It’s been a few weeks since Troy was found. His ex-wife was arrested a week ago when a necklace placed on his chest before burying him was found to have her fingerprints on it. Just like Grant said would happen, did, and now it may be months before anything commences, such as a trial. Melanie was nearly seven months pregnant and glowing. She seems happier now since I have spent much more time with her. She even took the kids to the fair before they went back to school last week. It seems we’re all going to get away with it.
I bought a crib, changing table, and rocker for Ian, the name Melanie chose for her son and Troy’s middle name. (William) We painted the baby’s room a lilac, and she had it decorated with dark purple blocks spelling out his name that she placed on his small dresser. A large framed portrait of a pregnant Melanie, taken just a month ago, was over the dresser. She's holding her stomach and turning sideways towards a rising sun. A custom-made mobile displaying her and Troy’s pictures was placed into hard plastic cubes; it towered over the crib. When I saw the pictures, I felt like I had been punched. Every time I pick up Ian, I will be reminded that he’s not my son and his father’s pictures will be what he sees every morning he wakes up.
But I have Melanie; Troy doesn’t.
Two and half months later, Melanie has two weeks until she’s due to give birth, and it’s Wednesday afternoon when I get a call from The Tooele County Jail in Utah. I look at the number, confused.
“Hello?”
“Jeff, it’s me.” Oh my god, it’s Grant.
“Grant?”
“Yeah, it’s me. I’m in jail. Surprise.”
“What? How?” I’m reeling. My happy future has just been destroyed.
“I was arrested when my aunt told the cops I was drugging her – even after I saved her life. Then, a week later, she told them I killed Troy.”
I sat there, stunned. I felt sick.
“Sorry, Jeff, but I’m not going down alone. This wasn’t supposed to happen, but my bitchy aunt knows everything. She overheard me and my buddies talking about Troy. After you left the cabin, I called a buddy who owed me a favor. He has a 4-seater plane, and I told him some BS story about needing medical supplies to Utah. He knew I was in medical school but didn’t know I dropped out, so I told him I was a doctor and was working for Doctors Without Borders and asked if he could fly these supplies to the small airport in Provo, UT, where my team would come pick them up and drive them down to the border where I would meet them in a few days.”
I’m trying to focus, but all I can think about is that he will betray me. “Anyway, I stuffed him into a large duffle bag filled with medical supplies. Damn, he was heavy. I got him to Utah, and everything went as planned. My buddies stayed in my family cabin up Big Cottonwood Canyon in Salt Lake. When Troy’s body got to Provo, a few picked him up. They took him back to the cabin, and they all stayed until the next night. The day after, they all drove down from the cabin to Grantsville, about an hour and a half away, taking him to his ex’s and dumping him.”
It seems complicated, but Grant's speech sounds like he’s reading from a script. I have to be careful what I say next.
“So, why are you calling me? Am I your one phone call or something?”
Silence
“Look, the jig is up; they know.”
“Know what? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Jeff, it’s over. They know what you did.”
“Did what? Grant, I’m not sure what you’re jabbing on about, but it has nothing to do with me.” They can’t trace the money I paid. I transferred $70,000 over several days to the overseas account and then sent the cash to Grant for him to distribute to each person. There is no wire transfer. Plus, I didn’t kill Troy, he did.
I hear a long sigh, some rustling in the background, and someone else whispering. He’s trying to get me to confess; the feds are recording us.
“I told you that if you called one day, it would be from jail. After all, you drugged your aunt. It was bound to catch up with you. I mean, who does that?”
“Jeff, they know you paid us money to kill Troy and dump him in his ex-wife’s yard.”
“What! I did no such thing! How could you even think that?” And then I said something I thought I never would. “Grant, you’re off your meds, aren’t you?” I knew he took medication for anxiety and depression. “Listen, dude. I know it’s been rough since you lost custody of your kids, and your gambling addiction caused you to be way in debt, and now your aunt is finally getting her life back after being drugged by you, but don’t put me in the middle of your sad life.”
“Jeff, knock off this shit! You went to the cabin where Troy was and begged me to be your backup while you were just going to tell him about Melanie’s secret and pay him off to leave her. You two fought and you told him to leave. He fell on your cabin steps and cut his head. I went to the store and got medical supplies and a bottle of pesticides that you agreed to and gave it to him after you left the cabin. Good God, man, I have your text messages!”
I start panicking. Shit, I forgot to tell him to delete all our messages. I quickly scan through them to see if any mention Troy specifically, and none do. Every time Grant texted me, I never texted back. I called him. I could make up any excuse about why he or I called, but he has nothing in the text messages to implicate me. I deleted every conversation from my phone. I also told him to delete all our phone conversations.
“What text messages, Grant?” I don’t see anything from you. On the phone, we’ve talked a few times over the last couple of months when I told you Melanie was pregnant with our son, and you congratulated me, but nothing about this Troy person.”
I knew he shouldn’t have killed Troy, but he did it anyway. He was so hard up for money that he was willing to risk it all for $20,000.
I hear whispers again. “You bastard. I know what you did. This isn’t over.” Click
I breathe out a sigh of relief. I can’t believe I improvised the whole conversation. Grant has nothing on me, and neither does the police. They may pick up my fingerprints at the cabin, but it’s MY cabin. I was there a few times throughout the year.
The question would be why Troy was at my cabin to begin with. And Grant already owes loan sharks, so he could have killed him for the money to pay them off. Maybe whoever “hired him” was anonymous. The police could chalk it up to Grant being paid off by them, but to keep it a secret, he framed me. I already have my alibi, and I left before Grant killed Troy.
If push comes to shove, I can always tell police that I headed up to the cabin since I was alone for the week, saw an unknown vehicle, and was assaulted by a man. In self-defense, I killed him. When I returned from the forest to call the police, my car wouldn’t start, and I couldn’t get cell reception. I called my good buddy, Grant, to come and help me. Or I came and saw him at the cabin, and he was hurt, so I called Grant to come. When I left to get supplies and came back, they were gone.
I didn’t use to be a good liar, but I am now. And the only one who knows anything is his aunt, who doesn’t know me. Plus, he’s the one who’s been trying to kill her. Why wouldn’t he be guilty of killing Troy? Oh, and Grant never liked Melanie, so he could stick it to her in killing her lover.
I stop because I could think up means, motives, and opportunities all day, but I can’t. Melanie has a doctor’s appointment in an hour to see if Ian is ready to be born into this world.
And I can’t wait.
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