Ch. 21 | Where the Bodies Are Buried

Elaine was out on this sunny day with Jamison in tow. In his summer boots, no less. She was incredibly grateful the old goat hadn’t fought her too hard putting them on. In this weather, she didn’t want his poor paw pads to burn. She loved their walks—as did he. Good exercise, good sunlight, and more importantly, a chance to stay on top of what was happening in the neighborhood.

She wouldn’t call herself nosey. At least not in an obvious way. She just liked knowing her environment. Admittedly a byproduct of growing up in chaos. But in her mind, this was a harmless way of settling that low-level anxiety about what might be lurking around the corner.

About two miles in, Elaine found herself near Jerry and Lynn’s place.

She hadn’t seen them in a few days, which was… slightly weird.

Maybe they’re out of town, she thought. But that would be out of character. Elaine was their de facto pet-sitter for Oliver—their charismatic ginger tabby who acted like he paid the mortgage. She’d grown to like him, even though Jerry wasn’t exactly on the up and up.

She liked Lynn just fine, but Jerry had a bit of a temper. Especially when he was on the nose candy. Thought nobody knew, but Elaine had been around long enough to recognize the signs. And Jerry wouldn’t know discretion if it pimp-slapped him in the face.

Maybe I should stop by and say hello, she thought, but then shook her head. Silly girl, she muttered. You just turned 68. Now is not the time to become the neighborhood Karen.

Maybe one of the kids is watching Oliver.

But as she got closer to the garage, something stopped her cold. A strange odor hung in the air—thick, sour, wrong.

What in God’s name is that?

She looked down at Jamison. The blind dog was sniffing hard, nose lifted like a bloodhound.

Elaine’s gut clenched.

She walked straight to the garage keypad and punched in the code she always used when she cat-sat. The beep of each number made her nervous.

The garage door whirred to life, slowly inching upward.

The smell hit her full force. Her eyes watered. She staggered back a step.

The garage itself was spotless. Only Jerry’s Mercedes sat parked.

The smell was coming from the car.

Elaine hesitated. Then moved.

She walked over to the driver’s door. Tried the handle.

It opened.

A shiver ran down her spine. She knew this was a breach of privacy—but something was wrong. If her neighbors were in trouble, she had to act.

Muttering a quick prayer, she reached down and pulled the trunk latch.

The stench hit her like a slap. She gagged. Tears sprang to her eyes.

Still, she moved forward. Slowly.

Her hand trembled as she reached for the trunk.

It opened.

And she screamed.

A blood-curdling, soul-deep scream that ripped through Lago Tierra.

Inside the trunk—bound and gagged—were Jerry and Lynn