CHAPTER 16 #4
"No," I replied smoothly, a dark smirk touching my lips. "I want you to relish this kill. Follow me... I know just the spot to bury him."
I walked down the hallway to the third spare bedroom, pulling a heavy-duty, commercial-grade black vinyl body bag out of the storage closet. I brought it back to the balcony deck.
Ciara stepped right up beside me, completely unbothered by the gruesome sight, holding the heavy vinyl bag open while I heaved Morgan’s limp, cold body inside. We zipped the heavy black teeth shut, sealing his toxic existence away from the world forever.
I lifted the heavy body bag, flinging his six-foot frame over my broad shoulder as if he were a bag of laundry, and carried him downstairs to the driveway. Ciara followed close behind, carrying a heavy iron spade shovel I had directed her to grab from the porch shed.
We loaded the body into the back of my dark grey Jeep Wrangler, shutting the tailgate with a soft, heavy THUD.
At precisely 3:15 AM, we pulled out of the driveway, the Jeep’s tires crunching over the gravel as we ascended deeper into the dense, winding mountain trails.
The hills were pitch-black and eerily quiet, save for the howling mountain breeze and the rhythmic chirping of crickets. Silver moonlight filtered through the thick canopy of white pines, painting shimmering patterns across the hood of the Jeep.
Ciara reached across the center console, sliding her hand into mine, locking her fingers tightly with mine. I held her hand firmly, keeping my left hand on the wheel as we rounded a steep mountain turn.
"We are in this together," I said softly, looking over at her.
Ciara smiled, her dark eyes reflecting the dashboard light. "Together, Doc."
I knew exactly where I was driving. I was taking Morgan to a sacred, forgotten patch of earth three miles deep into the pine grove behind the lake—the exact same secluded clearing where I had buried Amanda Wilde.
I hadn't told Ciara about Amanda yet. She wasn't ready for that specific chapter of my ledger. But as I glanced at Ciara’s serene, composed face, I promised myself I would reveal that truth to her in due time.
Ten minutes later, I cut the engine in a small, dense clearing framed by massive oak trees.
I hopped out of the Jeep, walking around to the back. Ciara stepped out into the cool night air, grabbing the heavy iron shovel from the trunk and tossing it to me with a brilliant, playful grin.
I walked twenty feet into the clearing, stopping a few yards away from a small mound covered in wild clover—Amanda’s resting place—and drove the shovel deep into the rich, soft soil.
Because of the high organic moisture near the lake, the earth was remarkably easy to break. I worked with methodical, athletic efficiency, throwing heavy mounds of dark dirt to the side, my broad shoulders and back working in powerful rhythms.
Ciara walked over, sitting down comfortably on a large, moss-covered boulder a few feet away. As I dug, she began to sing softly into the quiet night air, her velvety, soulful voice floating through the pines:
"Oh, kiss me, beneath the milky twilight… Lead me out on the moonlit floor… Kiss me, down by the broken tree house…"
I paused for a second, resting my hands on the shovel handle, looking at her in absolute fascination.
She sat there in her pink silk robe under the moonlight, singing sweetly while her lover dug a grave for her dead ex-fiancée.
She was the most magnificent, unhinged, beautiful creature I had ever encountered.
After fifteen minutes of continuous digging, the trench was four feet deep.
"I think that’s deep enough, Doc," Ciara called out, standing up from the boulder. "Let’s throw the bastard in there. Honestly, even this is too good for him... we should’ve fed him to the lake sharks."
I chuckled softly, throwing the shovel up out of the hole. I reached my hands up, and Ciara stepped to the edge, grabbing my wrists with her small hands to help pull my heavy frame up out of the dirt.
"Thanks for that, babe," I said, brushing the rich brown earth off my arms.
"Don't mention it. Now let's throw his carcass in," she said with absolute delight.
We walked back to the Jeep, pulled the heavy vinyl body bag out, and dragged it to the edge of the pit. We tipped it over, letting Morgan’s body fall into the dark earth with a heavy, final THUD.
I grabbed the shovel, preparing to cover him up, but Ciara stepped right into my space, taking the iron handle directly from my hands.
"No... let me do the honors," she said, her dark eyes flashing with fierce pride.
She planted her feet, scooped up a heavy blade of dirt, and dumped it directly over Morgan’s body bag.
I stood back, watching her like a proud father, thanking the heavens internally for this unbelievable gift.
In a strange, profound way, Ciara Long reminded me so much of my late mother—her fierce loyalty, her complete lack of hesitation, her willingness to step into the dark to protect what she loved.
But Ciara wasn't my mother. She was my woman. My equal. My eternal partner.
For ten minutes, Ciara dumped dirt into the grave like the rent was due, working until the pit was completely leveled.
As a sudden mountain breeze hurled through the clearing, rustling the high leaves above, Ciara stopped, throwing her head back, closing her eyes, and inhaling the fresh, pine-scented wind.
"Ah... smell that?" she whispered, turning back to look at me with a breathtaking, radiant smile. "That’s new beginnings, babe."
"I have to agree," I said softly, stepping forward and taking the shovel from her hands. "Now let me finish up."
I spent five minutes smoothing out the topsoil, then gathered armfuls of wild purple mountain flora and fresh pine needles, scattering them carefully over the burial site until the ground looked completely undisturbed—the perfect natural camouflage.
While I packed the shovel back into the trunk of the Jeep, Ciara walked up beside me, her hands resting on her hips, her brow raised in thought.