Page 110 of We Already Dug the Grave

I opened my mouth, but Ruth spoke first. “Burt, he told you we were having a get-together?”

“That’s right.” Mama nodded, unease seeping into her voice. “He said y’all had gotten a place in Alabama where we could visit, since I can’t leave the state on account of my parole.”

“Son of a bitch,” Bunny said again.

Mama frowned. “I wondered why we didn’t all go to Frances’s house, but he said that couldn’t happen right now. Something about the media watching his family because his brother might make a bid to run for something or the other.” Mama shrugged. “Sounded like snobby bullshit to me, but beggars can’t be choosers.”

“Burt was here? You were with him?” I croaked.

“That’s right,” Mama said. The last remnants of her smile fell from her face. “Why are y’all so spooked?”

“I’m sorry, Lily,” Ruth said again. “But this wasn’t a planned reunion. I can explain later, but right now, can you tell me exactly what Burt said? Where was he going? Did he tell you?”

“Yeah.” Mama narrowed her gaze. “He said he had to go get Frances.” She paused. “Where’s Aunt Hattie?”

Fear tightened my throat. “Did he say anything about how he knew Frances wouldn’t be here?”

“No.” Mama’s head swiveled, taking in each of us. “What the hell’s going on?”

What was going on?

Frances had warned that Burt couldn’t resist a game, and she wasn’t lying because this felt like check fucking mate. And maybe I was a few moves behind, but I knew one thing.

“We have to go. Now,” I said. “Otherwise, Burt wins.”

Chapter 42

Now

Leaving Alabama was a violation of Mama’s parole. If Mama were caught across state lines, she’d go back to prison, no exceptions. We sped down the highway, the trees blurring by, tangled together in a backseat that was not built for two adults. I pleaded with her, “Let us drop you somewhere—a McDonald’s, a Target, anywhere to kill time. We can call you a car to take you back. You don’t have to do this.”

“No.” She set her jaw. “He’s after my girls. My girls. He brought me here because he knew it would hurt y’all.” Mama shook her head. “I’m going to make sure he regrets that. I’m helping see this through.”

There was no changing her mind, so as Bunny gunned it, I gave Mama the condensed version of everything that lead us here, while Ruth frantically called Hattie-May’s house phone. It beeped over and over with a busy signal.

“Dammit. Phone’s off the hook,” Ruth said, immediately calling again. “I can’t believe we didn’t leave them with a cell.” Aunt Hattie only had the house phone, and Frances’s phone was at the bottom of the Tennessee River.

Bunny pressed harder on the gas, while I was seized by a feeling of dread that I was overlooking something that could cost us dearly.

When we crossed into Tennessee, I didn’t miss the look of worry that spread over Mama’s face. How she paled. How her breathing sped. She acted tough, but this wasn’t easy for her. Seeing her like this threw gasoline on the rage sparking inside me. I hated Burt like I’d never hated anyone before.

By the time we passed Ruth’s bones, I felt like I would combust. Like my anger would burn me up from the inside out, cooled only by the arctic pit of dread pooling in my stomach.

The house appeared in front of us.

Bunny jerked the wheel and punched the brake as we all rushed out of the car, our eyes pinned on the scene before us.

The flower pots tipped over in disarray. Frances gripped tightly by the upper arm, panting hard. Hattie-May, crumpled on the ground, unmoving. “Well look who it is, sweets.” Burt’s words were one big smirk. “The gang’s all here.”

“You asshole!” Ruth screamed, darting toward them, Bunny, Mama, and me following in her wake.

“Stop right there,” Burt ordered, his hand tightening around Frances’ arm. His fingers dug into my sister as he jerked her around to completely face us. He didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to. If we didn’t do as he said, Frances would pay for it.

He’d enjoy it.

Burt’s brown hair was combed back from an angular face, with brows perfectly arched over bloodshot, honey-toned eyes.

People talked about how good-looking he was, but seeing him up close, I saw that it was all smoke and mirrors. Burt Anderson was a regular, cruel man with enough money and attitude to convince the public he was special.