tongue. Then Bill shot the man's other foot. Joe slumped, no longer able to keep his weight up.
“Get it over," said Melinda.
I love you guys," said Bill, looking over his shoulder. His face softened for a moment. "Kill him," said Melinda.
Bill shot Joe's knees out, then put bullets through both of the man's palms.
"He looks too much like Christ that way," Bill said. He shook his head. "Can't have that. This man is no Christ." He picked up the ax, lifted it, testing the weight. "Nice tool. Sharp and heavy." He walked to the tree and with a grunt, swung the ax at Joe's heaving chest. It smacked deep into the flesh and bone. Josh groaned and turned away.
"No more Christ,” said Bill.
"No more Fisherman Joe," said Melinda. Bill looked up at the man's face. He was indeed, dead. His mouth hung open. His eyes were glazed globes.
"Hmmm," said Bill. "And I had some other ideas." Beside Melinda, it was Josh's turn to lose control. He doubled up and barfed bile into the leaves.
Bill took the ax to the campfire and dropped it in the center of the flame. He collected the three pistols, wiped them off, and put them back into the van. "We were never here," he said to Melinda and Josh. "Get the tents, put them away. Douse the fire, stir it up. I'll take the Toyota, you two the van. We found Katie's body in the ghetto. You understand me? Then the justice system can begin its tailspin."
The tents went into the van, all traces of camping packed and swept away. Fisherman Joe remained tied to the tree.
"If he can feed the buzzards," said Bill, "then his life wasn't a total waste."
"Now," said Bill as he closed the hatch of the van. "Let's get Katie."
As the three walked through the dogwoods and down the knoll to the stream, Bill caught both Melinda and Josh's hands and gave them a squeeze. "Thank you. Greater love has no man than he who will help take a life for a friend." He was nearly giddy in his torment.
Josh and Bill gently lifted the butchered body from beside the jam of logs and leaves. One shoe fell from the dead woman's foot into the water. As Bill and Josh carried Katie up the bank toward the van, Melinda followed alongside the creek to catch the shoe and take it back with them. No evidence could be left. Melinda grabbed a stick from the bank and tried to reach the shoe but it floated on, just out of reach.
The creek made a sharp turn around the rock shelf on the other side. Melinda, holding branches so not to fall in, went around the turn, watching the shoe.
She stopped.
She dropped the stick she was holding.
From somewhere behind, up at the campsite, she heard Josh call, "Melinda! We have to get out of here! Hurry up!”
Katie's shoe was snagged on a small creek rock within reach. Several yards beyond the shoe, lying on the creek's bank with its head split open was a black bear. Melinda took several steps closer. Her lungs were caught on the spikes of her ribs.
The bear's paws were splayed out, one on the ground, one across its chest. The ax-sharp claws were clotted with blood. A hank of red hair was tangled in one set of claws.
Katie's hair.
Melinda stepped into the stream and picked up the shoe. She hurried back to the campsite, where the van and car were turned around, engines revving.
As she climbed into front seat she was careful not to glance into the back where Katie lay wrapped in a tarp. But she did look at Fisherman Joe on the tree, mouth open and still, his expression one of terror and righteousness.
I never seen her!
"Let's go," Melinda said to Bill.
I never killed her, I killed….
She leaned against the door and closed her eyes. The van hit the road and sped toward the city.
What Happened When Mosby Paulson Had Her Painting Reproduced on the Cover of the Phone Book
M ail was in.
Elliott Mitchell stepped out onto the front stoop, pleased and shocked, as he usually was, at the cool roughness of the concrete beneath his bare feet. From the mailbox he pulled assorted flyers and bills,
“Get it over," said Melinda.
I love you guys," said Bill, looking over his shoulder. His face softened for a moment. "Kill him," said Melinda.
Bill shot Joe's knees out, then put bullets through both of the man's palms.
"He looks too much like Christ that way," Bill said. He shook his head. "Can't have that. This man is no Christ." He picked up the ax, lifted it, testing the weight. "Nice tool. Sharp and heavy." He walked to the tree and with a grunt, swung the ax at Joe's heaving chest. It smacked deep into the flesh and bone. Josh groaned and turned away.
"No more Christ,” said Bill.
"No more Fisherman Joe," said Melinda. Bill looked up at the man's face. He was indeed, dead. His mouth hung open. His eyes were glazed globes.
"Hmmm," said Bill. "And I had some other ideas." Beside Melinda, it was Josh's turn to lose control. He doubled up and barfed bile into the leaves.
Bill took the ax to the campfire and dropped it in the center of the flame. He collected the three pistols, wiped them off, and put them back into the van. "We were never here," he said to Melinda and Josh. "Get the tents, put them away. Douse the fire, stir it up. I'll take the Toyota, you two the van. We found Katie's body in the ghetto. You understand me? Then the justice system can begin its tailspin."
The tents went into the van, all traces of camping packed and swept away. Fisherman Joe remained tied to the tree.
"If he can feed the buzzards," said Bill, "then his life wasn't a total waste."
"Now," said Bill as he closed the hatch of the van. "Let's get Katie."
As the three walked through the dogwoods and down the knoll to the stream, Bill caught both Melinda and Josh's hands and gave them a squeeze. "Thank you. Greater love has no man than he who will help take a life for a friend." He was nearly giddy in his torment.
Josh and Bill gently lifted the butchered body from beside the jam of logs and leaves. One shoe fell from the dead woman's foot into the water. As Bill and Josh carried Katie up the bank toward the van, Melinda followed alongside the creek to catch the shoe and take it back with them. No evidence could be left. Melinda grabbed a stick from the bank and tried to reach the shoe but it floated on, just out of reach.
The creek made a sharp turn around the rock shelf on the other side. Melinda, holding branches so not to fall in, went around the turn, watching the shoe.
She stopped.
She dropped the stick she was holding.
From somewhere behind, up at the campsite, she heard Josh call, "Melinda! We have to get out of here! Hurry up!”
Katie's shoe was snagged on a small creek rock within reach. Several yards beyond the shoe, lying on the creek's bank with its head split open was a black bear. Melinda took several steps closer. Her lungs were caught on the spikes of her ribs.
The bear's paws were splayed out, one on the ground, one across its chest. The ax-sharp claws were clotted with blood. A hank of red hair was tangled in one set of claws.
Katie's hair.
Melinda stepped into the stream and picked up the shoe. She hurried back to the campsite, where the van and car were turned around, engines revving.
As she climbed into front seat she was careful not to glance into the back where Katie lay wrapped in a tarp. But she did look at Fisherman Joe on the tree, mouth open and still, his expression one of terror and righteousness.
I never seen her!
"Let's go," Melinda said to Bill.
I never killed her, I killed….
She leaned against the door and closed her eyes. The van hit the road and sped toward the city.
What Happened When Mosby Paulson Had Her Painting Reproduced on the Cover of the Phone Book
M ail was in.
Elliott Mitchell stepped out onto the front stoop, pleased and shocked, as he usually was, at the cool roughness of the concrete beneath his bare feet. From the mailbox he pulled assorted flyers and bills,
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