The Vending Machine, Part 2

“So you don’t know what happened to her?”

“No,” he said, “I don’t.”

“You were the last person seen with her.”

“Yes. No, I — I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“What? I mean –“

“Let’s go over the facts again. You, a Mr. Dennis, were seen with the missing woman heading into Kinley trail. An hour later, you walked out, alone.” I spread my hands. “There are two exits. None of the other joggers saw anyone on their way in or out. We’ve sent search parties into the woods and combed every half-inch of it. No one.”

I shrugged. “You called us. You can’t get your story straight. There was a, a what, a light? And then she was, what was it, taken? Into the sky? Babbling nonsense.”

“Look, I don’t know what I saw, okay? I was just there and then –“

“People don’t just disappear! Tell me what you did with her.”

He grimaced.

“I didn’t do anything with her. We were just talking!”

“Talking about what?”

“Her stupid obsession with god! She’s so sure there’s someone out there watching over us, and I was telling her, you know, that’s it’s a whole bunch of crap.”

“We have witnesses who say you were shouting at her.”

He avoided my gaze, drawing a deep breath. “I may have lost my temper. Just a little. But she’s been doing this for ages! Ever since she found that stupid cult –“

“Glenmarie Church of Christ?”

“Yes.” He muttered something under his breath.

“So I told her to come with me up the trail so we could talk it out. Just for a last time, you know? Then if she couldn’t listen to reason,” he spat, “I’d just get out of her loony life.”

“Did you strike her?”

“No.”

I waited. His knuckles were bruised, but clenched white.

“No! I didn’t! I would never hit Les.”

I sighed. “Look, just tell me what you did with her body, cut that crap about aliens out, and maybe we can get your sentence reduced –“

“I didn’t kill her,” he snarled.

“Then tell me the truth! Where did she go and what did you do with her?”

His face broke, and then softly, he began to speak. If he was going to confess, it would be now. I could feel it.

“We were halfway up the trail, at the clearing. And she, she was just going on and on — how happy she was and safe and secure she felt. Trusting in an invisible space cow.” He laughed to himself. “She asked me to come with her to that place, just one Sunday. One Sunday and maybe I could understand her better. I told her no. No way. Not touching that with a twenty foot pole. And if she wanted to throw away her logic and reasoning for god, if she wanted to throw away me –“

“I was so angry at her,” he said. “I yelled. I said some things I shouldn’t have maybe said, but she wouldn’t fight back. She just stood there and took it and smiled at me. I never knew a smile could cut so bad. And she said, maybe it just wasn’t meant to be, you know? If god wanted us to be together, he would change my heart like he’d changed hers. You could hear the reverence in her voice when she said God. Like a capital G, o, d. She said she hoped I’d be happy. She was sad that I’d chosen this, that she loved me, but she loved God more, and she couldn’t be with someone who didn’t love God too.”

He cradled his head in his hands. “So I punched the drinks machine. Twice. Told her if she loved god so much she should go be with him right now.”

“There was this huge rushing wind. Blew leaves and dust in my eyes. Knocked me down. I looked up at her, and she was surrounded in light. Bathing in it. Ethereal. She touched me on the shoulder,” he indicated the place, “and she looked at me. I said her name, but I couldn’t hear myself. There was only this noise, this, this, deep vibration like a thousand plucked strings. She turned. Looked up into the light and smiled, that fucking smile.”

“Then she was gone,” he said. “And me alone, with the whisper of her leaving.”

“You’re telling the truth.” I asked. It was a statement.

“Yes.”

“What did she say, at the end?”

“She said,” his voice heavy, “‘See you soon.'”