“Jesus. Just—Jesus,” said Amelia, staring at the decomposing body. “How long do you think it’s been here?”
I examined it where it was sprawled on the back porch, facing the ocean, its skin blackened and clinging to the bones—like it had been vacuum sealed—its wispy hair fluttering. "Hard to say. Few weeks. Maybe a month.” I batted away the flies. “Long enough for the organs to liquify.”
“How—how do you know?”
I studied the holes in its head, a smaller one which was about the size of a dime and a larger, more cavernous one—the exit wound. “Because, otherwise, there’d be brains all over.” I stepped over it and picked up the g*n, checked its chamber. “There’s still bullets in it.”
She stared at me tentatively as I closed the chamber and gripped the weapon in both hands—neither of us sayin
