The plan had come together just the way Caleb imagined … except for that one little detail.
When it came right down to it, he just hadn’t been able to pull the trigger. No matter how mean and nasty Donna was, and no matter how much he wanted to be free of her, Caleb was no killer.
Not in his heart. And not when it got personal.
So instead, he’d buried her up to her neck between a couple of rocks in what he reckoned was the middle of the desert. No one was going to find her. The sun and buzzards would take care of the rest.
It wasn’t quite as clean, and he was still picking sand out of his boots a week later.
But it was done, and he’d made all the proper reports to local lawmen. Another few days, and they’d declare Donna dead. Then her money would roll to Caleb, the grieving newlywed.
Only real problem was that he hadn’t slept a wink since he got back to Vilewood.
It wasn’t for lack of trying, or for lack of drinking.
He was just so gosh darn jumpy!
All he could think about was that maybe Donna had somehow gotten out, that she’d come back for him.
It was as ridiculous here on Friday night as it had been the whole week before.
Caleb threw back another shot of whisky and looked out the bedroom window. The sun was almost gone.
Behind him, the door creaked open. Just a spring evening breeze easing through the boarding house, he told himself.
Orange lantern light flickered off the glass he still held in his hand. Donna’s face reflected off the shiny surface, just like the nights before.
Would this be the night she was really there?