Halfway to the Grave

Motherfucker. How had they tied me to this? How?

 

“I don’t know who your source is, but for someone to try and link me with this woman after six years is ridiculous. I was still in high school back then. Don’t you find it a little weird that all of a sudden, now someone is coming forward to say I left with this person?”

 

Mansfield allowed himself a nasty sneer. “You know what I find weird? How a nice girl like you got mixed up in this. What are they, Satan worshippers? Is that why they dug up a corpse and then dressed it in contemporary clothes? Some kind of effigy? These strange bodies are turning up in more places than one, too. Another one was found not too far from here about ten days ago. That one was a woman, and she’d been dead almost a hundred years! Come on, Catherine. You know who’s doing this. Tell us, and we can give you protection. But if you don’t, you’ll go down with them for accessory to murder, conspiracy, grave robbery, and kidnapping. Want to spend the rest of your life in jail? It’s not worth it.”

 

Wow, did they have some theories. Guess it made sense if they were looking at it from a purely human angle. Why else would someone dig up and then rebury a long-dead body? Because the person wasn’t really dead, of course.

 

“I’ll tell you what I know.” Anger and anxiety sharpened my voice. “I know I’m done listening to your crazy ideas about dead women and old bodies. You’re grasping at straws and I won’t be one of them.”

 

With that, I turned on my heel and slammed the door. They made no move to stop me, but Mansfield called through the door.

 

“I suppose you don’t know Danny Milton, then, either? How do you think we got your name? He’s the one who saw you leave with Felicity’s kidnapper at Club Galaxy six years ago. He remembers because he said the two of you got in a fight that night, and he didn’t tell the police about it back then because he was concerned about disclosing his relationship with an underage girl. He told Detective Black all about it on the phone this morning, however, after Detective Black stumbled across Danny’s police report stating your new boyfriend had crushed his hand by shaking it. Now, we don’t know how Danny’s hand got crippled. We know it couldn’t have been from a mere handshake. Did you take him somewhere and demolish his hand? Maybe to prevent him from talking? We’ll find out everything from him, believe me. And then we’ll be back.”

 

I waited until their footsteps faded before I sank to the ground by the door.

 

 

 

Having watched enough TV, at least I knew not to immediately pick up the phone and call Bones. The line could be tapped. They knew enough but still not enough. Their little scare tactic this morning had been staged to send me sobbing out a confession. Well, that wasn’t going to happen. For starters, it would be a great way to get an extended vacation in a padded room. One where I could tell all the lovely doctors who were pumping me full of lithium about monsters.

 

Instead, I dressed in black spandex pants and a long-sleeved tight top of matching material, completed with sneakers and a ponytail. Let them think I was going for a run in the woods. The mouth of the cave was difficult to find unless you knew where to look, which they didn’t. Besides, they couldn’t keep up with me at a run through that uneven ground if they tried. Mansfield would probably have a heart attack on the spot. He smelled like a chain-smoker.

 

First, I had to look like I wasn’t dashing right out to the scene of a crime. I went to the mall and shopped for an hour, my stomach churning inside. Then I left and started toward the cave.

 

When I parked the truck, I did it even farther away than its normal quarter-mile stop. Instead it was over four miles of wooded territory from the cave. In case I had an audience, I made a show of stretching and warming up as a normal jogger would. Then I sprinted away, going in large circles to confuse someone trying to pinpoint my direction.

 

After ten miles of sprinting, I darted into the cave. Bones was already walking toward me, a puzzled but pleased expression on his face.

 

“Kitten, didn’t expect you so early—”

 

He stopped, seeing my face. I threw my arms around him and burst into tears.

 

“What is it?”

 

He picked me up, carrying me swiftly through the lower entrance and depositing me on the couch. I got hold of myself enough to explain.

 

“Danny. Danny Milton! Damn him, he managed to fuck me again, and this time he kept his clothes on! I just got a visit from two detectives. Thanks to that schmuck giving them my name and telling them I left a club with a murderer, guess who’s their prime suspect in an unsolved crime involving a young woman and a strange mummified corpse? I think you’re going to need to drink them and change their minds, or I’ll never graduate college. God, they think I’m protecting an occult killer, you wouldn’t believe some of their theories—”

 

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