Chapter 86
APRIL
Lucy’s visit to the coffee shop was hazardous and could potentially flip everything on its head. But I didn’t think she had any hard evidence. If she or the police did, they’d already have been at my front door.
Plus, if Lucy ended up behind bars, she couldn’t do shit.
I knew what I had to do.
At ten p.m. that night, I drove back to the Little League field and parked in the lot. I then doubled back and walked in the direction I’d just driven. It took me about three hundred yards to arrive at the place where I thought I’d thrown the gun.
I carefully made my way down the shallow ravine. Once there, I turned on the flashlight I’d brought. Obviously, I was wearing the requisite gloves for when I found the gun.
After ten minutes of looking, I started to get frustrated. I knew I was in the right area, and even though it was nighttime, the flashlight should have found the gun. It’s not like I’d buried it. I’d tossed it down the ravine, and I was sure it was still sitting on the top of the soil.
On the rare times I saw car lights approaching above, I’d turn off the flashlight. And there was a less than zero chance that anyone would be joining me down in the ravine. There was nothing down here to see.
Unless you were looking for the murder weapon you wanted to use to frame Lucy Sykes for murder.
Finally, after fifteen minutes of looking, I located it. A few leaves had found their way on top of it, and they were probably why it had taken me so long. I pulled my gloves tighter to my hands—as if that did anything—and reached down for the gun.
Once I had it in my possession, I trudged back up the shallow ravine and left it on the dirt, just before the dirt met the side of the road. It would be visible to anyone.
I walked back down to my car.
I drove past where I’d left the gun and was on my way home.
A few minutes later, a thought came to mind.
What if someone just finds the gun and takes it home? Or doesn’t report it to the police?
It’s not like I could report it from my cell phone. Were payphones still a thing?
I drove around looking for one.
Wouldn’t that be suspicious as hell also? Who uses payphones anymore? Why would someone call the police from one? And there was another problem that came along with that. They’d have my voice recorded. Sure, I could try to disguise it, but can you ever truly disguise your voice?
I decided it would be best just to go home. The gun would undoubtedly be seen in the morning hours. I just prayed that someone turned it in to the LAPD.
And then Lucy Sykes would be fucked!