The Drive-By Wife, Books 1, 2 & 3 by Mike Wells

Author:Mike Wells
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: psychological thriller, obsession, stalker, crime novel, grateful dead, domestic abuse, deliverance, married couple, truck driver, cape fear, deadhead, enfatuation, romantic obesssion
Publisher: Mike Wells

Chapter 3.3

Allen stopped walking in the sand and glanced around, greatly relieved—this was the exact spot where he had actually buried the body, he was sure of it. He had been walking for what seemed like an hour, unable to find the landmarks he had memorized, and was about to give up.

But there they were, he had found them—the cactus that looked like a man holding his thumb out, hitchhiking, and the two boulders...

Trembling from the stress, Allen raised the shovel and prepared to dig. He moved a little to the left, lining up the objects exactly the way he remembered them, and plunged the blade into the sand.

It seemed looser than it had on his first visit, which gave him more confidence that he was digging in just the right place. After he had unearthed about a foot of it, he used a rock to prop up the flashlight at the edge of the hole he was making. Despite the crisp air and stiff breeze, the exertion had made him perspire in a cold, clammy sweat. He glanced over at the duffel bag, his nostrils flaring, debating whether to put on the mask now—he already thought he could smell the dark, telltale stench of decaying flesh.

Now he almost wished he hadn’t ever had this brilliant idea.

Knowing the body was now only a few inches under his feet, he stopped his aggressive plunges and began to shovel the sand out more carefully, scooping it up with the blade almost parallel to the earth, so as not to slice into any…tissue. He didn’t want to make this any more unpleasant than it already was.

He carefully removed another foot of sand, now fairly sure he had reached the depth at which he had buried the body.

This is it, he thought. He reached up and wiped the sweat from his brow, and then grimly resumed his scraping. With the next careful movement, the shovel hit something.

It was hard, whatever it was. He thought it was a rock. With the next scrape, the shovel blade touched the object again. It made a strange, hollow sound.

Allen frowned. He reached up and took hold of the flashlight, shining the beam on the spot, scraping the sand away with the shovel…

He bent down and peered more closely...it looked like the edge of a can. A coffee can, maybe…

Allen dropped the shovel and squatted, pulling the object free of the sand. He wiped it clean—it was a coffee can, all right, with a plastic, snap-on top. For one crazy moment, he wondered if he could have unearthed a can full of money...only what kind of a coincidence would that be, out here in the middle of thousands of square miles of nothingness?

Except for the spot the shovel blade had nicked into it, the can looked new.

It felt light as a feather. He shook it up and down. It seemed completely empty.

Allen carefully peeled back the plastic top. Picking up the flashlight, he aimed the beam inside.

At the bottom of the coffee can was a folded-up piece of paper.

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