Читать книгу Buried Memories - Irene Pence - Страница 2

NO REMORSE

Betty’s nightgown clung to her as sweat and Wayne’s blood ran down her body, the stench of gunpowder filling her nostrils. Blood poured through the open star-shaped wounds in the back of her husband’s head where she’d just fired three shots of her .38-caliber Colt revolver.

Eager to wash the blood from her hands, Betty went into the bathroom, exchanging the sopping nightgown for an old T-shirt. After tucking the sheets of green plastic around Wayne’s body, she stuffed the dead weight into a blue canvas sleeping bag. With a healthy push, the body tumbled off the bed and landed with a thud.

Little by little, she dragged the gruesome package into the closet and closed the door. The body safely hidden, she scrubbed away every last trace of her husband and his murder before returning to bed.

Without remorse or guilt to trouble her, Betty fell soundly asleep.