They'd found her. Just the way he'd planned. It served that asshole Gildersleeve right. Putting her in his pool had been a perfect touch. It was like killing two birds with one stone. There was only one sour note. He wished Gloria's parents had been forced to identify her instead of the husband. After all, Danowski had nothing to do with it. It was the parents he wanted to suffer. And they would. They'd see her-in the coffin. He could picture the mother whining and crying, sniveling and wringing her hands, calling for her baby Gloria. The father would keep it all in, tough it out. But inside, his guts would be aching, like his own had ached all those years. Still ached.
Should he go to the funeral? he wondered. Better not. But he could imagine it. He smiled. When they lowered the coffin into the ground and Gloria's parents watched, that was the part he would be sorry to miss. Sorry to miss the dirt falling on top of the casket, shovelful by shovelful.
He could still hear it even though it was all those years ago- that plopping sound, just as real now as it was then. So maybe Gloria Danowski's parents would dream about it long as they lived, like he did. Plop, plop, plop.
And the kids, too. Why should they have it easy? Now they won't. They'll miss their Mommy. Good. He missed his Mommy, even now. And Daddy, too. He missed his Daddy. He missed his Mommy. I ain't had any satisfaction.
Tears coursed over his cheeks and dripped from his face onto the desk. He put his head down. Thinking of Mommy and Daddy. Crying. Lonely. Little boy. All alone. Crying. Calling for Mommy. Calling for Daddy.
Nobody came.