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SEVENTY-TWO

Claire’s eyes pleaded with him, but he had no sympathy. Besides, Barbara would suffer even more with Claire’s death on her conscience.

He locked her inside the dark room, then made his way into his private inner sanctuary to wait until the cops had gone. Instead of engines firing up to leave though, a few minutes later, he heard another motor.

Looking through the tiny window, he saw headlights then a pick-up truck careen down the drive and park. Two men dressed in jeans and ranger’s hats stepped from the vehicle, a dog by one of the men’s sides. The shaggy-haired ranger walked over to that female detective, the one he’d seen on the news, and the other cop who looked more like a fed. The detective gestured around the exterior of the house and the ranger nodded.

A litany of curse words rolled off his tongue. Shit. He’d thought they were finished. But now they were going to do a full search outside.

They’d probably find Claire’s husband. Not that he cared.

That stupid wimp Joel had been nothing but a suck-up to his wife. Even when he told him what Claire and the other women had done, he’d fought like a dog to protect Claire and the kids.

Tossing him in the river had been a good move. Maybe they wouldn’t find him and he’d rot there forever with the fish and snakes.