“Do you think she killed herself? She probably came all the way out here so nobody would find her, right? Chris!”
Chris was staring absently at the partly dressed skeleton, when his friend’s voice woke him. “Probably suicide.” he repeated, “Since last month when we were here.”
“No. Her head’s bashed in. Besides, her skirt is to far from the body. Raped and killed!” He was strangely unaffected by the whole thing. “And she has been here for more than a month. Bones’re all clean. She was probably buried under the roots of the old oak tree, and now that the wind blew it over…” he left the sentence hanging.
“But the windstorm was two weeks ago! Somebody must’ve found her”
“Nobody comes by here! That’s the reason why we’re here!”
They used to smoke weed once every few weeks, by the old oak just outside of town, so nobody could see them together; Chris’ friend was from a well of family, and his parents would have not approved of the friendship, and in a small town like that secrets have short lives. Chris didn’t mind the hiding. The guy was an idiot, but he paid for the dope.
The teenage boy picked up a small object which was laying next tot the corpse. “Look!” Chris recognised the object immediately. He had seen it in old photos. He hoped his companion didn’t detect his shock at seeing the object, but the boy was enjoying their discovery too much for such subtleties. As the other one explored the brownish bones with childish glee, Chris had time to make some connections.
“It’s a good place to hide a body! She hasn’t been found in thirty years!” he finally said.
“How can you be so sure?”
“A girl goes missing in this town, everybody knows! The last time it happened it was that Karen Bell girl, thirty years ago!”
“Great! If we tell the police, we’ll be like heroes! In all the papers, and TV”
“Yeah, too bad nobody is going to find out.”
“What d’you mean?”
“Come on over here a bit.” he said in a strangely serious tone.
“Just get over here! Will ya?” But his friend was backing up, he didn’t get far as he tripped on a tree stomp. Chris lunged towards him and he grabbed the sharp rock he saw next to the corpse.
As he was walking home, Chris was studying the ring. It was just as his granma’ had described it. It had belonged to his granddad, whom he never met. When he died Chris’ father was very young. He inherited the ring, and was supposed to pass it on, but when he was fifteen he lost it. All he ever said about that was that it had been a bad day. It was the same day the