Sweet Little Lies Read Online Free PDF Page A

deer. What a
way to go.
    Billy Dean held the compressions. Closed his
eyes. Said a prayer. Wondered what Delay would think about dying
with egg on his face. And how they would explain the mangled body
of the woman, under the tarps, in the bed of the 250, to his
wife.

    X

    Demolition Magazine 2006; Nashville
Lifestyles 2008

    I watched X tidy up the kitchen. The routine
was familiar, comforting in its mundane, expected way. Every night,
she cleans up before she goes to bed. Oh, we won’t even talk about
that.
    I’ve been in that kitchen, of course. Smelled
the warm aroma of clean, seen the knives lined up like tin
soldiers. Each appliance in its place, each tool, each spoon, all
in perfect harmony in her kitchen. Spotless, sterile. Unlike her,
actually. X is warm, strong, caring, loving. I know this because…
well, I just know. Dammit, don’t doubt me. I just do.
    She’s smiling now and the warmth passing
through my body is nearly uncontainable. It’s as if she’s looked me
straight in the eye, her smile an arrow through my heart… oh, I
see. X’s cat has jumped onto the counter, is flicking its tail
under her perfectly formed chin. She runs her hand along the
kitty’s back, purses her lips in a croon, then grabs her around the
middle and sweeps her onto the floor. Okay, so I know the cat is a
girl. Yes, I know her name. It’s Pumpkin, which, if truth be told,
I find a bit beneath this particular woman. Surely a creature so
exotic, so perfect can come up with a more original name. But that
really makes no difference. All that matters is X, and what matters
to her, matters to me.
    The idiot creature had gotten out for an
instant, slunk out the back door when X had her head turned. X had
flown onto the deck, screamed “Pumpkin!” with such a note of panic
in her voice that I had to stop and stare. How could she care so
much for such an inconsequential creature? The cat must have sensed
it as well, for she froze in the fallen leaves, glanced about once
or twice, then turned and scurried back up the stairs and straight
into the house.
    I watched as X stood, hand to her throat,
chest heaving slightly, the crisis averted. She looked at me,
unrealizing, then returned indoors, barring the door securely
behind her. An unlocked door or window would never lead me to this
prize. X is too smart to be careless like that. A challenge, to say
the least.
    It began so simply. Just a brief flash of a
smile, no teeth showing, lips compressed but turned up at the
corners of her mouth. Gray blue eyes snapped my direction, then
slid away before she actually focused on me. She walked so tall,
her ponytail bouncing as she stepped lightly toward her car. The
day was warm and she was dressed for the gym, long legs and Nikes.
I stepped close enough to catch her scent, coming from, rather than
going to. I imagined her there, glistening beneath the television
sets. The deep richness of her scent invaded my senses permanently.
Even now, all I have to do is conjure that image and she’s there,
in me, with me.
    I was lost. I knew, at that moment, I had to
have her.
    Watching was enough, at first. I wondered
what she thought about in those unguarded moments. Lost in a task,
staring out the window, was X dreaming of me? Wanting that slight
edge that’s missing from her life?
    The neighborhood dogs are a nightmare. They
bark and bark. It’s like being in a kennel. Are they yapping at me?
Perhaps. Maybe they’re just so stupid that the slightest scent, the
tiniest whisper of a breeze catches their imaginations and the
respond as only a dog can, with immediate and incessant barking.
There is one in particular, a deep-throated WOOF that I know drives
X mad. I hear the dog start and see her roll her eyes, wondering
how long the stupid beast will go on. Sometimes it will bark for
hours, the chorus of hounds around the rest of the neighborhood
chiming in for a midday serenade. I can tell it annoys her. I can
only do one thing. If it will make my love