Chapter 44
RUE
The ringtone blasts through the silence, neither of us moves.
“We should probably check that,” I say, my eyes dropping to his pockets. “But I really don’t want to get…that… on my hands.” I gesture to the darkened denim. “I don’t want to be anywhere close to—”
“I’ll get it,” Noah cuts me off, stepping toward me and gently moving me off to the side. My tennis shoe hangs on Bill’s knee, and I glance down.
Uh oh.
“There’s blood pooling everywhere,” I point out, as Noah fishes the phone out of the dead man’s pocket.
“Yeah, that’s what happens when you shoot someone.”
“Hmm. I don’t want to try and clean that up.”
“Fair enough.” Noah finally frees the phone and then tries to unlock the screen. “Shit. It’s passcode protected.”
“Let me see it,” I hold out my hand. “It can probably be unlocked using his face.”
“Huh, that’s cool. Never had that option back when I had a cell phone.”
“Yeah, a lot happened in the last decade.” I eye him as I lean over Bill’s body and angle the screen to capture his face. “Good thing I went for the neck,” I add, as the screen unlocks.
I straighten up and then stare at the background of his phone. A picture of his farm fills the background. I don’t bother with searching the contents.
I don’t want to know what’s there.
“Who called him?” Noah’s voice keeps my head on track. “Did they leave a voicemail? Old people always leave voicemails.”
“I’m looking right now,” I hum, clicking the phone app. I see the missed call first. “Jimmy.” I pause, my mind running back to the parking lot of the gas station. “I wonder if it’s the same Jimmy that he talked to…”
“The cop?” Noah connects the dots.
“Maybe.” As soon as the word leaves my lips, the notification pops up for the voicemail. I turn it so Noah can see, and then click to listen, putting the phone on speaker.
“Hey, Bill. Hope you made it home okay. Sorry you had to head home early from your camping trip. I was thinking I would stop by this evening and bring by the devotional material for Sunday. Anyway, I’ll probably be there in about an hour.”
“An hour,” Noah deadpans. “He’s going to be here in an hour.”
I nod and then glance back toward the door. “I guess we could hide the truck and camper.”
Noah shakes his head. “No way. More than likely, Jimmy talked to him, which means that it might be suspicious, even if we have it staged like Bill isn’t home.”
“Plus, Buster is here, too,” I add, my skin starting to prickle with panic.
Noah’s eyes sweep the floor and then the house. “Our DNA is going to be all over this house. There’s nothing we can do to get rid of it in an hour.”
I nod. “Yeah. I don’t think I have any on file.”
His jaw ticks, his gaze jumping to me. “But I do.”
“They’re going to know we went back east.”
“Yeah.” Noah’s already on the move, heading back for the bedroom. He starts gathering our things and sliding back into new clothes. “Take anything you want from here,” he calls out to me. “But only if it fits in the bags.”
I’m still standing over Bill in the hallway, blood seeping around my tennis shoes. “Are we going to take the truck?”
“No,” Noah says. “We’d have to unhook it from the camping trailer, and then, on top of that, the moment Jimmy gets here, it’s going to be reported as stolen.”
“So then…”
“The motorcycle,” he finishes, stepping back out into the hallway with our things. “We’re going to take the motorcycle, and we’re going to get out of here right now.”
I nod, suddenly finding the will to move. “I have one more thing I want to do.”
“What’s that?”
I step over Bill and go for the room that we haven’t entered in days. I use my fingernail to unlock it from the outside, and then push the bedroom door inward.
“What are you doing?” Noah sounds impatient, but I ignore him.
Without looking at the actual contents, I rip the top drawer out completely. “I just think the world needs to know exactly who Bill is. Don’t you think?” I give Noah a slight smile, and then dump a few of the photos onto his body.
“They would’ve found them anyway…” Noah’s eyes follow me, his voice trailing off. “But this will keep them off our scent at first, yeah.”
“And I just think the world should know.” With that I set the drawer down, careful as to not get too much blood on it. I don’t want the blood to ruin the evidence. “I’m sure they’ll find plenty on his phone though.”
“Maybe,” Noah’s voice is flat, as he takes in the scene. “But we really need to get moving.” He places a hand on my shoulder, as my eyes trail over the body one more time.
I killed him. Noah knocked him out, but I killed him.
It leaves a sick feeling in my gut, but I don’t get a chance to dwell on it, as Noah guides me away from it all, blocking the view with his body.
“Let’s raid the pantry one last time,” Noah’s voice is monotone, and completely devoid of any emotion at all. “We need to get whatever it is that we need and leave.”
He’s being repetitive.
“I know that,” I tell him, scrunching my brows. “You already said that.”
“Yeah, but I’m going to keep saying it, because both of us are at risk of going into shock right now from this whole shitshow. That’s the last thing we need.”
“I’m not going to go into shock,” I mumble, letting him damn near push me to the kitchen. “I’ve done this before.”
Noah pauses, and then lets out a light breath. “I know. I have, too, but we’re under a lot of stress right now.”
I open up the pantry and grab what makes sense to take with us, filling up the remaining space in the open backpack. “This should be enough…”
“It’s going to be an uncomfortable ride.
” He glances down at my shoes, and then across the floor, letting out a sigh.
“No footprints. That’s good. Come on. I didn’t have a chance to test out the bike again.
It could die on us.” He talks faster as we head for the backdoor, his nerves becoming more apparent.
Maybe Noah is going into shock.
“If it doesn’t start, we’ll take the truck and camper, dump the camper somewhere along the way,” Noah keeps talking, shaking his head as we dart across the yard. Buster, the dog, is nowhere in sight.
Probably back to taking care of the goats or something.
When we reach the barn, Noah slides the door open and steps inside. He heads straight for the bike, weaving around and leaving me behind.
I watch as he hops on the modified thing, immediately trying to start it. It kicks to life on the first try, and Noah turns to me.
“Look for straps, and I’ll grab a couple of helmets I found in the storage area.
We’ll tie off to the sissy bar.” He starts stacking and adjusting, folding the motorcycle tarp tiny enough to fit in his duffel bag.
I find two small straps in one of the tops of the toolboxes and return to him, helping him tie everything off.
Then, he swings his leg over and pats the back of the small cushion, “Come on. We need to get out of here.”
“We didn’t even check if the plates were up to date,” I reason.
“I did. They are.” Noah reaches out and tugs at me. “Let’s go.”
I nod, swing my leg over, and cling to Noah like my life depends on it.