She followed the signs.
She followed the signs.
Damnit. I have these memories of South Carolina.
A road just the same as the photos I see of that lake in Lockhart South Carolina and I have memories. But my memories are not memories. I have memories of thoughts. I remember thoughts. I have thoughts of me and that highway in the isolated countryside and of bullet casing along the roadside and of foot tracks in the dirt and of a body that is encased in some kind of hardened casing and that is in a lake and thoughts of how that is my body encased in that lake and of how no one is going to find that body.
Memories of signs alongside that isolated road in South Carolina of how she put them in the trunk of her red car.
http://www.trutv.com/library/crime/notorious_murders/famous/smith/unthinkable_2.html
tru TV
By Rachel Pergament
The Letter
It was a mild October night in Union. Susan had been driving around for the last hour, trying to calm herself. She drove along Highway 49 and followed the signs to John D. Long Lake. Before driving to the lake on this evening, she had never before been there. Susan preferred to take her sons to the pond at Foster Park, which was closer to her home. At Foster Park, Susan and her sons would feed breadcrumbs to the ducks.
Once she arrived at the shore of John D. Long Lake, Susan drove across a portion of the seventy-five-foot boat ramp and parked in the middle of the ramp. The ramp was unpaved and consisted of gravel and stones. Susan sat quietly behind the wheel of her 1990 burgundy Mazda Protégé, listening to the sounds of her two young sons sleeping. Michael, her oldest son had celebrated his third birthday two weeks earlier and Alex was fourteen months old. Susan was twenty-three, with long, sandy blond hair
