Crimson Deep by Anthony M. Strong

Author:Anthony M. Strong [Strong, Anthony M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: West Street Publishing
Published: 2020-08-19T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 32

Frank Denning unloaded the gas cans from the rear of the van. Having the gasoline on hand was fortuitous, even though it had seemed like a wasted effort when they discovered the cabin’s missing generator. But sometimes things just work out, and Frank was pleased to have an easy way to dispose of the stolen vehicle. Not that he was looking forward to the six-mile hike back to the cabin. He had driven around for almost an hour looking for a good spot to dump the Transit, and eventually decided on a narrow, out of the way dirt road surrounded by dense woodland.

Frank uncapped the first container and approached the van’s cab, splashing the clear, pungent liquid inside, making sure to thoroughly soak the seats, steering wheel, and dash. It would not do to leave fingerprints or fibers that could definitively tie the vehicle to Frank. Fire was a good eradicator of such things. He dumped the last of the gasoline and threw the empty container inside before retrieving a second gas can and dousing the exterior of the vehicle. Next he opened the rear doors and sprinkled gasoline throughout. Satisfied that the entire van was drenched, he placed the remaining full can on the driver’s seat for good measure. This would, hopefully, explode when the flames reached it, all but guaranteeing no clues would be left behind.

Next he took a bundle of rags that he’d found in the rear of the van and wadded them up, lighting one end with a match before tossing the burning bundle into the cab.

At first, nothing happened, and Frank wondered if he’d done something wrong. This was his first time torching a vehicle. It looked easy in the movies, but in practice it was difficult. He wondered what he would do if the van wouldn’t catch fire, but then a bright orange glow lit up the cab, followed by hungry, licking flames.

Thick black smoke laced with lighter white wisps, was curling up now, pirouetting skyward on a hot updraft. The unpleasant smell of burning rubber permeated the air.

Frank took a step backward, then another, suddenly aware of the possibility that the van’s gas tank might blow. He didn’t want to be anywhere nearby when that happened. He retreated down the same dirt trail he’d driven in on, following it until the van was out of sight. At a safe distance, he glanced back, noting how the plume of acrid smoke was barely visible above the trees. Further away, beyond the woods, the smoke would be much more obvious, but tracing its source in such a remote location would be almost impossible. He felt a surge of satisfaction. This was a job well done. Now all he had to do was return to the cabin without being seen.

Frank walked for forty minutes, following the trail. Up ahead was the main road. It was lightly used, and he had seen only a few cars speeding in the other direction while he was looking for a good spot to dump the van.

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