John Croft Casefile: Ghosts in Mexico

     He drove in silence.  He had tried to turn the radio on and this deep into the New York countryside all he got was sporadic chatter between static.  After awhile the chatter began to speak to him and he didn’t like what it was saying. 

     It wasn’t what the voices were saying that bothered him. It was the arguments they had trying to persuade him to turn around.  Go back to New York City and turn himself into the police.  Face justice for the crimes he had committed and die in prison.

     But John knew. 

     As the voices faded and the static returned he knew he was right in leaving. 

     He knew he had committed no crime.

     “But what about your daughter’s death,” a shrill voice broke the static to say.

     “Yes I drove the car drunk,” he replied as the static returned. “I was given a punishment and I a still tormented by it.  The worst punishment though was not having my Marie. But now she is back.”

     “What about the girl in your apartment,” a different voice screeched from the static.

     “That wasn’t real.  I didn’t do that.”  He replied.  “You tried to get me in arrested.  To get me out of the way but Marie saved me.”

     “What about your friend,” a final voice reverberated out of the car speakers. 

     John turned the radio off.

     “What about you, Peter,” John said to the body slumped in the passenger seat next to him.

     The car sat on the side of the road a good ways from where John stood over Peter’s body. 

     He left the running lights on but not the headlights hoping to avoid attracting any unwanted attention from someone who would be on the dirt road at this time of night. 

     Although he was pretty sure if someone was on this road they were probably not up to any good also.

     “Well, you deserved better than this at one point in your life, Peter, but you tried to kill me and I think you deserve to be buried like a piece of shit.”

     John kicked some more leaves over the body.