Ryan Wiley - Disappearance

The gun blast is loud, much louder than I ever would have expected. When I open my eyes I see I’ve connected with my target. The top half of his body was blown over to the passenger side, his head bleeding all over the seat. I can’t bear to look at what I’ve just done. Holy shit. I’ve just shot a complete stranger and immediately regret it. I look around to see if anyone is looking but don’t see anyone.

Contemplating what to do next, my first option is to walk back in the house and pretend I don’t know anything. Eventually someone will find the man. When they do, they’ll no doubt come knocking on my door. Will I be able to lie and say I don’t know anything? I’m not sure I will. Also, I have the murder weapon on me and I’m pretty sure police will be able to trace the gun back to me. My other option is to drive off with the car and get rid of the body. This seems to have even more loopholes that could land me in prison for the rest of my life. Fingerprints, people driving by seeing me, blood getting on my clothes, not to mention how the hell am I going to get home? That option seems out of the question.

I think I might be able to lie to the police, but what do I do with the gun? I have to get rid of it, but not in the house because I know they’ll find it. Burying it in the ground would look incredibly guilty, and would also be easy to find with metal detectors.

I run back inside to think and to make sure I’m not seen out here. One thing is certain; I need to get rid of this gun. I pray to God the gun store doesn’t have video surveillance. When the cops see the body, will they interrogate all nearby gun stores? I’m thinking it’s a strong possibility. I can’t imagine too many people go into his store every day, so I’m sure he’d remember me.

I put a pair of gloves on and rinse the gun under water, which I hope gets the fingerprints off. Then I put it and the ammo into a Zip-Loc bag. I have to get rid of this.

Then a realization occurs to me, something that makes me almost want to vomit. The bullet.

It’s almost certain they will find a bullet, and it’s even more certain the old man would be able to remember the last person he sold them to. Once this happens, the old man will give a description of me and the police will no doubt match that description to people within the area of the crime.

Now I feel I still have two options, the first being to get rid of the car and the body, which I’ve already decided is a bad option but still open for consideration. The second option is to look for the bullet, which risks me being seen near the body. Would I even be able to find the bullet, and don’t bullets break off into several pieces? There’s no way I’d be able to find all the ones in his head. The more I think about it, the more the bullet option seems out of the question too.

So, the two plans I have are terrible. Think, Andrew . Think . What can I do to get out of this mess? Abby, why did you have to tell me to kill the man in the black car? What’s the point of all of this?

Then I hear something, the sound of a car coming up the road. When I peek out I see the worst possible thing, a cop car pulls up behind the black car.

“Oh, shit!” I close my blinds so they can’t see me. I peek out the window to inspect what they’re up to. My mind can’t help wondering why they are here in the first place. We never have police officers on this street. Somebody must have called when they heard the gun shot.

I watch as the officer steps out of the car. My god, what will their reaction be when they see what’s inside? The officer walks over, a bit more casually then I might expect. They only look in for a moment, and then turn around looking toward my house. I move away from the window as fast as I can, hoping they didn’t see me. Damn it, did they see me? I’m tempted to take another peek out, but this would be stupid. I don’t think they saw me, but I don’t want to press my luck any more than I already have. I sit up against the wall hoping they just go away.

“Ding dong!” my doorbell rings. My life is over. I’m going to prison for the rest of eternity. What do I say? Do I lie? Of course I lie, but about what parts? Do I say I never even knew there was a dead body? Yes, that’s it. I’ll say I just happened to be peeking out and saw the cop car. Did they see me immediately close the blinds when they looked over? If so, that makes me look very suspicious. I’ll just say I was scared.

They pound on the door.

Can I just ignore them completely, pretending I’ve been in bed this whole time? If I hadn’t peeked out the damn window, I could have done just that. Now, I’ve convinced myself they saw me.

“Andrew, open up. I know you’re in there.”

Wait, how do they know my name? That voice, it sounds so familiar. I go to the door and open it. Deputy Vogul is standing there, looking calm and poised.

“Hey Andrew. Looks like we have a little situation on our hands.”

“I uhhh…” Before I can say something that I’ll probably regret, she interrupts me.

“It’s OK, Andrew. I know you shot that man over there. I’m glad you did!”

“Wh.. what?”

“That’s right, Andrew. I’m sure that’s not what you were expecting to hear, but there’s nothing to worry about. As long as you do everything I say, we should be OK. Hurry, though, we don’t have much time. Are you willing to do everything I say?”

“Uhh yes, of course.”

“OK, we need to get rid of this car before anyone sees it. I want you to get in and drive off with it. The keys are in the ignition. Now, fortunately, you managed to not break any glass or anything, so if you just roll the body onto the passenger-side floorboard no one should notice. Then, I want you to drive the car out to the reservoir.” She then gives me a series of instructions on where to go from there. Apparently, Deputy Vogul has her own secret place, but hers sounds even more confusing and hard to get to than Abby’s. She continues, “Once you’re there, Andrew, I want you to take the lighter fluid and matches I give you and torch the car. Burn it all up. I’ll come back at one o’clock to pick you up. You can let me take care of the rest. Got it?”

“Got it,” I say.

“Now, where did you put the gun?” she asks.

“It’s… uhh… it’s in the kitchen.”

“OK, I’ll take care of it. First, lets get you that lighter fluid from my car.”

I’m in total shock. I can’t believe what this woman is doing for me. Something just doesn’t add up. Why is she helping me? There’s no time to ask questions, though. She’s made that clear. We walk to the car and, out of her trunk, she gets a ton of lighter fluid and matches. While she’s doing that, I work on moving the man into the passenger seat. He isn’t that large, maybe weighing only 150 pounds, but I now have a full understanding of the meaning “dead weight.” Under normal circumstances, I would be throwing up from the sight of his bloody body. Are those his brains ? My adrenaline is in full force, though. I’m all business as I finally get him into the passenger seat. I pray nobody sees what I’m doing.

Deputy Vogul throws all the supplies into the car. “Get out of here, now! I’ll see you later.”

I don’t even say goodbye, or thank you. I drive off as fast as this black car will take me.

I approach several cars on the way to Deputy Vogul’s place in the reservoir. It’s hard to look innocent but I do my best. I get stuck at a traffic light with a truck sitting to my left. If they look over, they’ll most certainly see the body. I stare at them the entire time, but they never look back.

Once I get to the reservoir, I recite Deputy Vogul’s directions over and over. It takes about fifteen minutes, but I finally get to where I think I’m supposed to be. There’s no way anyone could stumble onto this place; it’s way more concealed than Abby’s.