Page 115 of We Already Dug the Grave

Burt again brought his lips close to my ear. “Where were we? Oh. That’s right…the truth about your sister.” He breathed deep, and goose bumps broke across my forearms. “Do you know when she told me your little secret?”

“Yes,” I said, hoping my answer would catch him by surprise.

“What’s he saying? Milly? What’s he telling you?” Frances called.

Burt tightened his grip. “She told me when I was inside her. How does that make you feel? Knowing that when she described to me how you brought down the shovel on your teacher’s head and how watching the light drain from his eyes made her feel more alive than she’d ever felt, I was fucking her with her hands around my throat.”

This couldn’t be true. Frances had confessed to him in a moment of desperation. It came from loneliness and a need for connection. Not in some, what? Twisted dirty talk? The idea made me sick.

“You don’t have to believe me.” Burt shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to me either way. Just thought you might want to know who you’re ‘protecting.’”

Frances called out once more, her voice calm. “He’s a liar, Milly. Whatever he’s saying to you, it’s not true. This is what he does.”

Hattie-May groaned again, this time softer, and I could hear Ruth and Bunny exchanging concerned words over their charges.

I pulled away, but Burt yanked my hair. “You only go where I let you,” he snarled. “And you’ll listen until I say we’re done.” He grabbed my chin and twisted my face toward Frances. “Look at her. You don’t deserve her, you know that? Your sister told me how you were going to ruin everything by telling on yourself to that boy.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but he twisted his fist, pulling my hair. A whimper escaped my lips.

“Maybe I should let her tell you that story. She sure enjoyed telling me. How she was repaying you by getting rid of the boy who’d have turned you and your entire family in.”

“He’s a liar, Milly! Burt, please. Burt, stop,” Frances yelled.

“What?” The word grated out of me. I tried to remain calm, to think of a way out, but it was as if my body was turning loose and liquid. Like I might melt away.

Hearing him talk about that night…the worst night.

“Your precious boyfriend. Cade? Caleb?”

“Casey,” I whispered.

“Yeah. She killed Casey for you, and what did you do? You broke your promise and fucking left her. Didn’t even say goodbye.”

“No.” My knees buckled, and it was like the air had been sucked from my lungs. I sagged against this man I hated. “That’s not true.”

Burt laughed. He’d gotten his reaction. “She was proud of how she did it, a little poison on his lips while he slept.” He twisted us around to where I could see Aunt Hattie still and pale on the ground, yards away, Ruth trying to staunch a wound on the back of her head, her eyes panicking. Unable to leave her side as she called to Bunny, beckoning her over. “She was following in her great-aunt’s footsteps. The family business, she said. When she told me that, I knew she was special. That we’d have so much fun together.”

No. Frances would never hurt me this way.

Burt was still talking, but his words grew muffled in my head, and I thought of Casey. Of the helmet. Of the dirt Frances saw beneath Burt’s nails.

Of this man—this liar—in the forest, digging up Casey’s remains.

Desecrating him.

“What did you do with him?” I demanded. “Where the fuck did you take him? Where is he? Tell me what you did with Casey.” Emotions—guilt, shame, anger—surged. One hand was on Burt’s, trying to loosen his grip. The other slid into my pocket and wrapped around the bone. Smooth and small and sharp, but far from deadly.

“Tell me where he is. Where did you put him? He deserves…” Guilt wouldn’t let me finish the sentence, because curse or no curse, Casey had always deserved more than I’d given him.

Burt shook his head. “What are you talking about? What I did with that boy?” He grimaced.

“He’s lying,” Frances repeated once again, her voice losing its conviction.

“Okay. This isn’t fun anymore.” Burt relaxed his grip, and without thinking, I turned and pushed against him. He stepped back, his foot landing on Sarge’s tail.

The cat hissed and latched on to Burt’s calf.

“What the—” Burt yelped, his hand falling away from me.