Page 102 of We Already Dug the Grave

She can’t do it. No matter what she said or what she wanted, she wasn’t up to pulling this off.

I should’ve known last night when she’d stood outside her house, terrified and moonlight pale, that when it came down to killing Burt, she was all talk. But she’d insisted and hadn’t even wanted to try my plan.

Maybe it should’ve pissed me off that now everything was in jeopardy when the stakes were at their highest, but I didn’t have it in me to be angry. This only proved my sister was no different than me: She didn’t want to hurt anyone.

All she wanted was to be free. To live her life without fear.

It wasn’t fair she had to kill for it.

As I watched Frances cycle through attempting to hold it together—sniffing tears, face scrunching, blank stare—I knew what I had to do. And it wouldn’t go over well.

We joined Ruth and Bunny on the porch, and I turned to my sister. “You can’t come.”

“What?” Ruth asked, brows steepling, forehead wrinkles deepening. “The plan only works if Frances is there.”

“Naw.” Bunny inhaled her cigarette and blew out a stream of smoke. She nodded at Frances. “Look at ’er. Milly’s right.”

“No.” Frances sniffed. “I’m fine. This is my problem, and I’ll see it through.” Her voice cracked.

Hattie-May put an arm around my sister, and Ruth blew out a breath. “Well shit. What do we do, then? We don’t have much time. We have to be on the road before Burt’s plane lands and he gets that message.”

“I think…” I bit my bottom lip. “I think we should still go. Ruth, you come with me and Bunny. Frances can stay here with Hattie-May.”

“And what exactly are we going to do when he shows up?” Ruth nervously plucked Bunny’s cigarette from Bunny’s fingers and took a drag. “I don’t see that going over too good.”

Frances’s face crumpled, “Of course I’m going and—”

“No,” I said firmly. My gaze drifted from my sister, to Ruth, to Bunny. “Showing up without Frances is a risk, but I think taking her like this is a bigger risk.” I looked at my sister. “You said Burt’s obsessed with me.”

“What?” Ruth asked.

“It’s true,” Frances said, giving me a knowing glance, pleading with me not to tell her secret. That she’d broken her word and told someone about Shane.

“Well, this keeps getting better and better.” Aunt Ruth’s voice was pure petulance, but she let me finish.

“If he’s obsessed with me, maybe we can use that. When he shows up, I’ll tell him I know where you are. I’ll explain everything, but we have to talk first. Say whatever it takes to get him into the room.”

“Won’t he just turn and leave?” Ruth asked.

“No.” Frances’s cycle of tears and face-scrunching was interrupted with a look of thoughtfulness. “It could work. He’d be intrigued.”

“Yeah. You said he loves a game,” I said.

“Won’t he be suspicious?” This question from Bunny.

“Maybe. Burt’s always suspicious of everyone all the time. But the thing about my dear husband is, he never sees anyone as a real threat. He’ll play until he’s bored.”

Ruth rocked on the heels of her boots and thumped the cigarette into the yard. “How the hell are we supposed to get the poison in him? Jesus, this feels like a clusterfu—”

“Language, Ruthie,” Hattie-May interjected.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But we will because we don’t have a choice.”

“Could we put it in a syringe?” Ruth asked Hattie-May, who shrugged.

“Oh, I don’t know, dearie.” Hattie-May shook her head. “I’ve never done that. But it won’t take much. If it crosses his lips, he’ll go down like that.” She snapped her fingers. Her expression grew serious. “It’s potent. Mind you don’t ingest any yourself or get it in your eye.”

“Maybe.” Bunny appeared thoughtful. “We are setting this up as a drug overdose. Guess it won’t matter if an autopsy finds the injection site. But either of you have a syringe lying around?”