Desert Grave

Promotional Copy

Desert Grave
Copyright © 2009 by Glenn E. Sasscer, Jr.
Published by Geez Press
Imprint of Geez Press Publications

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a

retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical,
photocopy, recording, or otherwise, except as provided by USA copyright law.

Cover design and illustration: Geez Press Publications

Illustrations © 2009 by Geez Press Publications

Published in the United States of America

ISBN 978-0-9816574-2-4
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number “Pending”
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Desert Grave
Promotional Copy

The Lexus idled next to the abandoned gas station.

Darren Miller sulked in the driver seat, growing impatient.
The flat hills in the distance shimmered in the desert
heat, giving Darren the impression the air itself was on fire.
And why not? Anytime he stepped from the air-conditioned
Lexus into the miserable scorching sun, each breath seemed
like an inferno within his lungs. Using only a little
imagination, he could see the air burning in a raging
firestorm, sweeping down the forgotten highway with an
unquenchable hunger. The thought sent a shudder through
Darren.
What would it consume?
He ignored the question. A lesser man might be
tempted to listen to the inner voice, even tempted to hold
conversations, but that would be courting insanity. Darren
knew the dangers of listening to the annoying voice.
But would a lesser man let his wife cheat on him, buddy-
boy?
Darren suppressed the thought, stealing a glance at the
faded white door on the side of the neglected building. The
block letters spelling WOMEN were gone, faded away under
the constant abuse of the desert sun, leaving only the faint
traces of their outline shimmering through the heat.

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How long does it take her to pee?

The engine purred, kicking to a higher idle as the air
conditioner cycled through a cooling stage. He slammed the
steering wheel with the palm of his hand and wondered if the
weekend trip was worth the aggravation… an easy answer
while he sat waiting for Morissa on the return trip home. She
had been so frustrating at the resort, infuriating him with her
complaints, her whining, and arguments!
This was going to be the marriage that worked, the
crowning achievement to blot out the failure of the last four
weddings. He promised himself every effort to make this one
work. He would control his anger! He would control the voice!
He thought the weekend trip to Dustin’s, a private
desert resort, would put the marriage back on track.
Derailed it, though, huh?
He had the trip planned for three weeks, shortly after
Tom Salisbury, the private investigator, handed him the
convincing photographs.
And wasn’t he just a high priced voyeur? That’s all guys
like Tom were when you got down to the fine print, buddy-boy,
just highly paid voyeurs out snapping photos of people’s
cheating spouses.
“Plus expense,” he was reminded when signing the
contract. “Daily fees, plus expenses.”
Five days later, he met the voyeur for hire in a Hooter’s
Restaurant, ordering a couple of beers before getting to
business. Tom handed over the plain brown, ominous looking
envelope with a look a caution, as if there were a ticking bomb
within the folds. “Are you sure you want to see these?”
Darren remembered wanting to smack The Voyeur Tom,
right there in the middle of the restaurant. He wanted to
smack the “put-on-look of distress” right off his face, shove
something down his throat to smother the grave voice
speaking in a false tone of concern. What did he care? He
cared for five days worth of fees and expenses! He made his
fees and now he asked if Darren wanted to live in denial?
The question alone provided enough to convince
Darren. In that instant, it was no longer a question of what
the photos would reveal, it was a question of how much would
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be revealed… to what depths had the deception reached?

What dark secrets lay within the folds of the plain brown
envelope? How far did the betrayal extend? His anger asked
the question, and deep down he really wanted to know, so he
slid the evidence from the envelope.
The first photo caught his breath, seemingly stopping
time as he stared at the face of the man she was embracing.
The restaurant ceased to exist for several moments as the
shock rippled through him. He had braced himself. He had
tried to prepare himself, slipping in and out of denial too many
times to count. He thought he was ready for whatever story
the pictures would tell him. He even went as far as pre-
forgiving his wife for whatever he might discover, truly
yearning to salvage his fifth marriage before it was completely
ruined.
He walked through many scenarios and held imaginary
conversations leading up to this moment, but none would
have equipped him for seeing the familiar face looking back at
him from the black and white shots. The same face appeared
in many of the wedding photographs on their fireplace mantle.
The same face smiled while standing in a place of honor as the
Best Man, a place of privilege and respect reserved for the
groom’s best friend, Bruce Gaines.

Excerpt: “Desert Grave”, by Glenn Sasscer

Glenn Sasscer
glenn@sasscer.com
www.glennsasscer.com

Download the entire story at www.glennsasscer.com.