SIX DEVIN
SIX
DEVIN
Emily made us some sandwiches on fresh sourdough and pasta salad. Not my favorite; I would have preferred something warm, but I guess this will do. I left her outside on her own this morning after breakfast while I did some work. Luckily the reception here is good, so I have data to do my research.
After all these years with Emily, she’s never thought to go through my laptop. Not that she would be able to access any of my folders with information she knows nothing about. I’ve learned to be careful. Always making sure to not keep anything that could be connected to any of the girls or my work.
I do all of my initial research on different computers and locations and store the important information in my head.
Not keeping a paper trail gives anyone even less reason to suspect me.
I have monitored police investigations closely on some of the girls found in the last decade, but no leads point to me in any way.
I guess it’s time to switch things up again. I can’t risk getting sloppy and getting caught. Maybe I’ll take some time off to cool things down around here. It’ll be difficult to keep my urges at bay, but it must be done. In the meantime I have plans for my last kill for a while.
I can feel her watching me. She thinks I’m so engrossed in other things that I don’t notice, but I do.
I always have. Years ago she stupidly told me she was in the garage cleaning things out for me.
It was after one of my ‘trips.’ Some blood pooled onto the carpet of the trunk afterwards.
Although I cleaned it up, the chemicals I use can take a little while to neutralize the smell.
After I got home, she seemed…distant. My car was vacuumed, and a neat stack of papers sat on the passenger seat waiting for me.
One thing was missing: a receipt. I had gotten distracted and forgot to get rid of it, but I knew she found it.
I knew that she smelled something odd, and when she asked me about it, I told her some food spoiled in the trunk after I forgot about it.
After that she never said a word. She didn’t need to; her body language told the entire story.
Now, almost a decade later, the secrets she’s holding onto are bursting at the seams. I can’t risk her piecing things together and trying to rat me out to the police. Even if she doesn’t know every detail or have any concrete evidence against me, I have to take care of things.
It’s time for her to join the others.
It seems like the entire campground is gathering around for the parade. There is a trail lined up through the place with flags, and other campers brought their own chairs to sit and watch. Trucks and golf carts line up at the entrance of the grounds with the participants of the parade.
Luckily part of the parade trail is right behind our cabin, so we can just sit outside to watch everyone pass by.
I crack open a cold beer and take a seat while others in the cabins and tents nearby get ready as well.
We haven’t met anyone yet, but there are different groups of people here this week.
Some are childless couples, like ourselves, families, or groups of younger people here with friends. I’ve made it a point to carefully watch a group of young college-age girls as they set up camp near our cabin.
I can see Emily watching me from the corner of my eye; I bet she thinks I’m going to do something to one of them while we are here.
Good. That thought will keep her distracted.
While she was busy packing at home, I made sure to bring my ‘travel’ bag and put it in the secret compartment of the trunk where she wouldn’t notice.
It’s a black tactical bag that I use for my trips.
She’s never seen it before, and it holds things I never leave behind unless I fly somewhere and can’t bring it with me.
In those cases it’s safely stored in my office away from prying eyes.
I don’t think I’ll need much from the bag anyway; maybe a pair of gloves and my hunting knife for good measure.
A little slip or misstep on these trails can be deadly enough to leave me a widow, and no one would question it; a little cliché, I know, but it’s quick, and there’s no mess for me to clean up.
Emily is not close to her family anymore and isn’t in contact with her sister, so no one aside from co-workers would question if she went missing.
The only hard part would be acting like I’m distraught and heartbroken over her accident.
Over the last 15 years I’ve done everything I could to show the world what a doting husband I am.
I’ve worked hard to maintain our lifestyle; we don’t fight or argue, we have a beautiful home and nice cars.
She can do anything and everything she wants with no pushback from me. It’s a perfect life; even she knows it.
For a July day there aren’t many mosquitoes around, and there’s a nice breeze rolling through the area.
The shade from the mountains and woodland makes the temperature comfortable.
Although I still appreciate that Emily chose a cabin over a tent for the week.
Sadly, in a couple of days she won’t be here to enjoy it with me.
I think I'll sell the house. Move somewhere else on the East Coast and start fresh. Maybe even find another clueless wife to keep up appearances again in time. My thoughts are interrupted when a loud bullhorn sounds and people start cheering. I guess it’s the start of the parade.
Now, where is Emily? She’s going to miss this stupid shit and be all pissy with me, like it’s my fault. The screen door behind me finally creaks open, and footsteps on the gravel approach me.
“Sorry, I was on the phone with June. Just some last-minute things before the rest of the week.” I don’t believe her. It’s a national holiday today, and I highly doubt her assistant would be calling.
Emily is the type of person to have everything organized and taken care of before taking any time away from work. She is meticulous, like me.
“Oh, I see. Well, I’m glad you got ahold of her. The cell reception is pretty good here, but it might not be while we are on the hiking trail or out kayaking later this week.”
We keep to ourselves for the entirety of the parade. I can’t really see her full expression under a ballpark cap she is wearing, but I can tell she’s not really focused on the activity this afternoon. There is something going on in her head; I’m sure of it.