“If you stay with him, I can go pick up a pesticide. There’s got to be a local place where I can grab some around here. Depending on what you're looking for, you can find one with the components that make up arsenic: phosphorus, nitrogen, antimony, and bismuth, which can result in severe effects if given enough.
Since arsenic is odorless, colorless, and tasteless, it’s hard to detect. I'll give him enough in the water bottle for effects to occur, and it will cause nausea and vomiting, maybe even convulsions, and then shock. By the time he's found, the cut will have already healed, and they'll find the chemicals in his system and probably determine the ex-wife poisoned him and either she dumped him or paid someone to do it. We'll all be in the clear."
I stand there shocked, unable to move or say anything. I can’t believe Grant’s solution is to kill him, but I can’t lose my family. I don't how much he would have to give him to do the trick, but I don't want him to suffer.
“I’ll clean up everything, so when the police search the cabin, they won’t see anything suspect. They will search the lake area and maybe even think he drowned when they can’t find him. By the time they dredge the lake, if they do, it could be days or weeks. Of course, an investigation will be opened, but it will take months or longer. Meanwhile, his body will be driven to Utah and dumped in his ex's front yard. She'll find his body eventually, and they will arrest her as the main suspect.”
My mind is spinning. It could work, but his ex isn’t to blame; she’s as much a victim as I am. I can’t do that to her.
I shake my head and say, “I don’t want anything to do with this.”
“Look, leave it up to me. I won’t tell you anything until it’s done. Leave the cabin, go home, and act like everything is normal. I will get some guys to help, but they won’t do it for free.”
I sigh. This would solve my problem. I wouldn’t have anything to do with it. But, then I think about the money. I'm paying these people to dump a body that my buddy killed. Oh god, if I'm found out ...
I sigh deeply. “Fine, I’ll pay them $10,000 each, and you, $20,000 for giving him the arsenic and cleaning everything up. But, there can be NO evidence, nothing tying it back to me.” And then I wonder how I'm going to send money without some kind of trail. I'll need to worry about that later.
Grant nods and says, “Don’t worry, and thanks for the money. It will help; I could use some additional money right now. My aunt doesn’t know I emptied her savings account on gambling. I still owe about $10,000.”
I shake my head. “I thought you stopped that.”
“Yeah, well, it’s hard taking care of an aunt with dementia and child support for two kids.”
I did understand that. I would be doing the same thing if Melanie and I divorced.
“What do we say to him?” I slightly turn my head towards Troy.
“You tell him I went back to town to get some medical supplies and some food, and you’ll be here to ensure he doesn’t fall asleep.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll be back in about twenty minutes, hopefully. There's got to be a nursery, Home Depot, or Lowes out of the forest. It took about ten minutes to get in here, so when I get out, I can use my phone to locate a place. When I get back, I’ll clean him up, dress his head, and then we’ll eat. After, you’ll pretend you forgot to call the kids for some reason and that you’ll be back in a bit after you get out of the forest and get better cell reception.
I’ll give him some bottled water; before too long, he’ll start feeling the effects of the arsenic, and I will be here as the medical know-it-all. I’ll get my guys to do their thing, and viola, you rid yourself and your family of this problem. Give me four days since driving will take at least three days and then one day to ensure it’s nighttime when they dump his body.”
Could it work? He’s already injured. Grant giving them the pesticide in his water will cause his death, and a medical examiner will know that's what killed him. I’ve got to take the risk – for my family.
“Okay, but you had better clean up good, so no trace is left behind.”
“You got it. Just keep him talking, or at least awake."
I return to Troy, who is still sitting on the couch, his head flopped back, his eyes closed.
“Hey, Troy, wake up,” I clap my hands. He bolts awake. “You can’t sleep, man.” I then wonder why we couldn’t let him go to sleep, and if he slips into an unconscious state and we leave him here, then we’re not liable for what happens. But then, what if he does wake up and leaves, immediately going to the police? I’m not a doctor, and we can’t really know if he’s got a concussion and how serious it is. No, Grant’s right. We have to do it his way.
“I’m going into town for some medical supplies; see if we can bandage your head,” Grant heads for the door.
“Yeah, sounds good. Thanks, man,” I tell him. He slams the door behind him. Now what? I have a man who looks a mess; I can’t let him sleep; I must keep him talking. “So, Troy, tell me about yourself.” Oh God, I sound like I’m interviewing him for a job.
“Are you kidding?”
“Look, I don’t want to do this anymore than you, but I have to keep you awake, so unless you want to fall asleep and end up in a coma, it's time to talk.”
“Fine. I was born in Salt Lake City and have two brothers and one sister. Went to the University of Utah and graduated with a BA in Civil Engineering.” His eyes start to close again. I snap my fingers, and his eyes pop open. “Met my wife, Deanna, got married a year later, and within five years, popped out three kids, a girl, and two boys. We moved to Grantsville shortly after the oldest was born.” He’s slurring his words, and his head keeps falling forward.
“What are your hobbies?” I don’t give a shit about them, but I have to keep him talking.
“Like to hike, travel, plant cool things, watch true crime, you know the basics.”
“What plants have you grown?” He closes his eyes again.
“Can’t I just sleep? I’m so tired.”
I’ve got to really wake him up, so I walk into the kitchen, take the glass Grant took out of the cupboard, fill it with water, and walk straight back to him and dump the whole glass over his head. Troy jumps back.
“What the fuck?”
“You have to stay awake.” Troy wipes the dripping water from his face and rakes his fingers through his hair. Dry blood mingles with the water and runs down his neck. “Now, tell me what it was like growing up.”
“Oh shit, man, I don’t want to talk about that.” All men seem alike – they never want to talk about their childhood, but women can talk for hours.
“Work with me, Troy.”
He sighs deeply and sits back. At least now, he looks fully awake. I enjoyed making him squirm – I may have to do that again.
“My mom stayed at home with us until I was about 8. I’m the youngest. My dad was in the Military – Navy-Marine. He was strict, gave us tons of chores, and sometimes did things with us when he was on base, but we all moved with him whenever he was transferred. I’ve lived in California, Nevada, Washington, Texas, Indiana - about ten states. Every year or so, we left and transferred to another state. I was always the new kid.” If he weren’t banging my wife, I’d feel sorry for what he went through.
“My dad liked to get drunk when not working, and you know, smack us around. We probably deserved it, but my mom didn’t.” He clenches his jaw, and I notice his hand balling into a fist.
“That’s rough,” I say, unsure what else to say.
“Yeah, it was more than rough; it was a nightmare.” I turn my wrist over and check my Apple watch for the time. Grant’s been gone only ten minutes. Hopefully, he gets here soon.
“So, Civil Engineering, huh?”
“Yeah, my grandpa was one and taught me everything I know, but decided to get a degree so I could get a good paying job. It was the one thing I could focus on when my dad was screaming at my mom. He was a bastard and ran out on her when I was 13.”
I shake my head and roll my eyes, “Like father, like son.”
“Yeah, I know.”
I punch back. "You had an affair, ruined two relationships, and ran out on your family. I’m sure your dad is proud.”
“Was. He kicked the bucket when I turned 30; the booze did him in, ended up with liver cancer. I found out about it, and six months later, he was dead. Good fucking riddance.”
I have to calm down, so I quickly go to the bathroom, leaving him to think about what he did to his ex-wife.
When I come back out, he's drinking from the water bottle Grant gave him earlier. I don't know what else to grill him on, so I reluctantly tell him about myself, hoping to pass the time. We have some things in common, and if it weren't for him having sex with my wife, we could have been friends. Of course, he grew up in Utah, so it would have never happened, but still, he has some good qualities about him.
A few minutes later, I hear Grant’s pickup approaching. Thank God.
“Looks like my buddy is back. He’ll patch you up good.”
Grant walks in, carrying two sacks.
“Hey, need to take a piss,” Troy says and heads to the bathroom.
I follow Grant into the kitchen.
"I found this at a local nursery about five minutes out of the forest, he says, putting the plastic bag on the counter. He takes out a square bottle. “It's a pesticide that has the same chemicals as organic arsenic. Make sure he doesn’t see anything,” he says, turning his head and motioning to the bathroom door.
“Look, man, I don’t know if this is a good idea.” Yes, Troy is a shithead for the affair, but he doesn’t deserve to die.
“Nah, man, you’re not backing out on this It will be over quickly. You can go home and get on with your life.” He stashes the bottle under the sink when he hears the bathroom door open. He then reaches into the same sack and pulls out the medical kit.
“How’s the head, man?”
Troy rubs his forehead; a large bump now shows visibly. “It’s all right – feels like a golf ball, though. Getting a killer headache.”
“Yeah, that happens when you slam your head on concrete. I got some Ibuprofen, but let’s get some lunch first.”
Troy nods, and I watch Grant put a paper bag on the counter and take out the cheese, ham, turkey, shredded lettuce, a bag of chips, a six-pack of Coors, bread, and mayo. It’s like we’re having a party. He starts building the sandwiches and then brings one over to Troy with the bag of Doritos and a can of beer. “Here, eat. He thrusts the food and drink before him, and Troy takes it all.
“Thanks, man.”
I make my sandwich and pull one of the beers out of the plastic thingy holding them together. We all sat and ate in silence. I pop the beer tab and hear a fizz. I take a long drink but then put it down. I better not drink too much. The last thing I need is to be pulled over driving home because I’m drunk. I don’t hold my liquor well.
Grant gets my attention about fifteen minutes later and points to his phone. It’s time. Damn, I’m leaving Troy in his hands, and I don’t have any clue what will happen. But it’s too late to change my mind.
“Oh hey, I forgot to call my kids and see how their day with my parents went. They went to the zoo.” Oh, good grief. I’m the worst liar. “Since there’s no reception here, I’m going to quickly get out of the forest, call them, and come right back. Shouldn’t take me more than ten minutes, fifteen, tops.”
“Okay, Grant says in between bites. “I'll stitch and bandage him up until you get back.”
“Yeah, sure,” Troy says.
“K –” I say. My hands are sweaty, and I don’t want to do this, but there’s no going back. I look at Troy one last time as Grant opens the medical kit and removes the dressings, and then I open the cabin door, never to see him again.
On my way down the road in the car, I keep glancing up at the review mirror, but it's just me. I slam my foot on the gas pedal. I must get out of here - fast. It isn't until I’m out of Sargants Ponds that I can breathe and slow down, but I keep thinking a cop will pull out behind me, and I’ll hear the red and blue siren.
When I'm out of the forest, I turn on the radio. The Long Island Expressway is minutes away. And within the hour, I'll be home. I start smiling. Troy will no longer be a problem.
It’s time to heal.
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