Spooked, Nico numbly obeyed. Together they carried the body deeper into the woods until they found a remote spot where the ground was soft and there were plenty of leaves at hand to disguise the grave. Owen had brought shovels; they fetched these, along with rags and flashlights, from his vehicle, then blistered their palms as they dug a hole big enough to drop the body in. But first Nico cleaned out Geoffrey’s pockets, taking his car keys and wallet, then unlaced his Timberland boots.

“Dude, his shoes?” Owen scoffed.

“What? They’re a hundred bucks a pair! Besides, it’s one less piece of evidence to leave behind,” Nico reasoned.

“Good idea. Nobody’ll be able to ID him, if the body’s ever found,” Owen remarked. “Which it won’t be.”

“You sound pretty sure of yourself,” said Nico as he rifled through the billfold’s contents.

Owen was matter-of-fact. “I’m not worried. Trust me, nobody’s going to miss a lowlife like Geoffrey Faust.” He kicked the corpse.

“Especially if Geoffrey Faust is alive and well,” Nico said.

“What are you talking about?” Owen asked.

“Dude has a clean record, a bank account, employment history . . . how hard would it be to just take his place?”

“You’re serious? Why would you want a dead guy’s identity?”

“I already got an arrest record and nothing to live for. But Geoffrey’s a clean slate. His death could be my second chance, man.” Nico traced the edge of Geoffrey’s driver’s license.

“Look, do what you want to do. But it’ll be getting light in a few hours. We’ve gotta hurry.”

Hours of sweat-stained shirts and bloody hands later, they filled in the grave and covered it with a bed of leaves and pine straw. Over this, they arranged small logs and heavy stones in a natural-looking pattern. They used a pine limb, dense with stiff needles, to brush away their footprints. The trail of blood from the execution site to the grave they sprinkled with gravel and dirt.

Together they buried the one secret that would hold Owen captive for life. But Owen was good at hiding things. He swore Nico to secrecy, and the punk readily agreed. He had seen what his trigger-happy friend was capable of.

The sun was just rising as they headed back to the road. Nico took off in Geoffrey’s Corolla. Owen, carrying both shovels, walked to where his car was parked.

And there, standing next to the trunk, was Mackenzie with her arms folded across her chest. Owen halted mid-stride. Her hooded eyes said it all; she’d seen too much.

“Mackenzie—”

“Dammit, Owen, what have you done?”

Chapter 39

Mackenzie

MONDAY MORNING

“Hey, honey. You okay?”