A local woman missing- Mary Kubica

trees were here before the homes. They provide coverage. No one
can see us, we think.
My house is dark. The porch lights are off. Josh must have
forgotten to turn them on for me. He often does. It has to be the
middle of the night. If Josh were to wake, he’d be worried. But Josh
is a sound sleeper. The odds of him waking up are slim. It’s far more
likely one of the kids would wake up and come looking for me.
I wonder about Jason. Is he sound asleep like Josh, or is he
awake, worried, wondering why Shelby isn’t home from her run?
I slink into the garage. I leave the lights off. I move by rote. I find
the bleach and return to Bea. It’s cold outside. Only now, as the
adrenaline slows, do I notice. I start to shiver. It’s slight at first, but
then turns considerable. My body jerks.
Bea takes the bleach from my hand. “I’ll take it from here,” she
says. “Go take a shower and go to bed. And remember, not a word
to anyone, do you hear? Not a word.”
I offer to help Bea clean. She doesn’t want my help.
Before she leaves, she makes me strip naked.
“Why?” I ask.
“Just do it,” she says.
On my own front lawn, I stand and strip down to my underwear
and bra. I’m too devastated to be self-conscious. Bea takes my
clothes from me. “What are you doing with those?” I ask. They’re
covered in mud, in blood.
“I have to get rid of them. They’re evidence,” is what she says, and
then, “Go home, Meredith. Go home to your husband and kids.
Forget all about what happened tonight.”
She starts to walk away from me. I grab her arm. “And if I can’t?” I
ask, knowing I’ll never forget this night.
“You need to,” she says as she shrugs me off and leaves.