chapter sixteen

word count: 528

Bud Kramer snapped off the latex gloves and switched off the recorder. The autopsy was done.

He found it only mildly surprising she had ended up on his morgue table. Obviously, someone wanted to keep her mouth shut permanently. As he suspected all along, the girl had been pregnant and given birth recently, only a matter of days. Looks like he'd found the lady who abandoned that baby. But she was dead now, and a probable accomplice was out there. Chances were that he was within the prison gates to have had access to both her and the cans. Specifically, access to the pantry. Bud saw empty containers there after he followed this girl the other day. The pieces were slowly falling into place.


Stan ran out of the junk yard like a madman. He needed to dump the car. After scrubbing out the blood the best he could, he'd headed straight to the lot to dump it before anything happened. He didn't know if it would work, but it was worth a try.

"Hey! Mister, wait!" The grizzly faced owner chased after him on wiry legs. Stan ran faster. He didn't want to talk to anyone. What a mess! What a mess! He strangled her and panicked. He'd swerved into the nearest alley, reached over to open the passenger side, and shoved the body onto the street. It was difficult. He ended up sending her out head first, and the last few seconds involved a lot of shoving and cussing until he finally got the gusto to push the last leg out and out of the way in order to close the door again. Sprawled all askew in the alley, she looked like a rag doll tossed aside in favor of a better toy. Jessica was there because he valued his freedom more than her. If he didn't stop her, she'd have spilled the beans.

He could still see her face when he strangled her as bone and body tissue snapped and felt limp in his hands. The eyes, her beautiful blue eyes, had gone suddenly lifeless, as quick as if he'd flipped a light switch. They failed to speak. They failed to express anything. He was holding that rag doll.

He hitched a ride to a car rental place and got some new wheels and headed back to work. His heart still pounded a nervous rhythm as his hands clutched the steering wheel tighter than need be. He was sweating with nerves pumping when he arrived back at the prison. Heading straight for Vic, he grabbed him by the collar and pulled the fellow's face close to his.

"Promise me, man! Promise me your guys got rid of that damned canister!"

"Don't worry! We can count on Jorge. He's done stuff for me before."

"You better hope so, or so help me, I'll kill you!"

"Stan, calm down! What's the matter with you?"

Stan glared back. "Nothing," he said. But if you've let me down, he thought, I'll be going to jail anyway, so I may as well kill you, too.