Short Stories & Such: Killing Your Best Friend’s Wife, Draft 4

There was a writing prompt from Writer’s Digest titled: Killing Your Best Friend’s Wife. You had to write about how the character confronted the victim and how the murder played out. Here's my third shot at it:
                                                                           Killing Your Best Friend’s Wife
Harry’s not the kind of close friend one lets down. His idea of a good time was playing chess with the boss’s daughter, frosting in mind. Yet, his wife, Patty, was innocent as a fawn chewing green pasture in the middle of hunting season. Harry couldn’t afford to have her anymore. He had gotten too big. Too corporate. Too stained. And nosy wives were an obstacle.
Harry wanted Victor’s help in killing her.
To Harry’s expectation, Victor agreed without hesitation- not because he disliked his wife, but because she’s the only person who knew Victor’s deepest and darkest secret that could ruin his life forever. The truth of him committing credit card fraud was nothing compared to that. Luckily, she never found out about the hijacked cars, the business computer hack, or cleaning up after Harry. Nothing like that particular secret: participating in her best friend’s suicide attempt.
Harry got all of the materials ready for the big day. He had it all figured out, too. Victor was to pick Patty up from the airport since she traveled to visit her mother out of state. Then, Victor was to deliver a demise to which she would not return.
When the big day arrived, Victor did not hurry to his destination. He first had to imagine Patty dead and remove any small grain of pity from his heart. He envisioned his fingers around her swan neck while he puffed a smoke.  
“Hi, Victor.” Patty put her bags down and gave Victor a quick hug. Little did she know it would be the last attempt to save herself. 
“Hi, Patty.” Victor reached down for the bags and placed them in the trunk. “Sorry, your husband couldn’t make it.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure he's far too busy at the office.” She brushed some loose hair from her face. “But I’m glad someone took the time to come.”
On the freeway, Victor pictured Patty’s bulging eyes and pale cheeks as his fingers squeezed...
“You know, Vic, you don’t have to just drive on account of Harry. He might be a little bossy, busy, and ungrateful for all you do, but I’m not. I can see how much you have helped him.” 
Throughout the trip, Patty did most of the talking. Even when Victor took the wrong exit, she talked, probably due to nervousness. Her hands shook on her lap when she wasn't using them. And when Victor pulled into a deserted gas station, locked her side of the door, and placed his leather gloves on, she stuttered.
“What are you doing, Vic?”
Tears streamed down Patty’s eyes as she clutched her mother’s necklace. 
Victor placed some drops on a handkerchief. “Don’t take this the wrong way…” and he smothered her mouth with it.
Patty struggled to break free, but Victor was too strong for her petite body. 
“There,” Victor licked her cheek.
She shrieked, and Victor pressed again, snapping her neck, keeping her motionless. 
Victor caressed her face and smoothed out her fine brown hair. 
“Won’t Harry be proud?”