Page 2 of Devil's Work: Dark

We pass the apartment complex where my sister used to live. Ty looks out the window longingly. I know he misses her. We moved to Bentley to be closer to her, my only remaining family after my husband died. We’d only lived here three months when she got the opportunity to move to Nashville and she “just couldn’t pass it up.” She never talked about where this opportunity came from or who offered it, even though I’d asked. Several times. But once Jim and I married, she sort of excused herself from our lives, only coming around for holidays or when she was feeling nostalgic.

Nashville was way out of our budget, mine and the kids, so while she packed up and moved to the big city, we tried to restart our lives in a small-ass town where we were treated as outsiders because we were outsiders and now a year in, we continue to be outsiders. I guess it’s my fault. I moved to Bentley, Kentucky from Northern Ohio, where my husband was from. The good people of Bentley let me know in no uncertain terms that Northerners weren’t a welcome addition. But I digress. Bentley is our home now, come hell or high water. I simply don’t have money to move us. Not that I’d know where to move us even if I could.

Our trailer is set on a property with four other trailers. Our landlord lives at the other end from us in the biggest. Ours has white siding and dark blue shutters. I painted the door to match the shutters. Then I added some cheap, plastic flower boxes that I also spray-painted that same blue color. I think it classes up the joint. Right now, we’ve got bright pink begonias planted. They make me happy. I love pink. It’s not just a color, after all, it’s an attitude. My attitude is totally pink—or at least it used to be. Now I can’t afford to have an attitude of any kind. My circumstances have humbled that right out of me. But once upon a time, when I still had dreams, I dreamed in pink.

I carry a stinky Lacy inside the house with Ty at my heels. We kick off our shoes because I find it unsanitary to walk inside the house on carpeted floors with shoes on, hence, it’s always been a rule in our family, and I lay baby girl down on the floor to change her so she’ll stop crying.

After tossing the dirty diaper into the trash, I put my shoes back on again to run out and get the groceries. “Watch sissy,” I call over to Ty right before pulling the door shut behind me. This is the way it happens every time: I run from the trunk to the front door. Trunk to front door. Trunk to front door until all the bags are sitting on or around the stoop. Only then do I open the front door to load all the bags inside.

Once inside, I shut the door and proceed to lug all the bags into the kitchen to put the groceries away. There’d been an incident when we first moved here. I left the door open and when my back was turned, grabbing bags, a fox decided to take a look inside our place. I walked in to Ty petting a wild animal. Not cool… andnever again. I don’t know how I stayed so calm getting that thing out.

“Mumma, can I go play?” Ty asks.

Sighing, I look around at the bags and out to the living room, where Ty has the baby girl on her playmat. She seems happy for now. “Yeah, bud. Go ahead and play.”

He scampers off into his room and I get back to getting the food into the fridge or their proper cupboards. Tonight for dinner, I think we’re going to have creamy rice and mackerel patties. I’d make salmon patties if I could afford to, but mackerel is so much cheaper.

While Lacy is still being good, I set a pot of water to boil for the rice, then I grab a glass of water. Coffee would’ve been welcome right now, but water’s what I’ve got, so water’s what I drink. I take the glass into the living room with me and plop down on the sofa. Then I turn on the television. We only get the free channels. I can’t afford internet right now, so we couldn’t use the nice television I had when my husband was alive. I couldn’t afford the streaming or cable, so I sold it for gas money. This is old-school. I bought it for five dollars second-hand, but it serves our purposes.

“We have breaking news tonight,” the anchor who reminds me of a Ken doll says, catching my attention. “The Bible Belt Killer has struck again.” All thoughts of Barbie’s main squeeze disappear in an instant. “This time, outside of St. Louis. Let’s go to Ted Jansen, our KSDK affiliate for more on this breaking story. Ted…”

“Thank you, Darren,” Ted, a highly attractive black man wearing a highly disturbed face, says into the camera. “A body was discovered this morning on the road leading out of Steelville. If you have children in the room, you might want to send them away, as the footage is graphic.” I look over to the hallway to make sure Ty’s not coming out of his room. The scene cuts to the tree line off the shoulder of a road surrounded by yellow police tape. There are more cruisers than I can count on both hands, all with lights flashing. Then the footage cuts to what is clearly a body on the ground under a gray police tarp. “The body was discovered by resident Daniel Heartman while he was heading to work this morning.”

Then they cut to the interview with the resident, a balding, middle-aged man, maybe late thirties, looking for his fifteen minutes of fame. “Yeah, as I was coming around the curve, I seen something on the side of the road. My headlights glinted off it and it didn’t look like no animal, so I pulled off the road to check it out. That’s when I found her. Awful—awful sight. That poor woman. I don’t think I’ll ever get that image out of my head.”

The camera cuts back to Ted. “The police still refuse to release the details of the case but have said it is clear that this woman who has yet to be identified is another victim of The Bible Belt Killer. Women in Illinois, Indiana, and Kentucky are warned to be vigilant, as it appears he’s moving east once again.”

Finally, they cut to a montage of all his dumpsites over the last year and a half, showing the names and pictures of the women who have been identified. It’s scary. When Jim was alive, I never would have feared for my safety. But back then, we lived in a nice house, in a safe neighborhood. We had security cameras and an alarm system. Now I live in an old single-wide, and I’m pretty sure if someone kicked on the door using only a bit of force, the damn thing would pop right open.

It’s not as if the women identified were involved in dangerous activities like streetwalking or anything. They were normal, everyday women, who somehow did something that this maniac felt they needed to atone for their sins.

“Mumma.” Ty comes running out of his room and I quickly change the station to PBS. “Can I have a drink?”

“Sure, buddy.” He’ll end up with the same thing as me, but I have to get up anyway to check to see if my water is boiling yet. As I pivot to head for the kitchen, I glance outside through the window. Trees, grass and hills are all I see. They’re all I ever see, but that doesn’t mean I’m not scared as hell.

Damn Jim for dying.

2

DARK

Fuck, this bitch is working for her tips. Her huge tits bouncing, hitting my chin while she grinds her pussy against my crotch and rolls her phenomenal body. The lights are low. There’s a blonde working the pole on the stage. The music’s loud. And I’m five beers in.

Life could be worse.

As the dance winds down, I stuff the bills—fifties—in her G-string, then I lean up to whisper in her ear. “Let’s fuck.”

A devilish smile spreads across her lips. “I don’t sell sex,” she says.

“That’s good because I don’t buy it. You ride my cock, it’s because youwannaride it.”

She’s hot. I’m horny.

“What time is it?” she asks.

I look at my phone. “Midnight.”

“I’m due a break,” she says as she climbs off my lap, but she grabs a fistful of my T-shirt at the chest to tug me out of the chair. “Come on.”

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