Bones Don’t Lie by Melinda Leigh Read Online (FREE)
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August 10, 1994
Bangs and muffled screams sounded from inside the trunk of the Buick. Standing in the weeds next to the vehicle, he stared at the closed lid.
Oh, well. A minor miscalculation. Didn’t matter. This would all be over soon.
“Let me out. Help!”
He scanned his surroundings. No one in sight. Inky black in the darkness, the murky water of Grey Lake stretched out for miles. The crescent moon cast a pale light on its rippling surface. Thick forest fringed its banks. There were no buildings nearby. But there was always a chance of someone camping in the forest. His gaze swept the bank of the lake, but he saw no flicker of campfires, no brightly colored tents. No sign of human activity.
The public park, beaches, and boat ramp were two miles to the south. The wilder north end of the lake saw little activity.
A mosquito landed on his arm, and he swatted it away. Three more took its place.
The warm August day had cooled in the evening, but the summer stickiness remained. Frogs croaked, and something small splashed. The tall grasses around the lake buzzed with insects. To the billion gnats and mosquitoes that lived here, his warm body was a free meal.
“You can’t do this!”
The pleas for help triggered no guilt. No remorse for the series of events that had led him to this moment. His only regrets were the risk and inconvenience he’d brought upon himself.
But then, his lack of a conscience was one of the reasons he was here in the middle of the night.
He’d done things tonight he couldn’t undo. Things that would ruin his life if anyone knew. His only option was to clean up the mess.
Besides, he’d be lying if he denied that killing a person wasn’t exciting. He wasn’t planning on doing it again. But there was a thrill, deep in his veins, over the control, the sense of power that came from extinguishing another human life.
More banging from the inside of the trunk. The vehicle creaked as weight shifted. Something metal struck the underside of the lid. Tire iron? Like that would do anything.
“Please. I’ll do anything. Please let me out.”
The plea was desperate.
And for good reason.
He ignored the cries, opening the driver’s side door and sliding behind the wheel. He started the engine, lowered the window, and stared at the lake ahead. The bank fell away on a steep grade. He knew the lake’s bottom sloped to match the rapid descent. The water grew deep quickly. Farther out, a tiny sliver of moon reflected on the surface.
The Buick idled, its ten-year-old engine knocking and pinging. With the car door still open, he hesitated, his foot on the brake.
He eyed the brick on the floor. It would hold the gas pedal down when he was ready.