Page 45 of Race With The Devil

“I sure wish I had your numbers,” I murmured. But should he really be posting to two million people that he’d been at the Grand Canyon that morning? Maybe the aim was to scare Tutti.

Down the table, Ford was yelling. “What the fuck, Slayer?”

Everyone looked at Ford—rather, at his laptop where he’d inserted the MORGAN disc. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the volume turned up, but the video camera was focused on a couch. A couch where Santiago Slayer, giant boner visibly swelling his already-tight white pants, felt the pendulous boobs of Ranger Vera.

“That is not the right spot!” cried Slayer, half-standing from his chair. “Is that eighteen-fifty-one?”

Ford guffawed. “Nope! It’s eleven-thirteen. Man, this is classic!”

“Turn up the volume!” urged Duji.

Faux Pas ribbed Slayer. “Do we get to keep this tape as part of our fee?”

“Qué cabrón!” shouted Slayer. “Fast forward, fast forward, you gilipollas!”

I was even laughing when Slayer dipped his head to mouth the boobs, first attending to one, then the other. She clutched at his wavy salt and pepper hair. No wonder she gave him the tape! I probably would, too. Men didn’t usually attend to women that way.

“Way to work it, Slayer!” said Gollywow with admiration.

“You’re really selling it!” yelled Knoxie.

“All right, come on,” said Tanner, to my surprise. “Just fucking fast forward. Give the man his privacy.”

“Thank you,” said Slayer, easing back into his chair. His eyes really did look moist with offense. I guessed as “The Kindly Sicario,” he had his scruples.

The chuckling died down as Ford played a video of a parking lot.

“This is Grandview Trailhead,” said Slayer. “You will see the Ferrari pull up momentarily.”

Sure enough, in a few seconds the Ferrari pulled up. The air in the room became very heavy, and men stopped breathing when Lavinia Dock, in profile, got out of the passenger side door.

“Is that her?” Ford whispered to me.

I nodded, jaw slack.

“That’s her all right,” said Tanner, who had studied all my photos of her.

One could only view them from behind as Tutti put his hand in the small of Lavinia’s back. She seemed to be falling for his ruse, dipping her head to roll on his stupid shoulder. I couldn’t believe she could be so stupid. She was probably grasping for straws, as would any woman who was handed crumbs night and day. You’ll take anything. I mean, I didn’t stay at Gary’s house solely for Lyric. In between the beatings and rapes, he’d give me little gifts and act like a romantic husband. I didn’t even know what Stockholm Syndrome was until after I moved out and began to confide in my friends about the situation at “home.” I’m pretty sure it was Bellamy who informed me about the condition.

Then Tutti went back to the car to get a backpack, which he shouldered. There could be anything in there, really. There could really be a gun, rope, duct tape. Tutti could’ve thrown a champagne bottle in there for good measure. He could even have cheese and crackers.

We’d never know, because the couple disappeared down the trailhead. We all stared blankly at the laptop screen as tourists milled in the parking lot, going to the rail to view the enormity of the colorful gorge. No one followed Tutti and Lavinia down the path.

Finally, Tanner asked, “Did you see them come back up?”

Slayer nodded, poker-faced. “Go to fifty-one-oh-four.”

There it was, plain as porridge. Tutti emerged from behind the lip of the canyon. It was getting so dark you could just make out his asshole silhouette. He still carried the bag. You knew it was him, though, because he made a beeline for the Ferrari, chucking the backpack into the passenger seat, since no one would sit there.

So, Corey didn’t murder her. The poor guy was just Tutti’s boots on the ground, a fall guy, a stooge. A craptastic drug addict who mailed lethal chemicals to naive schoolkids all over the country. I was never too sure how to feel about drug addicts. Addiction overpowered love, I knew that. In Cottonwood, I’d seen too many people willingly fuck up their marriages, ignore their kids, and abuse their animals because drugs took priority. It seems incredible to those of us who’d never known the lure of a substance. Did they not really love their spouse, kids, dog? Weirdly, I think they can feel a strong love and still follow the path of the drug. That was the only explanation.

Slayer said, “In order to find the body, you’d better hurry. Vera told me that soon snow will obliterate everything on the South Rim. There was already a fine, powdery dusting when I was there.”

Tanner said, “I’ll have my partner fly out my best tracking dog.”

Wolf piped up. “Beetle can do it!”

Tanner said, “He’s a herding dog, not a nose dog.”