Page 114 of We Already Dug the Grave

Burt was bad. More than bad: He was evil. He’d killed and abused and who knows what else.

He was also wrong. I’d killed Shane. Not Frances. “Do it, Milly, please,” Frances called out, desperation seeping from her tone. “Kill him.”

“Listen to your sister. This is what she wants more than anything,” he said. Then quieter, where only I could hear him. “That’s been her plan all along, you know?”

“What?” I croaked.

“It’s why she chose those two kids as our last victims, even though it’s against our rules to pick someone connected to our real life.”

My eyes widened and Burt hummed.

“Oh, you didn’t know? Your baby bird has claws. She’s a killer, Milly. She wouldn’t hesitate in your shoes.”

“No,” I said, the knife faltering just so. “You’re lying.”

“It’s true. I thought when she picked those two kids it was to heal some sort of, I don’t know, childhood trauma or some other psychobabble bullshit. But when she wanted to bury the girl in such an obvious place, I knew she had a different plan. I knew someone would be in her crosshairs. I didn’t realize she hoped it would be me, not until she ran to you with a sob story.”

“What?” The word escaped before I could stop it.

“It’s true,” Burt said, eyes never leaving mine. “I even found the phony journals she planted in case there was an investigation.”

“No. You’re lying.” I shook my head. “Shut up.”

He was trying to get in my head. Frances wasn’t a killer. I was.

I was a killer who couldn’t remember killing. It was blurred from my mind, blacked out. There was right before. The heft of the shovel in my hands. The ache in my shoulders as I swung. There was after, when I came to, Frances shaking me co consciousness.

I should be able to do this again. I should protect my family.

I should.

“I knew she was bored, but I had no idea she wanted to kill me.” There was joy in his voice. Pride lacing his words.

This is part of the game, I repeated in my head. He’s lying. Seeing if he can turn me against her.

“The thing is,” he continued. “She couldn’t do it herself, because, well, they always suspect the spouse when murder’s involved, don’t they? Good thing she has a big, strong killer sister to avenge her.” His gaze narrowed. “I bet she knew exactly what to say, what wound to press to make you want to protect her.”

“Shut up,” I repeated, this time louder.

“Better do it. Be that big sister she wants you to be. Kill her evil husband like she planned. Tell me. How did she convince you? Did she cry?”

I closed my eyes, my hand trembling as I pressed the knife harder.

“She did, didn’t she? God, she’s good.” He paused, then whispered, “Now ask yourself this: Have you ever seen her cry before?”

“Stop lying.” My voice quavered.

“If I’m lying,” he breathed. “How did I know to show up here?”

My eyes popped open at the same moment Burt’s meaty fist shot out and knocked the knife from my hand. “Time’s up,” he said and grabbed my hair, yanking my face close to his mouth. “I knew you didn’t have it in you.”

My stomach sank. I was a coward. If he hurt anyone now, it would be my fault.

“You’re not like her.” Burt’s hot breath was moist in my ear. “She wouldn’t have hesitated. Not even a moment.” I could hear the smile in his voice.

I tried to twist away, but the tiny hairs on the nape of my neck tore. His grip tightened, sending stars dancing across my vision.

There was scuffling somewhere near. Burt looked up and said, “I love you, sweets. But if you come closer to that knife, I’ll break her neck while you watch. Then where will that leave you, hm?”