Botelho’s pickup truck bounced up and down with every pothole on the dirt road. Durval tried to keep his casted leg resting on the vehicle’s floor, but it jumped up with every jolt. He looked at Botelho, who kept his eyes fixed on the road, both hands on the wheel, and a grim expression on his face, not even blinking. It was strange to see Botelho silent, always so talkative and lively.
In the middle of the two, Dolores seemed to have caught Botelho’s gloomy mood; she was motionless, staring ahead, squeezing Durval’s hand with every bump of the vehicle.
“I found the corpse.”
The phrase wouldn’t leave Durval’s mind. It was certain that Botelho wasn’t quite right in the head, full of paranoia, but the biology teacher had said loud and clear: “I found the corpse.” After the bombshell revelation, there wasn’t much time for conversations or explanations; Botelho insisted on showing them in person so they wouldn’t think he was making it up.
Durval could hardly believe that after weeks of hardships, he was about to solve the mystery. However, he didn’t feel very comfortable with the fact that Dolores had insisted on coming along. The woman didn’t have the strength to face a corpse, especially since, after weeks, it probably wouldn’t be a pleasant sight. She would end up fainting or feeling sick. On the other hand, Durval would be even more worried if Dolores weren’t nearby; what if the murderer decided to come to his house? The guy had already tried to kill him by pushing him off a cliff; who knew what he might try now?
On the other hand, and Durval felt a chill down his spine when the thought occurred to him, they could be right next to the murderer at that very moment. After all, when he had fallen off the cliff in the car, he had clearly seen a F1000 pickup truck, exactly like Botelho’s. What if the professor was taking them to the middle of nowhere to get rid of them? Durval felt foolish for not being more cautious.
He looked once more at Botelho.
— Is it far?
— We’re almost there. Patience — said the professor.
Durval looked ahead. The road continued down a steep dirt slope. He looked out the window; the passenger side mirror showed the dust trail the pickup was leaving behind. They must have been over five kilometers from the center, more and more getting lost in the deserted outskirts of the city. A perfect place for a double homicide of an old couple.
And then Botelho stopped the pickup.
Durval looked around. There was nothing. Just a dense thicket on one side and a dirt wall on the other.
— Is this it? — Durval asked.
Botelho didn’t answer. He looked in the rearview mirror, as if to make sure they hadn’t been followed. Then he pulled the handbrake and got out of the car. He went to the passenger side and looked towards the thicket, then turned to Durval and signaled with a nod for them to get out.
Dolores squeezed Durval’s hand tightly. Whatever was about to happen, there was no turning back. Durval opened the door and got out of the pickup.
JOSÉ GASPARFilmmaker and writerwww.historiasdooutromundo.comjagramos@gmail.com