Troy’s feelings about killing were different than other crimes. Other crimes were moves in a game. They came with inherent dangers, but they were only violations of manmade law. They required luck and finesse. In killing, however, he experienced no high. Killing disgusted him. Breaking Charlene’s nose, he remembered. Dragging her body, he remembered. But after he reached the pond, there was a blank except for her bloody face and blurred eyes wavering inches below the water’s surface. He didn’t believe he killed her. He was in a state of total disbelief, afraid that what couldn’t be true might trick him. He’d been tricked before. A picture rose out of his mother’s Bible of a sword and angel ready to smite him as soon as he stood up. He lay on the ground semiconscious, trying to escape the incontrovertible.
An hour passed before he wrapped the body in the blanket and carried it from the meadow into the aspen grove. With his boots he carved out a crude indentation in the ground. He dug deeper with a pointed rock. He put Charlene inside the shallow cradle and covered her with dirt and duff.
Troy was wired. His heart raced. He had to work out a new story, a new set of circumstances, moving as quickly as possible before the old story and circumstances caught up with him.
At the car, he removed his filthy clothes. He bundled them in plastic ripped from Charlene’s cousin’s dry cleaning. He put on the cousin’s clean pressed clothes. He checked the gas gauge. He kicked the tires. Charlene’s cousin’s car was only a year old with less than fifteen hundred miles. He unlocked the glove compartment and found a nine millimeter pistol and vehicle registration for Robert Russo. It felt like his car now.
He drove along the fire road without headlights. When he hit the highway, he turned north on the back road to Taos. After less than a mile, he turned on his lights and headed back to Zamora.
The highway wound around the mountain toward the village. He passed the bullet-punctured sign—zamora. It was after ten but the mercantile store was still open. A light shone over the front porch of the clinic. Pick-ups idled at the side of the church.
Troy pulled into Kate’s drive. He could use a word of encouragement, a shower, a beer, a bowl of chile and tortillas. He intended to repay the cash he borrowed plus interest. Maybe Kate would even be glad to see him.
He strode to the house, one pocket stuffed with money, the other with a small firearm. He ran the hose over his hands, splashed his face, pushed on the door. He looked at the tidy empty room. Decidedly emptier and tidier without him.
“Kate!” he called.
Ruby appeared from her room, scowling. “What do you want?”
“Where’s your mother?”
“None of your fucking business.”
“I guess I’ll wait and make it my fucking business.” He walked to the fridge and removed the six-pack of Coors he’d bought the week before. He found crackers, cheese, peanuts.
“I got my money from Texas,” he said, taking a roll from his pants and throwing it and the gun on the bed. “IRS suspended its lien.” Troy looked to see if he was making an impression. “I decided to drop in before I left for Maui.”
“Nice,” Ruby boiled, glancing at his attire. Maybe Hawaiian style, maybe not. A blue dress shirt with a silk-screened photo of Elton John on the pocket, double-creased dress slacks two inches too short, and dirty boots.
“I thought your mom might think so. I brought $450, enough to get the phone fixed.”
“My mom feels sorry for strays,” Ruby smirked.
“You got an ugly fucking mouth, you know that?”
“Did you come back for your dope too?”
“What dope?”
“The fucking poison you hid in my mom’s sewing machine.”
Troy had almost forgotten his escapade at the clinic.
“It wasn’t even pot, dummy,” Ruby taunted.
“Of course it was.” There he went, slipping up.
“Dr. Tanner checked it out. It was smack and shit.”
That was a surprise.
“Dr. Tanner said it was bad shit.”
“He should know. It was his smack, his shit.”
“They’ll be back soon. You can ask him.”
An image of Charlene sucking him off flashed, followed by a cramp in his fingers as he held her under water. Lightning, then thunder.
“What you mean they?” He pinned Ruby against the wall.
Her face contorted. “They went to the opera.”
“Your mom with the doctor?” Troy asked incredulously. Kate the slut was already fucking the Jew doctor? He hoped he didn’t have to kill David Tanner too.