PillowFace (24 page)

“Books.” 

“Huh?”

“I want to go to the bookstore.” 

Smiling, Carlee said, “You got it.” She disappeared behind the door. 

Haley tossed her pencil across the office. “So much for that plan,” she muttered. 

(II)

Geoffrey Jones parked his car a mile from Haley’s house.  Leaving it on the side of the road, he stuck a white t-shirt in the door and shut it, hoping to give the impression that it was stranded.  He thought about leaving a note saying
please don’t tow me,
but it would have been too hard to write with the cast on.

The mile hike would be hard in his expensive shoes, but worth it.

He glanced at his car one last time, beaming over the spot he’d pre-selected to park his car.  Last week on a long lunch, he’d driven out here to find Haley’s house, and had concocted a plan.  He’d learned right away the dog would be a problem, so he’d returned on Sunday and fed it a poisoned hamburger patty.  The risk was mind shattering, because Haley was at home when he’d done it, but it must have paid off.  Word around the office was the dog was dead.  He hadn’t planned on putting his plan into motion so soon, but oh well, shit happens. 

As he started away he heard his cell phone ringing from inside the car.  Ignoring it, he assumed it was either his wife, Margie, or someone at the office wanting to know where he was and why hadn’t he come in yet. 
I can come in whenever the hell I feel like it! 
Margie was a different matter though, but she could easily be handled later.  If she showed any signs of resentment at him for not coming home last night, he’d just have to remind her of how much money he put in the bank account each week. That usually shut her up pretty damn quick. 

He decided to use the woods for shelter as he walked. The damp grass whipped at his pants leaving lashes. As he entered through a shaded area, his right foot came down in some fresh mud, swallowing his shoe.  “Shit!”  He pulled his foot out, but the shoe remained stuck.  His black sock now had a tear in it. 
Great, a perfectly good sock ruined! 
He found a dry spot on the ground, and crouched low.  He stretched his arms, trying to get the shoe, but it was just out of reach.   He could see the tongue of his loafer protruding from the mud like a hand reaching for help.  “Two hundred bucks going to putt!!”  He should have gone home first and changed clothes, maybe into a sweat suit and some sneakers, but that would have taken even more time, and he was already running behind. 

The bookstore had held him up longer than he’d anticipated. 

He found a stick in the grass and using his left hand, poked it into the mud like he was stoking a fire.  He held his right hand in the air, trying not to get any mud on the cast.  That would be hard to explain.  He already had enough to explain away as it was. 

After a few jabs the shoe was loose enough to grab. 

The damn thing was caked in mud; all but the interior of the shoe was filthy.  He slid his foot inside. 

A branch snapped. 

He gasped, and quickly shot around, only to find a rabbit hopping away from him.  He slowly exhaled through his tightened lips.  “Damn rabbit.”  He adjusted his suit–the same one he wore to the book sale—fixed his tie, and marched onward. 

Haley’s house was the destination he had in mind. 

(III)

When Haley and Carlee arrived at the bookstore, they couldn’t force themselves to leave the car. They stared in shock, neither of them speaking a word.  A single tear spilled from Haley’s eye. 

It was awful, absolutely horrible. 

“What happened?” whispered Carlee, unable to raise her voice any higher. 

The condition of the store should have been enough for Carlee to not have needed to ask at all.  Its twisted features and charred-black boards, a shattered door hanging on a frame without a building behind it, and opening to nothing but snaking plumes of smoke. Between two other shops that stood untouched from the flames, the book store was a broken cavity between two crowns. If the girls still weren’t completely sure what had happened
after all of this evidence, the dozen or so firemen shuffling through the ashes and rubble making two piles, one for salvageable books and another for not a chance in hell books, the not a chance pile was three times higher than the other, should have been the final clue they needed to solve this mystery.

Haley only shook her head, because saying it aloud made it true, and perhaps if she were to keep quiet, then it wouldn’t have really happened. 

Haley stepped out of the car, as if in a trance.

“Wait,” said Carlee.  “Where are you going?” 

Haley drifted to where the debris met the sidewalk.  She stopped in front of some firemen.  The tallest one of the bunch, a man probably in his fifties, stopped what he was doing and looked at her. 

“Don’t come any further than that,” he said.  “Too much for you to hurt yourself on.” 

“How did this happen?” she said, her voice flat. 

“Caught fire sometime early this morning; we think it was arson.” 

She couldn’t swallow.  “Was anyone…hurt?” 

“No, and damn lucky, too.” 

She felt her stomach relax a bit.  “Where’s Alan?” 

“The owner?” She nodded. “Over there.” He pointed over her shoulder to the right. A bench next to a Dogwood was a good twenty yards away.  Alan sat there, staring at nothing, his eyes glassy like a man coming down from a terrible high. Haley recognized it for what it was, the same way she and Joel had looked when they’d learned their parents had died. 

“Are you a friend of his?” She looked back at the fireman and nodded. His face was black with soot except around the eyes which made him look like a six foot tall, albino raccoon. “He could probably use someone like you at a time like this.” 

The fireman was right. “I’m going to check on him.” She didn’t know why she felt the need to inform the fireman of her plan, but his approving smile made her feel as if it was well deserved. Then she offered him a, “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” He turned back to the wreckage and shuffled about, kicking at some serrated pieces. 

She neared the bench. Alan’s attention was hooked elsewhere. She thought about placing a hand on his shoulder, giving him a tender squeeze, but was afraid of scaring him half to death. “Alan?” She spoke softly. 

He glanced back at her. His eyes were brimming with tears. Black smudges were peppered across his face, wavy lines where tears had passed and dried cut between them. He attempted a smile, and it was a decent one, but not one of his best. 

Lucky he can smile at all
. 

“Hey,” he said. 

“My God, are you all right?” 

He shrugged, turned away.  “I don’t know what I am.” 

She walked around the bench and sat right beside him, their hips touching. She put an arm around him. “I’m here.” He smelled like a spent campfire of rotten wood, but she didn’t care, she was happy to touch him again, hoped she could offer some sort of comfort.

He looked at her. “You have no idea how good it feels for you to be.” 

She smiled and felt her eyes starting to water. “I hope it helps somehow.” 

Nodding, “More than you realize.” He laid his head on her shoulder. She cupped her hand over his face and began stroking his cheek.  “It’s gone, Haley, all of it.  I lived in the loft upstairs, and I have nothing left!” 

He began to cry.  She’d never heard a man cry before and there was something extremely sad about it, such defeat and misery. After listening for a while, Haley joined him.  She wished she had something to say that would help, but what could she offer him at a time like this? 
Nothing.
It was just the same when the lawyers and the doctors tried convincing her life would be kosher without her parents.  She’d actually believed them, but they’d been wrong, so very, very wrong.  How could anyone make such a specious promise?  She wouldn’t do that now, because she couldn’t guarantee him that anything would ever be fine again.

(I)

“Fresh?” 

On one knee beside the loose soil, Carp nodded. “Yeah, the dirt hasn’t even dried up yet.” He patted the dirt. “Soft like a tilled garden.” 

“So, something
was
buried here.”   

“Judging by the layout, I’d say that’s a pretty good assumption.”  The area was six foot in length, and four in width, the perfect size and location (under the hanging branches of an oak tree) for a shallow grave.  Carp looked up at Buddy through squinted eyes.  He could see the vague appearance of worry, and possibly even fear on his leader’s face.  That was unnatural for Buddy given
any
circumstance. 

“Looks too small to be Face, though,” added Carp. 

“I don’t know, unless he was dismembered.” 

Carp grimaced.  “Chopped up?” 

“Exactly, shit for brains. You act like that could never happen.  How many have
we
done?  Thirty?  More?” 

“I’d say more, easily.” 

“That’s right, so I wouldn’t put it past someone else to do the same.”  Buddy began to investigate the area, moving about quickly and alert.  He looked at the trees, the
grave,
and the ground around it.  He circled the site twice before crouching across the way from Carp.  “Found something.” 

“What is it?” 

“Tracks.” 

“No shit?” Carp sprang to his feet, darting over the sinking dirt to join Buddy. Over his shoulder, he saw the perfect imprint of a size nine sneaker.  “Looks like a kid’s.” 

Buddy smiled, “Yep. I’d say Converse.” 

“I doubt someone this size could have gotten the drop on Pillowface.”

“I told you to stop calling him that.”

“It’s what he
wants
to be called.”

“He punishes himself with that name…”

Carp studied the prints.  “Those tracks probably belong to a little boy.” 

“Not necessarily.  These days, girls dress just like boys and the boys dress like the girls. Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference.”

Wrong Buddy, there’s one easy way to tell a difference.  You make them take off their pants. 

Carp looked to the right and spotted something else just as interesting.  Another kind of print, and much, much larger.  A fifteen boot, Army issued.  “Buddy, look at that.”  He pointed to a newborn tree that had most likely been working its way above ground for years.  It was a thin piece, a couple of tiny branches developing with maybe three leaves sprouting on each.  The print was at its base.

Buddy kicked the tree over as he settled in front of the other footprints.  “Now, these definitely belong to Face.” 

Carp studied a tight path from the tree and found more.  “Looks like they’re walking together.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, I see two sets, one small and one big, but both appear to be walking next to each other right up this way.”  A hill careened down to a thinner section of the forest.

“Makes no sense,” Buddy said. 

“Should we dig up this hole?” 

Buddy stood up.  “You better believe it.” 

They went to their bags and found their shovels.  Small, easy to carry, but depending on how deep this grave was they’d be a bitch to use.  Plus, the handles were metal and would be shit on their hands. 

Down on their knees, they each picked a side and began digging, tossing the dirt wildly behind them.  They weren’t planning to refill it when they were done, so the requirement to make a pile was absent.  After fifteen minutes, Buddy found the body.  Slower and more vigilant, they unearthed the remains of a female body.  They stopped digging once they exposed her legs. 

“Looks like she might have been a pretty girl,” said Carp, gliding his fingers in over the gelid skin of her thigh. 

“Was.” 

“She still is.  Could be useful in a pinch.”  Laughing, he patted her leg.  

“A pinch only your sick fucking mind could enjoy.”  Buddy shook his head.    

“Check this out,” said Carp.  He spread her legs to show Buddy the furry body underneath.  “A dog.” 

“Maybe she was killed with her dog.” 

“I’ve never known Face to kill an animal.” 

Buddy shouted, stabbing his shovel into the ground.  “None of this makes any goddamn sense and I’m a fucking wizard when it comes to abnormal.”  Carp only nodded.  “I mean, look at this, some woman buried with a dog.  Two sets of tracks, one obviously Face’s, but the other is some kid, or a very small adult leaving the scene together.  It’s all fucked up!!” 

“Big time,” he agreed. 

“Put your shovel up.  We’re going to find out where these tracks go.  Maybe it’ll lead us to Face.” 

“You got it.” 

They packed up in less than a minute and quickly got out of sight, because what they heard off in the distance were voices. 

Kid’s voices.
 

(II)

The boys, along with Pillowface, wandered up on the opened grave.  Ethan was the first to notice the pair of legs poking out of the shallow hole like roots.  “What the hell is that?”  He froze, the color draining from his already insipid face, making him look even sicklier. 

Somehow, Joel knew even before he saw that Ethan had discovered Tonya.  He wasn’t as worried about what his friends would say and do as much as he was terrified over how the hole had been opened.  There weren’t any kind of animals big enough to dig it up…or were there?  Actually, Joel wasn’t sure what kind of animals were in these woods.  He’d never come across anything bigger than a fox, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t anything bigger than that. 

Paul stopped walking.  Using his hand as a visor, he placed it on his brow to shield his eyes from the sun.  “A hole or something.” 

“I can see that, but what’s
in
it?” 

“How am I supposed to know that?” 

Joel kept quiet as they approached.  He and Pillowface shared fretful looks, both wondering what to do when the guys realized it was Tonya’s body in the pit.  Ethan stepped onto the loose soil, caught one look at the lower half of the naked body, and turned away to vomit.  Body heaving, the contents of his stomach splattered at his feet. He glanced at Paul for a moment, and then fainted in his puddle. 

They grimaced.  Not just at Ethan’s unfortunate landing spot, but also the smell of the puke and decomposing body melding in the scorching heat.  Joel had been sweating profusely the entire hike, but now, he was shivering.  His spine felt as if it were being strummed with icy fingers.  His testicles retracted against his abdomen.    

“It’s Tonya, isn’t it?” asked Paul. 

Joel nodded.  

Sighing, Paul stepped over Ethan like he was just a rock and walked around to the other side of the hole, then got on his knees.  He sifted through the dirt with his hands, eagerly pushing it away to see what was underneath.  When he finished, he leaned back on his knees, and placed both hands on his hips.  “I knew she had tits, but damn I didn’t think they were
that
big.”  

Joel stared at Paul, repulsed. 

Paul shrugged his shoulders.  “Cut off her head, huh?  Well, you had to do what you had to do.”  He sighed like a man talking about the weather.  “Remember all those nights we spent at your fence, watching her bedroom with binoculars?” 

Of course Joel remembered. It was exciting, the thrill of being caught, the possibility of seeing her
naked. 
They’d never succeeded, but one time Joel was blessed with seeing Mrs. Cantrell practically naked. 

Late one Friday night, Joel and Paul were taking turns spying on the house through the binoculars when the back
door suddenly opened.  Afraid of being caught, Paul had quickly ducked down, but Joel risked being caught and was thankful that he had.  Tonya’s mother had stepped outside to smoke a cigarette naked, well not completely, she was still wearing pieces of a nightgown or something.  It looked as if it had been shredded, and sections of her skin showed through the holes.  She’d seemed bushed, out of breath, her skin slick with sweat.   Joel had always thought Tonya was the gorgeous one, but after that night, he knew he’d been wrong.

Joel noticed the wicked grin on Paul’s face. The morbid wheels of Paul’s mind were turning. He leaned forward, and reached into the hole. Before Joel could ask what he was doing, Paul had cupped a breast in his hand.  “Wow.  It’s still soft.” 

Disgust churned through him, but somewhere else, he also felt the heat of jealousy.  Paul had tramped on his grounds. 
Don’t think like that.  It’s wrong, it’s sick!! 

He cleared his throat. “Stop it.” 

“Why?  It’s not like its bothering her.” 

“It’s sick.” 

“Oh, sure, and what did
you
do with her before putting her here?” 

“I didn’t do anything to her.” 

“Right.” He slid his hand down her stomach, flicked away some ants, and fingered her navel. “I wonder…” He rubbed her groin. 

“Stop it!” 

Paul laughed, then abruptly stopped as Pillowface moved towards him.  He stood up, holding out his hands. “Sorry, I’m sorry!”

Joel reached out as if his arm could stretch like Mr. Fantastic’s from the Fantastic Four.  “No, Pillowface!!” 

He grabbed Paul by the shoulders and slung him against a tree.  There was a vicious cracking sound when he hit.  He ricocheted off the tree, landing in the brush, his feet sticking out from underneath it.  Joel thought for sure he was dead.  He realized he was holding his breath, so he exhaled.  Everything around him was teetering.  He wondered if he was going to faint. 

Joel ran on flimsy legs to where Paul lay. He got down on his knees and examined him. Paul’s feet stirred, twitched.  He was breathing. 
Thank God. 
With tears in his eyes he looked at Pillowface.  “Why’d you do that?  Huh?!!  He’s just a kid!!” 

Pillowface lowered his head, shamefully staring at the ground. 
             

Joel looked up at the tree Paul had struck, and saw that bark had split and some chunks were missing.
Broke the damn tree.
He crawled out from under the bushes. 

Pillowface put his shoulder against a tree to sustain his weight, his chest rising and falling profoundly. 

Joel watched him worriedly. 
He’s losing a lot of blood
. 
He might die. 
He looked at his friends. One was passed out in his own puke, and the other unconscious. He got down on all fours by the hole and began scooping dirt back in.  As he worked, he tried to think of something to do about them, but couldn’t get his mind to stop focusing on Pillowface. 

The hole was only halfway full when he stopped. He went to Pillowface, and pulled an arm over his shoulder.  He decided to leave Paul and Ethan there for now, then come back and check on them in a little while. If he could at least get Pillowface inside and cleaned up, Joel could return to the woods while he patched himself up again. He felt guilty about it, but it was all he knew to do. He was exhausted and scared, but not enough that he couldn’t recognize he wasn’t thinking clearly. 

“Come on.” Joel and Pillowface moved on, going much slower than they already had been. 

****

Pillowface glanced back at the bush, ignoring Paul and Ethan, because of the footprints he’d spied around the exhumed grave.  Two sets of army issued boots, size ten and eleven. 
Buddy and Carp. 
He looked at Joel, wanting to warn him that hell was coming in a pair.

****

Buddy and Carp came out of hiding, both surprised.  Sure enough, Face was courting around with a kid. Carp watched them leave, wondering why Buddy had stopped him from confronting the duo.  “I don’t understand why we just didn’t rush out …”

“We need to assess the situation Carp; you of all people should understand that.” 

Carp looked back at the grave. 

Buddy was already trying to wake up the kids they’d left behind.  “I’m sure we’ll find out plenty from one of these little bastards.” 

When the fat one flinched Carp grinned. He was ready for some fun.  

(III)

Jonesey took a used pair of Haley’s panties from the hamper and sniffed them.  His eyes fluttered, savoring the aroma of her natural juices.  He thought about licking them, but didn’t.  That would just be weird.

He felt jittery, and couldn’t stop shaking.  There was a constant drone in his ears as if he’d been at a very loud concert.  His throat clucked loudly, but not from fright. 
Adrenaline. 
The rush of being somewhere he shouldn’t be, in a house with no one at home, and all of Haley’s possessions for him to play with. 
Should’ve been here a long time ago. 
He stuffed the dirty panties in his pocket, then left the bathroom.