I barely slept. I thought of every scenario of the good, bad, and ugly. I want so badly to just call the police and end it right now, but I can’t. It will get back to my nephew that I told them since I was the only one here.
I think about how I should act today. I have no idea if they are coming here first or if my nephew will just be waiting for the “deed” to be done. I almost don’t dare leave my room, even though I’m starving and barely had dinner last night. I look at the clock, and it reads 7:22 AM. I doubt he’s even up, but who knows. I’d better check.
I grab my robe, open the door as quietly as possible, and tiptoe down the hall to his bedroom. I peer in and see him fast asleep. Sometimes, he’ll sleep in late when he’s been out partying. When they left yesterday, I didn’t hear him come in until late, so he could sleep for a few more hours. This gives me time to get something to eat and maybe go outside for a bit. He doesn’t let me out often, and I miss the breeze on my face and feeling the warm sun.
I return to my room, change into some comfortable pants and a blouse, and put on my shoes. I look in the mirror and notice my slivery shoulder-length bob needs a wash and wish I could put some makeup on my wrinkly skin, or at least put on some lipstick and rouge and maybe some eyeshadow to bring out the blue in my eyes. I feel like I’m also shrinking. I’m not too tall or short, about 5’7, but lately, I feel more hunched over. I don’t like getting old, and I don’t like the meds my nephew makes me take for my supposed dementia. They make me tired and forgetful; maybe that’s his plan.
I go slowly down the stairs and hope nothing creaks. I get to the bottom and let out a small sigh. The day is bright, with the sun streaming through the kitchen. I hope he went shopping.
I open the fridge and see some yogurt and grab it. I then check the pantry and find some oatmeal and granola – my favorite. I take it out, pour some in a bowl, and turn on the hot water so I don’t use the microwave. I find a spoon and sit down at the table and eat. I almost devour the breakfast and drink some lemonade.
After, I slip out the back door and into the perfect day. The sun is bright, the birds are singing, and I see my rose bushes all blooming. At least I have a sprinkling system that automatically turns on to water my lawn and plants. I close my eyes and let the sun beat down on me. I should have put on sunscreen, especially given my history of skin cancer ten years ago, but I don’t care right now. I’m nearly 70, and if the good Lord wants to take me, so be it. I feel like a prisoner in my home and wish I could run away.
I take out my phone and surf social media for a bit.
A while later, I notice the sun peeking over the mountains and realize I have been out here for at least an few hours, but it feels so good. Still, I don’t want to upset my nephew, so I’d better go in. I open up the sliding glass door and shut it quietly. I don’t hear or see anyone, so I go back up the stairs and see he’s still asleep. I feel somewhat tired even though I’ve only been up for a few hours, but I also didn’t get much sleep. After I read for a while, my eyes begin to droop. A nap sounds good, as I lay the book on my nightstand and then lay down and put the covers over my head.
________________________________________________________________
I’m awakened by noises and hear my nephew downstairs. The room seems to be darker than when I went to sleep, and I’m shocked when I see that it’s nearly 5:00 PM. I slept all day, and my nephew didn’t wake me?
“Is everything ready to go?”
“Yeah. Petra and Greg went to get the body. They will text when they’re about 30 minutes away, so around 10:30, Ely and I will go to the house and start digging. It will probably take us at least 20 minutes or so to get the hole dug.”
“This had better go flawlessly or else,” I hear a threatening tone.
“It will. There’s no way we will screw this up when we’re getting paid thirty grand each.”
“Yeah, well, I did my part, so I better get paid,” my nephew said. I just realized they’re all getting paid, so someone hired them to kill Troy, but who? It does make me feel somewhat better that my nephew was only doing it because he’s getting paid and that this isn’t premeditated by him.
My mouth is so dry, and I need water and dinner since I’ve been asleep all day. I don’t think I can get my nephew’s attention unless I yell down at him, but then he may get upset. I have a glass by my bed, so I will just get some water in the bathroom and hold out on getting some food until he comes back upstairs.
After closing the bedroom and bathroom door, I turn on the faucet just a little to get some water. I feel a little better after gulping it down. I turn on the TV and lower the volume so I have something to watch while waiting. Murder She Wrote, one of my favorite series, is coming on soon. I like going back to the time without mobile phones, the internet, and social media. We barely had one TV, which was black and white with an antenna you had to fiddle with to get decent reception. But we only had 3 channels, and the news was on at 6:00 and 10:00 at night, and that was it. You weren’t privy to everything going on in the world, and it was nice. Ignorance is bliss.
It’s after midnight when I hear voices and realize I have fallen asleep. I rub my eyes and put on my glasses and my hearing aid. It’s so tiny; no one ever knows you have it on. I’m able to hear perfectly.
“It’s done,” is all I hear, and it’s from Petra.
“Good. Did you hear anything? See a light come on from the neighbors?” My nephew says.
“Nope. We were real quiet. No one suspects a thing.” If I could see her, I would know she was smiling.
“Okay, so when we get paid?” Colton asks.
“You took pics, right?” My nephew says.
“Yep, a few. I even got one with the necklace on his chest,” Petra chuckles.
“Awww … how cute,” Greg pipes in.
Send me the pics, and I will forward them to Devin.” Darn, I really wish I could see their faces, but I don’t dare open the door and check over the banner.
“Well, head home. Good job. I’ll let you know once Devin sends the transfer.”
“How long is that going to be?” Colton seems impatient.
“I don’t know, hopefully soon. Just lay low for a few days,” my nephew says.
“I can’t wait too long. I have work, you know?” Petra sounds like she’s jangling keys.
“Yeah, we all do. But we’ll each be $10,000 richer soon, well, except for me. I did the killing, so Devin promised me $20,000. Just hang tight,” my nephew says.
A few minutes later, I hear the door close, and I quickly get back into bed, put away my glasses, and lay down with my eyes closed. Shortly thereafter, I hear my door creak open. I know it’s my nephew checking on me. My heart is racing, but thankfully, it’s dark, and he can’t see me. I hear him close the door, and I breathe out in relief.
He doesn’t suspect a thing.
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It’s been nearly two months since the incident when I hear my nephew one morning yelling. I groggily wake up but then come wide awake when I hear, “What do you mean you lost Jenna’s ring? Where? When?” I get up and creep my way to the door.
“I don’t know, man. I had it in my pocket because I was going to the jeweler to resize it and can’t find it now,” Colton sounds freaked out.
“Okay, when was the last time you had it?”
I hear nothing and then, “Oh shit. It was the night we dumped Troy.” What? My head is spinning.
“You’ve got to be kidding me! Are you saying you might have lost it in her yard?”
“I don’t know, man, maybe.”
“Maybe?” My nephew’s voice thunders. And then he says, “Shit, we’re gonna wake her up,” his voice is down a notch.
Too late, nephew.
“How did you just figure out you lost it two months later? Didn’t Jenna say something?”
“Yeah, and I told her it was still at the jeweler. I didn’t know what else to say.”
“Damn it, Colt.”
I have to tell Patrice. Colton will go back to the yard and try and find it. I have to warn her.
“There’s one more thing,” Colton says. The police were just called to her home. Deanna found Troy.”
“Oh shit.”
I realize I have to text Patrice now. It’s the middle of August, and they dumped the body on June 25th.
I pull her contact information I’ve had in my notes for two months, and text her a cryptic message about Asters and soil. I have no idea if she will think I’m some lunatic or even the killer. I hope she doesn’t delete the message and block me.
I wait.
And then another thought hits me. I have to message her anonymously and then delete each message. That could work!
“You are one stupid son-of-a-bitch,” my nephew says.
“Look, I said I’m sorry. I’ll go back in a few nights and see if I can find it.”
“No. The cops will be swarming the place. Wait at least a week and hope they damn well don’t find it before you do.”
“Okay.” I hear footsteps, and then the door closes. I quickly get back to bed before he catches me. He throws open the door just as I close my eyes.
“Time to wake up and take your pill,” he tells me. I groggily open my eyes as if I’ve been asleep the whole time.
“Oh, okay.” I rub my eyes and stretch. “I must have been way tired. I’m usually up by now.”
I glance at the clock; it reads 8:15. I haven’t been sleeping much since this whole thing happened, but I tell my nephew I have been sleeping more. I have been getting up later, but it’s because I haven’t been getting to sleep until later too. It was after midnight until I finally drifted off last night.
He goes into my bathroom, takes out the pill bottle, and brings it into the room with a glass of water. He hands me both, and I put the pill in my mouth and swallow. “Good girl,” he says as if I’m a toddler. “I’ll bring you some breakfast soon,” he says, then puts the glass down and walks out.
About thirty minutes later, he comes in with a tray of buttered toast, yogurt, and grapefruit juice. “Thanks, I say when he lays it down across my lap.
“I’ll be leaving soon for work, but I’ll come back at noon for your afternoon pill.” I nod and then start eating. I’m starving but thirstier, as I seem to be lately. When he leaves, I eat and read a little but then feel my eyes drooping.
I wake up what seems like hours later. I’m alone. It’s now 12:22 PM. Did my nephew come back, see me asleep, put the pill on my nightstand, and leave? I look over but don’t see the pill. I get up and put on my robe and slippers and go downstairs.
A cold glass of orange juice sounds good. I open the fridge, grab the juice, and then see more Greek yogurt with the fruit at the bottom. I wonder if there’s more granola, so I peer into the pantry and see some on a shelf.
I set everything down on the table and look out the back. It’s a beautiful August day – perfect for some more reading. After sprinkling granola on the yogurt and pouring the juice, I take everything outside and sit on the lawn chair. The sun is warm, and the slight breeze tickles my skin.
Sometime later, I heard the back door slide open. “What are you doing out here?” My nephew sounds like he’s accusing me.
“Oh, hi. It’s such a pretty day. I thought I’d sit out here and enjoy it.” I turn around and see him frowning.
“You know how the sun can damage your skin. You’ve already had skin cancer.”
“I know, but I put on sunscreen,” I lie, “and I won’t stay out long.” He doesn’t know how long I’ve been out here anyway.
“Fine, but no more than an hour. I will get your pill.” He closes the sliding door, and I turn back to my book. I hate the meds he gives me, so I pretend to take them, but I keep the capsule in the side of my cheek and spit it out when he’s not looking. I have a baggie I put them in and then tuck them under the mattress. I’ve been doing that for months now. I checked what he was giving me; it was some kind of sedative. It’s like he’s trying to keep me numb and out of it. It feeds into the dementia story, I assume.
One time I asked for an MRI to see how far advanced I was, but he refused, saying it was too expensive. Apparently, all he had to tell my doctor was I exhibited the signs and symptoms he read about, and they believed him. But I know I don’t have it. My memory is good, that is, without that damn medication.
After he gives me the pill and I pretend to swallow it, he leaves and says he won’t be back until later tonight, but I can order DoorDash for dinner. Oh good, I’m tired of soups and salads.
I click on the TV, and the local news is on. I see a reporter standing in front of what looks like Deanna’s house. I turn up the volume and stare at the screen, watching as the police interview her. I then watch the medical examiners pushing a stretcher with a zipped black bag on top, and I know it’s Troy.
I suddenly fear that if my nephew is found out and gets arrested, I will be alone, and then they will put me in an assisted living center. I will have to leave my home. And then, I see Deanna, and she looks devastated, and it makes me sick to know she’s being framed, and there’s nothing I can do about it.
But I know who can …
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