Disintegration (32 page)

A pipe wrench.

She could almost see the police report:
Blunt head trauma, followed by asphyxiation due to drowning.

Jacob's latest accidental victim.

And who would be next? Joshua? Carlita? Or would he plant more seed, each sprout insured for a million dollars?

"Hold her for a sec." Joshua got out of the driver's side and went to the back door. He yanked it open and leaned in, his breath sour with beer and cigarettes and the lingering tang of salsa. "Come here, sweetie."

Renee backed away, kicking, until she was across the seat. Joshua climbed in, and now she recognized that perverse grin, one glimpsed in the dim light of a night nearly a decade ago. The night of Mattie's conception.

She shoved her foot toward his face. He caught it and his eyes twinkled in the greasy dome light, the cut on his forehead oozing blood again. "Hmm. She still got a little fight in her. Tempting me to go one more round. What say, brother, wanna watch just for old times' sake?"

Jacob yanked her wrist. "I can fantasize about it later. Right now, we better get her in the river."

Joshua's face sagged, his smoker's wrinkles deepening. "Reckon so. Give the water more time to wash away evidence."

"Besides, we'll still have Carlita."

Renee wondered if they would play this sick game the rest of their lives. Swapping partners, playing with money and murder, tricking each other. But that was the future. She had none.

Joshua dragged her by the ankle. She grabbed for the armrest but it came off in her hand. Her fingernails broke as she clawed at the nylon seat covering. No saving grip there.

Jacob released her and got out of the car to join his brother. She knew this was her final chance. The passenger door was open, though it seemed miles away.

She twisted upward, reaching for the front seat, but Jacob had her other leg now and she was being worried between them like a butcher-shop bone in the mouths of two dogs.

"Treat her like a wishbone, brother," Jacob said.

"I'm wishing for two million goddamned dollars. On three. One... "

She wriggled, nothing.

"Two... "

"Jacob," she said. "Honey?"

But the word was a lie. Even his name was a lie. He had always been Joshua.

"
Three.
"

She was jerked into the moist night.

***

"Do her," Joshua said.

He had Renee pinned to the rail, shoulders leaning toward the river, facing the whispering, frothing water below. Jacob tested the heft of the pipe wrench. How would she hit if she had actually fallen?

No, not "if." When.

Think it out, Jakie, just like always. Momma's cane... an accident. Could have happened to anybody. Anybody with a murderous son, that is.

Christine. That one had been the saddest. But she was barely formed, not even talking. All I did was save her from the life of a Wells. So that was a mercy killing.

Mattie. Too bad about her. But she was Joshua's fault all the way, from sperm to burn victim.

The moon was out, the clouds like violet sheep counting down to a restless sleep. He wondered if blood would spatter onto the bridge railing. He'd have to strike her at an angle, so the pattern would fly out and into the water.

"Smash her up," Joshua urged. "Just like you did the chickens."

The wrench grew heavy in Jacob's hand. "I didn't do the chickens."

Joshua, holding Renee's arms behind her back, his crotch pressed against her rear, gave a thrust of his hips, causing the wooden railing to squeak with their combined weight. "Hell, yeah. You went donkeyshit, brother. Chopping their heads off, licking blood from the hatchet--"

"Stop it."

Red
. The night had gone from purple to red.

"You're one sick fuck, all right."

"Shut up. That wasn't me. It was never me."

"Tell it to the judge. I got a date with two million bucks."

"I was only doing what you'd do, if you had the brains." Jacob gripped the wrench so tight his hand hurt. The metal was slick with his sweat. He thought of the fingerprints he would leave behind. And the DNA, which he shared with Joshua. The DNA one of them had passed to Mattie.

And maybe Christine. He didn't know how often Joshua had slipped into his bed over the years.

The blood in the Chevy would be Joshua's. The cops would figure it out. Even though Jacob had the same blood.

"Do it, Jakie," Renee wheezed from constricted lungs. "Just like we talked about."

Joshua turned toward him, his face as twisted as the rubberized troll heads hanging from the rearview mirror. Confusion. The dumb bastard had been late out of the womb, and had always been two steps behind his entire life.

Jacob swung the wrench.

"B
lood everywhere," Jacob said, mopping at the stains on the railing.

"No murder is perfect."

"And you should know."

"Live and learn. I guess you should go get Carlita. Think you guys will be happy together?"

"What do you care? You're getting what you want."

"Sure." With Joshua dead, Jacob would inherit the house. As Jacob's wife, no one would question her receiving it in the divorce settlement.

Jacob leaned over the railing. "He's downriver now. As drunk as he was, nobody will question a fall."

Renee glanced at her husband's exposed neck, alabaster in the moon's warm glow. The wrench lay on the seat of the Chevy. She could have it out and bring it down in a matter of seconds.

No. She loved him. And because she loved him, he owed her plenty.

Besides, another "fall" would be too coincidental. Divorce would be much cleaner.

Jacob didn't know it yet, but Renee planned on taking the two million, too. It wasn't blackmail. It was simply the price of pain and suffering.

"Go to Carlita," she said.

Jacob came to her, took her hands. He almost kissed her. Then he glanced up at the hill, where the Wells house stood dark and brooding, as if remembering some memory tucked in a far, dusty closet. The first flickers teased the windows, and smoke drifted on the air. Davidson and her crew would be on the way soon, late as always, left to sift through the ashes of the Wells family secrets.

"See you in court," Jacob said. He walked around the Chevy and slid behind the steering wheel. He looked at home there.

He grabbed the wrinkled pack of cigarettes and stuffed one in his mouth. He lit it, then reached under the seat and pulled out a beer. Warm, it sprayed foam all over his pants when he pulled the tab. He reached up and tapped the twin rubber heads, sending them swinging.

Jacob would never be Joshua, but he would enjoy trying.

He reached for the ignition and the engine burst to angry life. He shifted and backed the car off the bridge, waving before turning off the dome light.

Renee watched the headlight beams bouncing up the road.

She patted her belly.

She'd never mentioned it to Jacob. Three months along.

Of course, on one of those dark nights, it could have been Joshua who entered her bed and rode her into pregnancy. Stranger things had happened.

Not that it mattered.

A Wells was a Wells, after all. One was as good as the other.

And, if things didn't turn out as planned, there was always life insurance for the child.

A woman lived and loved, and a woman often lost. But, no matter what, a woman always learned.

THE END

I have written 12 novels, including
The Red Church, Speed Dating with the Dead, Disintegration,
and
The Skull Ring
.

Other electronic works include
Burial to Follow
and the story collections
Ashes, The First, Murdermouth, Gateway Drug,
and
Flowers.
I live in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina, where I write for a newspaper, play guitar, raise an organic garden, and work as a freelance fiction editor.

Come to the Haunted Computer, become a Spooky Microchip, and help me build my next book. You'll also find writing tips, free fiction, and survival tips.

Talk to me at
[email protected]
, "hauntedcomputer" on
Twitter
, or
hauntedcomputer.blogspot.com
. If you enjoyed this book, please tell your friends and give another Nicholson title a try. If you hated it, why not try another one anyway? What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, and what
does
kill you is probably lurking in my next book. Read on for more.

THE RED CHURCH

Book I in the Sheriff Littlefield Series

By Scott Nicholson

Stoker Award finalist and alternate selection of the Mystery Guild

For 13-year-old Ronnie Day, life is full of problems: Mom and Dad have separated, his brother Tim is a constant pest, Melanie Ward either loves him or hates him, and Jesus Christ won't stay in his heart. Plus he has to walk past the red church every day, where the Bell Monster hides with its wings and claws and livers for eyes. But the biggest problem is that Archer McFall is the new preacher at the church, and Mom wants Ronnie to attend midnight services with her.

Sheriff Frank Littlefield hates the red church for a different reason. His little brother died in a freak accident at the church twenty years ago, and now Frank is starting to see his brother's ghost. And the ghost keeps demanding, "Free me." People are dying in Whispering Pines, and the murders coincide with McFall's return.

The Days, the Littlefields, and the McFalls are descendants of the original families that settled the rural Appalachian community. Those old families share a secret of betrayal and guilt, and McFall wants his congregation to prove its faith. Because he believes he is the Second Son of God, and that the cleansing of sin must be done in blood.

"Sacrifice is the currency of God," McFall preaches, and unless Frank and Ronnie stop him, everybody pays.

Learn more about
The Red Church
and the real Appalachian church that inspired the novel
www.hauntedcomputer.com/redchurch.htm

***

DRUMMER BOY

Book II in the Sheriff Littlefield Series

By Scott Nicholson

On an Appalachian Mountain ridge, three boys hear the rattling of a snare drum deep inside a cave known as "The Jangling Hole," and the wind carries a whispered name.

An old man who grew up at the foot of the mountain believes something inside the Hole has been disturbed by a developer's bulldozers. Sheriff Frank Littlefield, haunted by his own past failures, must stand against a public enemy that has no fear of bullets, bars, or mortal justice. A local reporter believes the supernatural mysteries are more than just mountain folk tales.

On the eve of a Civil War reenactment, the town of Titusville prepares to host a staged battle. The weekend warriors aren't aware they will soon be fighting an elusive army. A troop of Civil War deserters, trapped in the Hole by a long-ago avalanche, is rising from a long slumber, and the war is far from over.

And one misfit kid is all that stands between the town and the cold mouth of hell...

Learn more about
Drummer Boy
and the Appalachian legend that inspired the novel:
www.hauntedcomputer.com/drummerboy.htm

***

THE SKULL RING

By Scott Nicholson

Julia Stone will remember, even if it kills her.

With the help of a therapist, Julia is piecing together childhood memories of the night her father vanished. When Julia finds a silver ring that bears the name "Judas Stone," the past comes creeping back. Someone is leaving strange messages inside her house, even though the door is locked. The local handyman offers help, but he has his own shadowy past. And the cop who investigated her father's disappearance has followed her to the small mountain town of Elkwood.

Now Julia has a head full of memories, but she doesn't know which are real. Julia's therapist is playing games. The handyman is trying to save her, in more ways than one. And a sinister cult is closing in, claiming ownership of Julia's body and soul...

Learn more about
The Skull Ring
and False Recovered Memory Syndrome:
www.hauntedcomputer.com/skullring.htm

***

SPEED DATING WITH THE DEAD

By Scott Nicholson

A paranormal conference at the most haunted hotel in the Southern Appalachian mountains... a man's promise to his late wife that he'd summon her spirit... a daughter whose imagination goes to dark places... and demonic evil lurking in the remote hotel's basement, just waiting to be awoken.

When Digger Wilson brings his paranormal team to the White Horse Inn, he is skeptical that his dead wife will keep her half of the bargain. He doesn't believe in ghosts. But when one of the conference guests channels a mysterious presence and an Ouija board spells out a pet phrase known only to Digger and his wife, his convictions are challenged. And when people start to disappear, Digger and his daughter Kendra must face the circle of demons that view the hotel as their personal playground. Because soon the inn will be closing for good, angels, can't be trusted, and demons don't like to play alone...