Chapter 7 Tally
TALLY
“A Chevrolet Spark wouldn’t be my first choice for a getaway car from a crime scene,” Rust says as he puts on a pair of work gloves and opens the trunk. “As evident, there ain’t enough space for bodies. Looks like a tight fit.”
“Thanks so much for the advice. Next time I plan to accidentally kill someone I’ll get a bigger car first,” I sass.
“How did you even get him in there? You played some real corpse Tetris.”
Frustration stabs at my insides. “And I won! Look, it’s all kind of a blur. Pretty sure I was in shock. I slammed the trunk door down until something cracked and he fit!”
“Why didn’t you fold the rear seats forward? Much easier.”
I groan. “I lost the fucking manual, okay? And driving around with a suspiciously body-shaped object visible through the windows wouldn’t be peachy, either. Now stop riding my ass!”
“If I’d actually ride your ass, you’d love it. And for the record, that beautiful rear of yours isn’t just deliciously plump and perfectly shaped. It’s a genuine work of art. It deserves its own velvet rope and bodyguard. I volunteer for the job.”
My panties dampen as I struggle to lift my jaw from my boots. Who gave that man a mouth like this? What happened to the boy who barely dared to ask for a kiss?
I put a hand on my waist, pretending I’m not flustered. “Unless you got something constructive to say, I recommend you tuck your tongue behind your teeth.”
He smirks. “Best I can do is tuckin’ it behind your teeth.”
“Last warning. Shut up or I’m gonna kick you in your genuine work of art.”
“To be clear, you’re using my analogy to subtly hint that you think I have a nice ass, too?” He rolls his hips exaggeratedly. “A museum-worthy ass, even?”
“I—what? No! That’s ridiculous. You’re twisting my words!” I cross my arms defensively.
Rust gives a smug hum. “Sure.” He peeks into the trunk. “Did the dead fella come with the empty bag of sour gummy worms and the empty beer can, too?”
“Those are my emotional support sour gummy worms and my emergency beer. I needed something to calm my nerves!” I snatch up the trash and throw it on the ground.
“Some things never change. What would the world say if they knew the famous country diva Tally Creed prefers beer over champagne?”
I kick up some dirt. “Don’t know. Don’t care. Rex would be fucking livid if it came out, though.”
Rust’s demeanor shifts on a dime. Rage rolls off him in waves and his hands ball into fists.
My brows quirk. What got him so pissed off?
The two men never met and Rust doesn’t know anything about my manager’s shitty behavior. Rex’s temper is one of the industry’s best kept secrets. Nobody on the outside could guess what he’s really like.
Rust takes a deep, shuddering breath. It seems like he forcefully relaxes his hands before he hauls the body from the trunk and puts it on the ground.
“At least you wrapped him up real good,” he comments, peeling off the tape I slung haphazardly around the bundle of remains.
“I always keep a roll of duct tape and tarp in my trunk cause you never know when you’ll need ‘em. Learned that from a certain cowboy.” I kick his boot softly.
He grins. “Smart guy.”
The thick plastic crinkles as he unwraps the corpse and my mouth pulls into a grimace.
Except a trickle of blood on his temple and a slightly twisted arm, the grey-haired man looks unharmed.
I must’ve hit him at a bad angle to kill him instantly.
He wears dirty jeans and a mottled brown sweater and I don’t even want to know when they were last washed. If ever.
But he was still a human. He was a real, actual human and I… I…
Tears well in my eyes.
“What have I done?” I whisper.
Rust gives me a worried glance. “You’re lookin’ a lil pekid, Trouble.”
“Cause I killed an innocent man! I ended his life! I terminated his existence!” I throw my hands in the air.
He hums, nonplussed. “It was an accident. From what you told me, he’s pretty much at fault.”
“You really think so?”
“I do. Besides, nobody’s truly innocent if you think about it.
Bet this fella had some skeletons in his closet.
” He pats the drifter down until he finds a ragged wallet in his pocket and looks through it.
“Five dollars. No ID. No photos. Lucky for you. That means nobody’s gonna miss him or come looking. ”
“He had a small bag too,” I say, gesturing at the car.
Rust takes a frayed cloth backpack from the trunk. He unties the top and a sour expression twists his features. “Forget about skeletons in the closet. This is so much worse. I think you shouldn’t feel too bad about killin’ him.”
My stomach flips. “Why would you… Let me see that!”
He shows me the bag and I gag. It’s full of female underwear in all shapes and sizes, glazed in a dry, milky-white residue. A few panties are small enough to belong to kids.
My guilt dissolves as I back away. “Ew! What the actual fuck? He was a sicko who steals underwear and gets off on it?” I holler. “Some of these look like they belonged to little girls. I should’ve hit him harder! Maybe backed over that disgusting freak for good measure.”
Rust nods. “I think you did a good deed in ending the fucker. When we get back, I’ll make a fire and burn all this.”
He ties the bag and discards it. Then he lifts the body over his shoulder like it weighs nothing and closes the trunk with his other arm. “It shouldn’t be more than a thirty-minute hike eastward. Once we get there, we—”
The rumbling of a motor cuts through his voice.
My head whips around. “Are you expecting somebody?”
“Yeah, I always invite guests ‘round my place when I got a corpse to bury. The more the merrier. Make it a fuckin’ group activity,” Rust snarks.
Adrenaline shoots through my veins. “What do we do? Oh fuck, we’re gonna get caught!”
The motor stops and a car door slams. “Rust? Where are you? My AC is giving me trouble again!” a man shouts and I think I recognize the voice.
“The Deputy!” Rust and I blurt out at once.
His eyes narrow. “Wait, how do you know each other?”
“He stopped me for a broken taillight last night.”
Rust snickers. “You got stopped by a cop with a corpse in your trunk?”
“That’s not funny! Bet he laid awake until morning, thinking something was off and he’s gonna figure it out this time! I can see the headline now: ‘Country star Tally Creed convicted of first degree murder!’ The pictures are going to be a disaster. I look horrible in orange!”
“Simmer down, Trouble. I ain’t lettin’ my wife go to prison.”
If I wasn’t focused on not passing out from panic, I’d be inappropriately swooning at the word ‘wife’ again, which clearly is a whole different problem. One best left for later. One I’ll probably get to ponder behind bars.
“You can’t fight the law, Rust!”
“No, of course you can’t. The law’s an abstract concept the brightest minds of humanity have been debating since mankind developed coherent thought.”
I give him a bleary-eyed stare. “What?”
“But I can hide your crime,” he adds confidently.
“At this rate, all you’re gonna accomplish is to get us both arrested! Put the dead guy in the barn!”
“Locked. Key’s in the house and you’d have to go past Deputy George to get it cause the backdoor is busted.”
“In the trunk again?” I suggest desperately.
“You barely stuffed him in there and I got no confidence that I’ll manage it in time without sawin’ off a few limbs. But I have an idea. You go and distract George.”
“Rust?” the Deputy calls out again.
I give a defeated sigh. “Ugh, okay. I’ll go.”
“Wait, do you have a pair of sunglasses?” Rust asks.
“Yeah.”
“Give ‘em here.”
I don’t even question him. He’s clearly insane, but I don’t have the time to argue. I pluck my aviator sunglasses from my purse and Rust takes them.
Nearly tripping over my own feet, I sprint toward the house. I round the corner of the barn and run smack dab into a wall that wasn’t there before.