With Amber’s corpse riding in the back seat, in my jittery state, I kept waiting for her to unfurl her blanket and rise up behind me and claw at my face with those long red fingernails of hers. I checked my rearview mirror incessantly and several times I was startled as I imagined that she was leaning over the console breathing in my ear. Finally I thought I heard her speak and I could actually hear and feel her warm breath inhaling and exhaling against my cheek. The hairs on my arms stood at attention and I must confess that I panicked. I pulled the car abruptly to the side of the highway and I hopped out of the car leaving my door open and scampered into the road hoping that she would jump out of the car and run off; I was convinced that Amber’s body had reanimated itself with some demonic spirit. Standing in the road I was completely focused on the activity (or lack-there-of) inside of Amber’s car and I was oblivious to the elements outside and I was promptly buzzed by an oncoming tractor-trailer which blared its loud whiny horn as it passed and caused me to leap forward towards the car as I clenched my bowels in my best effort retain my bodily fluids. I stood in my lane with my arms outstretched and my hands open prepared to run but at the same time trying to gather the courage to further approach the car. I crept up to the rear window and peaked inside to find Amber’s body resting peacefully and completely undisturbed. As I stood outside in the dark I became more frightened of the sounds of the country wilderness than I was of the body in the car; the hoot of an owl, the rustling of cattle from a nearby field, the Gregorian chant of the crickets in the grass and the gurgling trickle of a stream; all of these innocent sounds manipulated within the expanse of my imagination became monstrous indescribable beasts from the depths of hell so I scurried back into the driver’s seat and I caught my breath. I thought about turning back but I had driven so far and I still had Amber’s rotting carcass to dispose of. I thought about dumping her body in the drainage ditch along side the road and doing an about face, but I knew in my heart that if I had done so I would have been traced and tracked and found-out. I gathered my composure and I put the car into gear and I continued my journey along the two-lane country road.

As the addresses slowly fell and narrowed to the number I sought I slowed Amber’s car to a crawl. I passed a long dark private driveway with the number 46663 stenciled in black on a white-washed quarter sheet of plywood mounted to a tree, which according to Amber’s driver’s license was her address. I turned around in a neighbor’s driveway about a quarter mile past and then turned off my headlights and much to my chagrin the dashboard light as well, and I slowly cruised to the end of Amber’s private road and drove onto the narrow gravel covered driveway. I could hear the crunch of cinder crumble beneath the tires and despite my slow speed the decibel of the stone crushing under the weight of the car seemed high enough to be heard for miles. When I reached the top of her driveway I spied Amber’s house a few hundred yards down a slope. The house was a sprawling ranch with a sandstone façade across the front, blue vinyl siding (the house was illuminated with up-lighting) to the sides and faux slate gable roof made of asphalt shingles. Three small beams of light emanating from round black plastic spheres embedded in the ground shot up like fountains and lighted the stone fascia of the house casting shifting shadows as the evenings misty air shimmied through their glare. Several more brass fixtures, skinny poles with halogen lamps at the tips, lighted a row of shrubs along a walk of beige brick paving stones which wound from the concrete driveway pad to a long open- walled front porch which was lined with dirt- filled flowerless flower troughs.

The windows were dark but the flicker of a television appeared to illuminate the large picture window at the center of the house. Sweat was pouring from my pores and my pulse was pounding so hard that I could hear the blood throbbing through the veins in my wrists. I killed the engine and I coasted the car onto the concrete slab (that served as a secondary parking area) to the rear of the house and I eased the brake pedal to the floor which caused a high pitched squeal as the metal of the rotors ground against the graphite brake pads.

All sounds for me, no matter how suppressed, seemed amplified as though broadcast through a megaphone and the squeal of the brakes sounded as loud as if it had come from a train as it slid across the iron rails of a track coming to a stop. I hunched my body low in the driver’s seat as I held my foot to the brake; then I realized that the bright red glow of my brake- lights was illuminating the rear wall of the house and the shrubbery that adorned it. I placed the car in park and I lifted my foot from the brake and I waited to see if I had attracted any unwanted attention; but all was quiet.

I eased the car door open and I slipped out of the car and squatted and waddled to the shelter of the prickly shrubs against the house.

I scanned the rear yard for any sign of movement. Below and to the rear of the houses lay a large man-made frozen pond the size and shape of a basketball court only rounded at the corners. Beyond the pier lay a thicket of woods and briar through which could be seen the lights of other houses.

I waddled from the corner of the garage to the man-door at the center of the garage and I peaked into the window. There was a large late model navy-blue pickup truck backed inside so that the bed of the vehicle faced me. I waddled further along the rear of the house until I reached the window to the kitchen. Inside a dim light was cast across the vast grey granite countertops over and above several strings of maple cupboards.

I moved, my back sore at the base, a little more boldly and erectly, as I worked my way to the source of the flickering light, a large-screen television playing a basketball game which rested in the corner of the great- room with a dark plush carpet and white walls with a large stone fireplace as its centerpiece beneath a high vaulted ceiling. It appeared, though my view was obscured, that someone’s foot was sticking out from the end of the sofa. I drew a deep breath and then I stood up and tried to get a better glimpse of the sofa. The top of an adult head laid resting, eyes closed, atop a tier of pillows. Her husband Charlie, I supposed.

I squatted again and I moved toward a window which turned out to belong to one of the children’s bedrooms. A child was sleeping, or so it appeared, with its arm wrapped around a stuffed bear. My heart sank at the thought of the child being motherless. Amber may have been a royal cunt to me but she had been a doting mother to her children. I moved to the next window where the room was too poorly lit to see inside and on to the end of the house where through a set of sliding-glass doors lay the master suite which was lit only by a closet light. I could see a king-size brass bed and a large dresser and bureau painted white and a vaulted ceiling with a large ceiling fan positioned directly over the bed

I pressed on the handle of the sliding- glass door and to my relief and surprise it opened easily. I took off my shoes and I slipped inside. The room was warm compared to the chill air outside. I crawled up against the foot of the bed and listened for the sound of footsteps or movement but there was none. I crawled to the bureau which sat next to the entry door and then moved to the door and peered into the empty hallway before slowly closing the door and locking it from within.

Outside I slipped back into my loosely laced tennis-shoes and I scurried back to the car. I opened the rear passenger door and

Amber’s head slid down until it hung over the seat. I pulled her to me and hoisted her onto my shoulder and I walked slightly slumped through the rear yard.