quilt, she managed to drag him the ten feet down the hall. Having taken down the shower curtains from both bathrooms, she had sandwiched the vinyl under the quilt so no blood would seep onto the hall carpeting. Once inside the bathroom, she strained to get him into the tub. Careful not to allow the chain saw track to dig into the porcelain, she began sawing his limbs into foot-long pieces, humming an old Patsy Cline tune as she worked. His torso she attacked with a vengeance, the blood splatters from his ruptured organs making her grimace with disgust. Now, her butchering finished, she was bone-tired, but knew her work was just beginning.
Tym's remains had to be double-sealed in the bags and carried carefully to the car trunk. The bath and kitchen would have to be scoured, all signs of the murder scrupulously removed.
She kept a close eye on the clock, knowing Sean wouldn't be home until supper. It was a just past 2:30 when she began carrying what was left of her husband to the car. By 4:00, the kitchen was as pristine as it had been before she cut Tym's throat. By 5:00, the bathroom had been returned to order, although the tub was minus its shower curtain and there was a small knick in the porcelain. Dorrie shrugged. No one would know what had caused the nick.
After taking one last look at the bathroom, she went into the bedroom, got her pocketbook, and headed for the car. As the grandfather clock in the living room chimed 6:00, she backed out of the driveway. Soon thereafter, Dorrie Cullen tossed the first of Tym Cullen's remains into a dumpster outside the Lee County high school.
“You always wanted to finish high school,” she said as she got back in the car. “Well, leastways you'll finish up in one or two.”
Her next stop would be the dumpster at the high school up in Americus, 30 miles away. “Or three.”
She giggled.
* * * *
Bronwyn kept her eyes averted from the motel's office while Sean was inside registering them. She was too afraid—and too ashamed—to do more than stare resolutely across the rundown parking lot. When Sean skirted the front of the car and got in, she could not look at him.
“Number eight,” he said quietly.
She nodded and cranked the car. Her face hot, she drove to the shabby brown door and winced when she parked. The metal sign had lost one of its screws, for the number hung sideways, looking like the infinity sign from a popular medical drama of a few years earlier.
Sean touched her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “I love you.”
She took a deep breath and turned off the ignition. “I love you, too.”
“I know it's not the place you dreamed about, but it's all I could afford,” he said. Bronwyn could hear the hurt in his voice. “And...”
She turned to look at him.
“It's safer than the motels in town.”
She wondered if by “safer” he meant “physically” or “health-wise.” When he smiled sadly, she cocked her shoulders in helplessness. “I can't help thinking it,” she said, growing used to him picking her thoughts from the ether.
“Despite its reputation, they do have to keep the place clean. If it doesn't look clean, I'll get another room.”
She nodded, trying to smile, but her lips felt frozen. She looked away and could not stop the shudder than ran through her. The thought of going inside the motel room terrified her.
“Bronnie.”
She hung her head. “I'm sorry.”
He slid across the seat and took her into his arms, cradling her head in the hollow of his shoulder. When she began to sob, he tightened his grip. “Shush.”
“I can't go in there, Sean.” She was trembling, her hands clutching at his shirt. “I just can't!”
He kissed the top of her head. “Then we won't.”
She pushed back from him and looked into his face. Her eyes were thick with teardrops. “I...”
“No,” he said, putting a finger across her lips. “You don't have to explain. I understand.”
“But you paid your money and...” she said, her lips
Tym's remains had to be double-sealed in the bags and carried carefully to the car trunk. The bath and kitchen would have to be scoured, all signs of the murder scrupulously removed.
She kept a close eye on the clock, knowing Sean wouldn't be home until supper. It was a just past 2:30 when she began carrying what was left of her husband to the car. By 4:00, the kitchen was as pristine as it had been before she cut Tym's throat. By 5:00, the bathroom had been returned to order, although the tub was minus its shower curtain and there was a small knick in the porcelain. Dorrie shrugged. No one would know what had caused the nick.
After taking one last look at the bathroom, she went into the bedroom, got her pocketbook, and headed for the car. As the grandfather clock in the living room chimed 6:00, she backed out of the driveway. Soon thereafter, Dorrie Cullen tossed the first of Tym Cullen's remains into a dumpster outside the Lee County high school.
“You always wanted to finish high school,” she said as she got back in the car. “Well, leastways you'll finish up in one or two.”
Her next stop would be the dumpster at the high school up in Americus, 30 miles away. “Or three.”
She giggled.
* * * *
Bronwyn kept her eyes averted from the motel's office while Sean was inside registering them. She was too afraid—and too ashamed—to do more than stare resolutely across the rundown parking lot. When Sean skirted the front of the car and got in, she could not look at him.
“Number eight,” he said quietly.
She nodded and cranked the car. Her face hot, she drove to the shabby brown door and winced when she parked. The metal sign had lost one of its screws, for the number hung sideways, looking like the infinity sign from a popular medical drama of a few years earlier.
Sean touched her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “I love you.”
She took a deep breath and turned off the ignition. “I love you, too.”
“I know it's not the place you dreamed about, but it's all I could afford,” he said. Bronwyn could hear the hurt in his voice. “And...”
She turned to look at him.
“It's safer than the motels in town.”
She wondered if by “safer” he meant “physically” or “health-wise.” When he smiled sadly, she cocked her shoulders in helplessness. “I can't help thinking it,” she said, growing used to him picking her thoughts from the ether.
“Despite its reputation, they do have to keep the place clean. If it doesn't look clean, I'll get another room.”
She nodded, trying to smile, but her lips felt frozen. She looked away and could not stop the shudder than ran through her. The thought of going inside the motel room terrified her.
“Bronnie.”
She hung her head. “I'm sorry.”
He slid across the seat and took her into his arms, cradling her head in the hollow of his shoulder. When she began to sob, he tightened his grip. “Shush.”
“I can't go in there, Sean.” She was trembling, her hands clutching at his shirt. “I just can't!”
He kissed the top of her head. “Then we won't.”
She pushed back from him and looked into his face. Her eyes were thick with teardrops. “I...”
“No,” he said, putting a finger across her lips. “You don't have to explain. I understand.”
“But you paid your money and...” she said, her lips
Similar Books
