Without thinking, I grabbed up a milk bottle. Her head was tilted back toward me as she tried to push up the hatch. I slammed the bottle against the back of her head. She fell like a side of beef. The coffee can lid popped off and the gems went flying. I scrambled after them, expecting her to come flying at me. Then I stopped. I looked at her. She lay still.
I went to her; knelt down, her chest wasn’t moving. I put my ear to her chest, nothing. I stumbled to my work bench and found a small mirror, I held it before her mouth nothing.
Deardra was dead.
I think I was in shock. I could feel my heartbeat outside my chest. I retrieved my maglite, and shined it down on her face. Her face was pale, her eyes staring upward, her mouth ajar.
I turned off the light, wishing I’d never turned it on. Her look will stay with me forever. I straightened her out, put her arms at her sides. Then, I lay down next to her, my forearm over my eyes, and thought about how all this came about.
I went over all the options I had. None of them were good. Finally, I knew what I had to do, I had to bury her in the dugout.
I cautiously climbed out of the dugout. This was no time to get seen. I made my way to our shed. There, I took the shovel down from the wall, looked around, and at the last moment put the small roll of heavy clear plastic under my arm. I hustled back to the dugout.
Back inside the dugout, I lighted a Colman Lantern. In the white light, I started to dig. I was sweating within minutes. I removed my t-shirt. When I was down three feet, I stopped and climbed out.
I stripped Deardra of her pajamas, then spread out the clear plastic. I rolled her nude body onto the plastic and closed it over her. My hands were wet with sweat making dragging her to the grave difficult. As gently as I could, I lowered her. My eyes blurred with tears, and I said a short prayer over her.
I could still see her eyes beneath the plastic looking up at me, accusing me.
I shoveled up her blood, she had bled profusely, I dumped it in the grave. Her coat had blood on it, but it had protected he pj’s. I knelt down, and used her coat to covered her face.
I gathered up all the gem stones I could find; I was short two. I dumped them in the jar with the bogus stones.The milkman uniform went into the grave along with the bottles, and my jewelry kit.
I had very little time before they started combing the area for her. With the exception of the gems, everything that was connected to the crime went into the grave. I set her pajamas to the side. Working on the edge of panic, I feverishly covered the body. Finally I was done, the dugout looked as it had before. I tamped down the dirt.
My family ate dinner at six, and it was 5:10 when I climbed out of the dugout. I returned the plastic tarp and the shovel to the shed. I slipped into the house, up the stairs and into the shower.
At the dinner table, I found I couldn’t swallow my food. I begged off and went to my room.
I lay on my bed, my hands under my head, and stared at the ceiling. Why, why, why? Why did I go to Thomas’, why didn’t Deardra go to church, why did she want the diamonds.
Why’s with no answers.
I set my radio alarm for 11:00pm. I kicked off my shoes and tried to sleep, but just dozed. At quarter to eleven I was up and moving. From the closet I got my dark blue hoodie and in my bottom dresser drawer a pair of black gloves. My jeans were dark enough, and my white Nike’s would just have to do.
I tip-toed down the stairs, through the kitchen, and out the back door. Once away from the house I turned on my pen light to light my way to the dugout. The field was covered with mesquite brambles. I covered the pen light with my hand, letting out just enough light to guide me.
I removed the hatch, and quickly entered the dugout. A lot of things needed to be taken out of there, but first and foremost was Deardra’s pj’s. I scooped them up and stuffed them under my hoodie. I climbed out of the dugout