Page 5 of Shhh…It’s A Killer Story

“The black one was ugly, the pink one had sparkles.”

“The black one had better wheels.”

He wasn’t wrong. I hated when he wasn’t wrong. The suitcase bumped over another stone.

Thunk.

I winced.

“Careful,” Frank whispered.

“I am being careful.”

“Clearly.”

“If either of you would like to help…”

Both gnomes stared at me.

“We are ceramic,” Gerald said.

“A convenient excuse.”

“It’s literally our defining characteristic.”

Fair. I reached the trunk of my car and clicked the key fob. The lid lifted. Finally, I rested my hands on my knees and caught my breath.

“Horror authors,” people liked to say, “must have fascinating research habits.”

They’re right. Last month I spent three hours reading about blood spatter. The month before that I learned exactly how long fingerprints survive underwater. You’d be amazed what the internet lets you search without asking questions. Research. That’s all it was.

You know who would’ve loved this? Dr. Temperance Brennan. Unfortunately, she’s fictional. Which felt selfish, honestly. If fictional detectives and forensic anthropologists could stop solving murders for five minutes and come help me, I’d really appreciate it. Booth too. Mostly because he could carry things. Oh Bones, she’d know exactly what to do. Or, at the very least, she’d tell me facts and things. Then she’d explain it using words I’d have to Google. But no one was here. Hopefully… I hooked my fingers beneath the suitcase handle.

“One…”

“You’ll hurt your back,” Frank warned.

“Two…”

“Lift with your knees.”

“Three.”

With a grunt, I shoved the suitcase into the trunk. It landed with a heavy

THUD.

I stood there breathing hard.

“Well,” I said.

“That could’ve gone better.”

The night answered with silence. A throat cleared behind me. Every muscle in my body froze. Gerald froze. Frank froze. Even the wind seemed to think,

“…Well, this isn’t ideal.”

Slowly.