09/02/2022
If you haven’t read The Evil I Have Seen, here’s a sample from the story Deadly Cocktail, based on a double murder/kidnapping and r**e case back in 1981.
**
It was too early in the day to be so damned hot. I shifted my shoulders and rolled my neck, reactions to sweat sliding down my spine, dripping off my brow, stinging my eyes. The late-morning sun scorched my face and arms. When I stopped walking long enough to mop my forehead with my sleeve, I gave myself a talking-to.
“Tomorrow’s the Fourth of July, for crying out loud. What do you expect?”
Somewhere, people were packing picnic baskets and popping firecrackers. Celebrating. They were a long way from where I was—shin deep in a tangle of blackberry vines, saw briars, privet, and sumac filling the ditch of a lonesome logging road deep in the belly of the Big Woods.
Looking ahead, getting a lay of the land, a swarm of flies caught my eye, maybe a hundred-fifty feet ahead on the other side of the rutted red dirt road. I lifted my sunglasses and squinted. Beneath the swarm, I thought I saw something—something that did not belong. Rushing forward, forgetting the heat, humidity, and sun, as the hum grew louder and louder, I became certain I would find what I was looking for. Blow flies deposit their eggs in decaying flesh. They are as good as any cadaver dog.
Halting a few feet from the swirling, buzzing green flies, I saw her naked body half-hidden by thorny brush, flies, and ants crawling on her porcelain skin, feeding on her breasts, her shoulders, her neck, and face. Her face. He had not hurt her face. My God, she was—she had been—a pretty woman. Late twenties. Maybe early thirties. Tall. Slim. Voluptuous. She lay sprawled on her back, her eyes closed. That was a relief.
For whatever reason, it is a little easier when their eyes are closed.
This is the man who killed her. And her husband.