“It’s been a while.” Vanessa sighed, closing her car door. She straightened her skirt and walked forward, black heels clicking against the eroded asphalt. She came to a stop in front of a headstone. The headstone had been freshly laid, yet there was no dirt disrupted around it. She laid an ornate blanket on the ground next to the headstone. She smoothed the wrinkles – fingertips running over the detailed embroidery, coming to a stop at the corner with lettering that read “Property of the Monroe Estate”. Vanessa lowered herself to the ground, facing the headstone.

“The town, they miss you. They can’t believe that you’re really gone. Or rather, they won’t. Maryanne still hands out your posters at the diner. I even found one on the way here. The Garrisons are still fighting to get your face on a milk carton. The city thinks it’s a waste, though.” She stifled a chuckle and looked down at the missing poster in her hand. It was printed poorly, probably by Maryanne in the breakroom of the diner. The picture on it was old. It had been crudely cropped so as to exclude a certain husband. She folded it and put it in her purse before beginning again.

“I think you’d be happy to know – they almost got him behind bars. When they found your blood all over that hotel room, they were able to trace the booking back to Earl. He was paying for it under some alias, I think it was Lera? He just rearranged the letters of his name. Stupid, really. As soon as the police got the tip that you had been to the hotel, the dominoes fell.” Vanessa shook her head.

“They checked the hotel records. Turns out he had been taking flings there for months, almost a year. I still can’t believe that in this small of a town, no one found out. As far as we can tell, aside from the flings, only one person knew. In court it came out that as long as the hotel receptionist got Tuesdays with him and a little bit of cash on Fridays, she would give ‘Lera’ a suite whenever he asked.” Vanessa’s face twisted in disgust. She took a breath and readjusted the flowers on the grave.

“I wonder if Earl left these here – maybe he felt some sort of remorse. If not for killing you, then for cheating on you, surely? Same difference, I suppose. His cheating is what led you here. The police interviewed everyone staying at the hotel that night. No one saw or heard anything. When they checked the books, they saw that the receptionist hadn’t put anyone else on the same floor as Earl’s room that night. Yet, Dina’s family from out of town was told there wasn’t any vacancy. They had to cram everyone in Dina’s little trailer! I know you didn’t care for her much at all, but imagine how horrible that must’ve been. Because of the suspicious bookings the police suspect the receptionist was in on more than just the affairs, she could’ve been an accessory. It’s a shame, she fled town the very next day. They think she took your body with her, but no one’s proved it.” Vanessa glanced at her car.

“The trial was gruesome. I’m not sure if you would’ve loved or hated seeing Earl such a wreck. His lawyers tried their hardest, but the prosecutors got five different women he’d taken to the hotel on their side. That, the blood all over the sheets, and his gun in the dumpster behind the hotel did him in. He was supposed to get a life sentence – no chance of parole – but hours before the verdict he hung himself in his bedroom. Your bedroom.” Vanessa brought her knees to her chest. For a moment, her apathetic demeanor dropped. She appeared genuinely disturbed and her face went a bit pale. She took a long pause before beginning again.

“The cops still haven’t found your body, but from what I can tell they haven’t given up. They’ve searched every inch of this town, and they’ve got the state police checking all over too. Mr. Roberts even took up fishing again, to find you. His old hands may not be as skilled as they were, but he thinks he can fish up something – or some part of you – to put to rest under this grave. Your sister Bea, she’s taking it the worst. She was the first person to report you missing. Just six hours after you left the house, according to the police reports.” She took a deep breath.

“She inherited the house and your money, but not Earl’s. He hid his money well – rumor is he was planning to run so he withdrew it all and stashed the cash somewhere. Bea’s been doing renovations and hasn’t found a drop of it. She’s been turning it into what you always wanted, getting rid of Earl bit by bit. She built a lovely memorial garden for you, all your favorite flowers surrounding a stone table, with an old tea set on it. She talks of how much she’d love to have a tea party with you, like you did as kids.” Vanessa’s voice cracked and her eyes welled with tears. She closed her eyes and sat in silence for a while.

“I know how unhappy you were, but I miss you too. I miss how the world hadn’t hardened you yet. I know how helpless you felt, but I know you did absolutely everything in your power to get out.” Vanessa took a pause, glancing around.

“It’s just a shame that in order for you to be free, you have to be dead to them.” With that, Vanessa stood. Before turning to leave, she brushed the thin layer of dirt off the lettering on the headstone. Her rose painted lips flicked into a soft smile as she read it’s engraving.

Dearly departed, Vanessa Monroe.