and just bright enough so I could see to do my work. I unwrapped the second bundle of plastic and put together the sections of my portable shovel. I dug.
A deep and narrow hole is best. The less surface area there is, the less chance of someone finding your buried treasure by accident. Although I suppose if you bury something deep enough and no one sees you do it your secret will never be discovered no matter how much it spreads out.
I was happy with my work so I climbed up out of the hole. In went the good doctor’s hiking clothes and his hat. I opened up the pregnancy empathy-belly and took out Allen’s severed arms and feet. The arms were cut up into segments so they would fit inside the belly. The feet fit fine as is. The whole bunch was mashed together and it was triple bagged in thick, black contractor bags so it didn’t leaked. I don’t know why I did it, but I opened up the bags to look inside and make sure everything was still there. It was. I re-knotted the bags and tossed the stuff into the hole, and then I opened up the backpack and hauled out the rest of my psychiatrist. I dropped the triple-bagged mess into the hole, filled it back up with dirt, and made my way down the steep hill.
On my way out of the forest, I buried the backpack, the padding clothes, and the empathy belly, each of them separately. I didn’t bury them nearly as well as I buried the other things, but I did well enough to know they won’t ever be found. The portable shovel went into the widest part of river I passed. The way I took out of the forest wasn’t the way I came into it. I went in a different direction, to where I’d parked my car. I was careful not to break any traffic laws as I drove the empty streets back to my psychiatrist’s office.
I parked my car in between buildings, four blocks away, and I used back alleys to hide my progress. Before long I’d used Allen’s keys to let myself in the side door. I stood in the doorway of the office. Laying there on the couch in the quiet dark, Cath was just as I’d left her. The night had already lasted forever. I wanted to snap my fingers and see Cath come back to normal. I’d no doubt she’d be herself again. It was just that I wanted it over. But I couldn’t wake Cath in Allen’s office, not in the middle of the night. There’d be too much I couldn’t explain away.
I took Cath’s hand and started to lift her. She moved. It was like she was sleepwalking. I gave Cath’s hand a little tug and she sat up, and then she got up from the couch. Cath followed behind me from the office to the side door. When I let go of Cath’s hand to open the door for her, she stopped dead and wouldn’t go through or move at all. She wanted me to lead her. Hand in hand, we walked the dark alleyways to my car, together. I drove Cath to her house, led her inside, and settled her into bed.
Cath’s upstairs bathroom worked fine as a place to clean myself up. I saw my phone for the first time that night. Cath had called me to help her. She’d had car trouble. I’d turned my phone off for the movie and left it that way for the murder. You normally want to do that. When Cath called and I didn’t pick up my phone she called a friend to drop her off at Allen’s. That’s why she was there so late and why her car wasn’t out in front.
The sun was starting to come up outside. I decided to tell Cath that Doctor Allen put her under hypnosis and he hadn’t been able to bring her out of it. That’d give her more than enough reason to switch psychiatrists and never see Allen again. On second thought, she’d definitely want to see him again, to bawl him out. But I knew I could talk her down from that. I’d tell Cath that when the idiot psychiatrist realized he couldn’t bring her out, he’d gone through her phone looking for someone to call and found me. I’d brought her back home and like prince charming, succeeded in waking her up when no one else could. Another tie to bind.
I cleared my throat, took Cath’s hand in mine, and snapped my fingers. Nothing happened. I waited, patiently I waited. I snapped again and again – inches in front of Cath’s face, right into her ear, left hand, right hand, both hands. Nothing worked. She wouldn’t wake up. I couldn’t wake her up. I panicked. For I don’t know how long, I was out of it. I really wept, and when all the tears were cried out of my head, I sat on the bed next to Cath sobbing dry. It was then that the answer to our problem came into my head.
We waited ‘til it was dark, then Cath and I went for a drive. I parked and we walked, hand in hand. It was much easier for me this time because I had so much less to carry. I led and Cath followed along behind me, all through the forest and up to the top of the steep half-hill beside the ravine. I stood Cath over out of the way to one side and gave her the lantern to hold. Cath let her arm drop, but she held the lantern for me and the soft light lit her face from below.
I dug. The shovel was the one Cath used for her garden. I reached the bottom of the hole.
“Won’t be a minute,” I told Cath. I brushed the dirt off and I found what we’d come for. I got up out of the hole and stood there in front of Cath. She heard the sound of the snap.
Cath woke on a hill in a dark forest. The soft glow of the lantern in her hand did not reach far. Ben stood in front of a narrow hole too deep for lantern-light. Beside the hole, her gardening shovel was stuck in the ground. Sometimes Ben held hands with her, they called it same hand-same hand. His bigger right hand went over the back of her small right hand like spoons. That was the way Ben held the severed hand-and-forearm. Cath screamed and stepped back but there was nowhere to step. She tipped backwards over the edge of the half-hill. The lantern in Cath’s hand lit her fall. The light dropped over the edge into the ravine, growing so small so fast. It blinked out and the world was dark.
~ ~ ~ ~
Atop a desk in the late Doctor Allen’s office there sat a tape recorder, and there it sat until Wednesday of the following week. Wednesday was the day the policeman, inquiring into the psychiatrist’s disappearance, found the recorder gathering dust. The policeman clicked the play button down. A dead man’s voice echoed.
“I am making my observations early today. Just got a call from Catharine; she won’t be on time for her session. Car trouble. She’s going to try and call her boyfriend to pick her up and drop her off. Flat tires are inconvenient for everyone, but at least something interesting’s coming out of this one. I would love to see them together.
“On a more serious note, I’m afraid my court-ordered patient is onto me. He came out of his trance by himself today and said something about doctor patient privilege. And that’s on top of last week’s session. Knew he was off, and I’m certain now. Last Friday he wasn’t hypnotized at all. He sat there wide awake, watching me do paperwork. My word carries a great deal more weight than his, but it doesn’t do to let things like that get out.”
…
“Ah, the sound of my front door opening. It must be Catharine. I hope her boyfriend hasn’t left yet. I’m curious to meet him.”
###
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