Surface

The man sat alone at the end of the bar, his mood foul as he pounded back his third beer. The bartender kept her distance while quietly observing him. His rage rolled off him in powerful dark waves. He was tall with muscles rippling under his tight black shirt. His face was ruggedly handsome and the deep scar across his cheek added to the dangerous air he had about him.

As he slammed his empty mug down against the bar, she hustled over with another beer and slipped away without a word. It went on like this for hours. The more he drank, the darker his mood became. The bartender was about to approach, ask him to settle up and go, when another man came over. He was small and slight, moving awkwardly in his blue jeans and white polo shirt. The two men were polar oppositions and seemingly had no reason to know each other.

The bartender listened as unobtrusively as possible when they began to talk. “Damn it, Jay! I told you this would happen.” The small man exclaimed angrily. “Everything was fine! Bitch was gone. Life was good. Now they’re going and fucking digging up the past!”

“Timmy…What the hell are you talking about?” Jay growled back.

“They’re exhuming her body! There’s DNA now. What if they find out what we did?”

That got Jay’s attention. “There is NO WAY that body is coming to the surface.” A twisted smile formed. “But that’s your problem, man. There ain’t nothing linking me to the crime. Don’t forget… YOU pulled the trigger.”

A bottle slipped from the bartender’s fingers, crashing to the floor. She immediately turned to them, hoping desperately they didn’t see her, didn’t know she overheard everything. Her heart sank when she saw their expressions. They knew.

Both men stood abruptly, knocking their bar stools to the ground. She vaulted over the bar and took off running. The police station was just down the block. If only she could make it there before they caught up to her...

She dialed 911 on her cell phone as she ran. The operator answered on the fifth ring, hearing only the bartender's plea for help before the line went dead.
__________

It took the better part of a week for the prosecutor to get the appropriate paperwork signed by the judge so they could exhume the body. Jane Anderson had been a wonderful woman. A great mom. A stellar teacher, loved by everyone who knew her.

Everyone, except her husband.

It was the perfect crime. No one would suspect that the geeky accountant would hook up with the construction foreman to plot the murder. It had gone off so smoothly.

The police were baffled for years. But then that nosy bitch's family got in the way, again. They somehow convinced the police to reopen the case, investigate some new angle and they were going to find his DNA on the body, unless he found a way to stop the truth from surfacing...

______________

The prosecutor marched the order to the cemetary, where the heavy equipment necessary to dig up the coffin was already waiting. She delivered the paperwork to the funeral directory and his attorney. Once they had the all-clear, the machines went to work.

The coffin slid slowly from the ground. Everyone braced themselves as the lid was lifted. They were shocked at what waited for them inside.

Instead of Jane's corpse, they found Tim's.

Shot through the forehead, with a wound that looked fresh. The gun lay on his chest. Forensic testing would reveal that this gun was, in fact, the same one which killed Jane exactly three years ago.

Was Tim the killer? Was it someone else? How did his body get into the coffin and what the hell happened to Jane's?

The crumpled note inside Tim's pocket said it all... "I guess you'll never know."