Peter shook his head. “You can explain to the cops how it all got out of hand. Here’s the evidence you had pointing to Graff being involved in your wife’s death. We can salvage this.”
“Not possible. That’s not how this is going to play out.”
“We’ll get a great lawyer. We’ll own up to it.”
“You think a jury would be sympathetic? Think about it. I killed my NYPD partner. Now I’ve killed this former army hero in cold blood. A courtroom will bury me.”
“For the love of God, you need to think straight.”
Jack grabbed Peter by the arm. “Listen to me. There’s another way. It might work. But we need to get lucky. I’ll get rid of the body.”
“Have you lost your fucking mind? You’re going to dispose of the body? We’re cops. We need to face up to this.”
It was about self-preservation. Pure and simple. That was McNeal’s rationale. But it was the same bullshit rationale he listened to day in and day out from bad cops.
“He pulled a knife on you, so you had to kill him. How about we plant a gun? Drop the Glock on the scene. It’s a suicide.”
“Not an option.”
“You’re the smart one. Don’t do this. We could drive off now.”
“I’m going to be arrested and face some serious time in jail. I’m not prepared for that. Besides, there’s too much evidence linking me to Graff. That’s why I need to get rid of this fucking body.”
Peter rubbed his face hard, shaking his head. “In the name of God. Jack, let’s drop the gun. It’s a simple suicide. It’ll work.”
“I’m not going to take the fall for the man who killed my wife. I don’t regret killing him. He deserved it.”
“This is not you talking.”
“If a body is found, they’ll start piecing it together. Slowly. It might look like suicide, but the cops wouldn’t leave it at that. Forensics would say that, from the angle of the bullet entry wound, it couldn’t have been suicide.”
“Fuck.”
“You see what I’m saying. We need to move the body.”
“In that case, I’m going to help you.”
“This is not your fight.”
“Shut the fuck up. It is now.”
McNeal’s mind raced.
“Let’s think about this. There’s no crime without a body. It would just be a missing person.”
McNeal bowed his head, realizing the chain of events had spiraled out of control. He’d lost his goddamn mind. That’s what had happened. He’d gone insane. Would that be how the court would see it? He was mad. Disordered thinking? Was that it? But the truth was he thought cogently. Rationally. He had killed without compunction. Maybe he did have something in common with Graff. Maybe his own grief had consumed him.
The body had to be moved. And it would be best to have some help. Another line being crossed.
“Jack!” Peter snapped. “Your car!”
“What?”
“We’ll use your car to get the body out of here. The trunk of your car.”
“Has to be.” McNeal’s insides had been ripped to shreds. “What the fuck am I doing? I should be calling this in, but I don’t want to serve out my days in a state penitentiary because of that fucker.”
“The time for second thoughts has come and gone.”
Jack nodded. “Let’s get rid of the fucker.”
He took a few moments to take some deep breaths and gather his thoughts. The smell of earth and swine manure carried across the stifling night air. He popped open his trunk.
Peter reversed his car and pulled up beside Jack. He also popped open his trunk. He took out the shovel and two bags of rock salt. He opened the first bag and poured out the contents over the spilled blood. He poured the second bag on top. And he shoveled dirt on that, covering it up.
Jack shone the flashlight on the mound of rust-colored dirt and salt grit. “I can’t see any visible signs of blood.”
“It wouldn’t pass the luminol test.” Peter put his shovel and empty bags of rock salt in the trunk.
Jack cleared his dry throat. “We need to move quick. We need to wrap up the body. But we also need to think how we can dispose of it.”
“What about the old-school method?”
McNeal bent over, sick. He knew what his brother was saying. “Where are we going to get what we need at this time of night?”
“I’ve been renovating our house, remember. I’ve got stuff in the trunk. DIY stuff. Builders’ equipment. Tools. It’s all in the trunk of my car.”