Page 31 of We Already Dug the Grave

If Burt is hurting her…

My brain leapt, and I couldn’t take it back. I’d been so focused on our past, I hadn’t considered that maybe there was another reason she’d flash the signal, more like our mama than I’d even realized.

“Frances. Is Burt… Are you okay? You can leave…with me. Right now.”

“Leave with you?” Her mouth dropped open, aghast. “What the hell are you talking about? Why would I leave with you?”

“I…I mean—” I stammered. “If you need help.”

She shook her head as she leaned in, then spoke with authority. “Look, you shouldn’t have come here. I don’t know what this is about, but Milly… We don’t know each other. Not anymore. I’m completely happy in my life, but if I were in some kind of trouble—which I’m definitely not—it’s absurd you’d think you could help me. You cut me out of your life first, remember? You don’t get to decide to show up again.”

“I didn’t have a choice,” I said. “I had to leave. It was for your own good—”

“For my own good? Really? It’s not up to you to decide what’s good for me. Milly, how many times have I told you that? You’re a wreck. You’ve been a wreck.” She gestured to me. “This entire conversation is… It’s wild. You show up, literally out of nowhere, and ask me if I want to leave with you?”

A bump sounded from inside. Frances startled and took a step back, toward the door. “Just go. Okay?”

Before she could leave, I reached out and grabbed her shoulder. “I drove hours to see you.”

She looked at my hand, then at me, her gaze narrowed. “Do you…” She lowered her voice. “Do you need money or something?”

My cheeks flushed.

“No. I don’t need money. Christ, Frances.” Anger rose in my chest. “You know why I’m here? I saw you. On TV I saw your hand signal.”

“What are you talking about? What hand signal?”

My palms splayed desperately in front of me. “Don’t you dare pretend like you don’t remember. The one we—”

“Stop.” She cut me off. “Just stop, okay? Burt’s family is on television all the time. Do you really think I’d what? Flash a secret signal from childhood? Listen to yourself.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, the ruddy color rising in her cheeks clashing with the orange of her sweatshirt.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I know what I saw. And…and you know the girl they found? The college student? Do you know who her boyfriend is? He’s Shane’s stepson! Remember his kid with the bright eyes? He was always around at—”

Frances held up a hand for me to stop talking. “Hush, Milly. We aren’t talking about that here.”

That’s when the sleeve of her sweatshirt slid up her arm. It was only the slightest moment, but it was enough. Finger-sized bruises circled her wrists. I stared.

“Sister.” It was all I could say as I grabbed for her hand, determined to push up her sleeve. She stepped away quickly, but it was clear she understood what I saw.

Her brow furrowed and something flickered over her expression. Was it fear? Frances shook her head.

“Don’t touch me.” She gestured for me to keep back, careful to keep her arm concealed. “I don’t know what story you’re inventing in your head right now, but you need to leave.”

My panic rose, the words desperate to get out as she stepped closer to the door, threatening to shut me out for good. “I know you’re not okay! I know you’re afraid. I saw the signal, and I read your leaves, Frances! Just like you wanted me to!”

She stilled.

“Like I wanted you to?” Her voice was seething. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare.”

I flinched as she clenched her fists, betrayal written across her face.

“Stay out of my life, Milly. You hear me? I don’t want you at my home or in my fate.” She stepped closer, her nostrils flared. “You have no right.”

I glanced again at her wrist, still covered. “Frances…”

We stared at each other for an eternity. I worried she’d stomp into her house and that would be the final end of us. “Don’t you think it’s strange that the girl who was killed was buried right by you? And that she was dating Shane Fortenberry’s son?”

“A girl is dead, and you’re making it about us?” Frances turned away. “What’s wrong with you?”