, and together we carried the body outside and into his car. Then he drove us to the same pier we’d escaped from the first time, only this time, it was full of boats.
We took a cuddy cabin boat, and Slade steered us through the darkness and into the open ocean, our only light coming from the bright moon.
The roaring of the engine ceased, and Slade walked up to me and rubbed my back.
His touch was warm even through all my coat layers, and even though I wasn’t cold or scared, just empty, I still appreciated its softness.
“It’s time,” he said softly and unrolled the rug.
The body inside sprawled over like a limp marionette, the mask so tightly wound around his head that the eyeholes were down to his cheeks.
I had taken it off, looked him over to find traces of who he was, who he belonged to, but I didn’t recognize him, and he didn’t have any distinguishing marks on his body.
For all I knew, he was a ghost. Now both figuratively and literally.
Slade put his arms under the body’s armpits and edged him closer to the water. I jumped up and reached for the large stone I’d found on the pier.
“Good thinking,” Slade said as if we were discussing everyday business and not murder.
He went in with a splash, the weight of the rock carrying him down to the depths of the sea, where he’d hopefully stay for a long, long time.
I had no guilt or remorse. I only had this hollow part inside me that got bigger every time. It didn’t matter if the last three people I’d killed had been to protect Mac or myself. It didn’t care about my clear conscience. It only cared about expanding, reaching out to my limbs, spreading all over my body until I was numb everywhere.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Slade whispered, putting his arm around me again, and I shook my head.
“None of this is okay, Slade. None of it.”
“I know.”
My cheeks, mouth, and entire face strained, and I pulled away from him.
“You don’t know anything. How can you say that?”
“Then tell me,” he said, undeterred by my outburst.
I wanted to. I’d promised to. But…
I didn’t want that kind, soft, beautiful face and those piercing eyes to look at me with hate.
“You should have me arrested,” I said, sinking back into the seat I’d occupied for most of the ride.
“Then I’d have to havemearrested too.”
“I’ll cover for you. I’ll tell them I did it all myself.”
“And who would believe you?” he sat beside me and searched my eyes. “Who would believe a scrawny little thing like you could not only kill a man but carry him across town and into the water?”
“I’m not scrawny,” I said.
“You so are.”
“How about I punch you, and then we can see how scrawny I am.” I grit my teeth because, of course, I didn’t want him to do that.
I didn’t want to hurt him in any way, but I would. Eventually, I would. If it wasn’t tonight, it’d be one day in the future.
“I’d love to see you try.”
I didn’t think. I just did. I threw a punch his way. A pathetic excuse for a punch which, of course, he caught with his hand and used to pull me back into his arms as if he thought I needed it or something.
