Page 55 of We Already Dug the Grave

“I think he killed them,” Frances said. “I…I know he did.”

“But how? Why?”

“That’s what I keep asking myself.” She shook her head, brow furrowed. “When I think back to everything I found in his things each time he came home from being away—a clip with hair in it, a woman’s tank top—I…I think… No, I’m sure he’s killed before. Probably does it for the same reason he hits me: He likes control. He likes hurting people.”

“That’s terrible.” Terrible wasn’t the right word, not by a long shot. I raked a hand down my face. I’d always figured Burt was probably a rich prick, but what my sister was describing was sadistic. It was evil. “Why them? Why did he kill someone with a close connection to our past?” I studied Blake’s driver’s license. Only Andrea’s body had been found. “Do you think he killed Blake too?”

“I think so. The news says the police are blaming Blake for the murder. I don’t think they’ll ever find his body. He’s the perfect scapegoat. As far as why them… I think it’s to torture me,” she said. “And you. He knows how much I regret telling him our secret, and he takes every opportunity to remind me the power he holds. God. Who knows how long he planned this or how he tracked those poor kids down? Burt loves a game. He loves being the smartest guy in the room. Those calls… I’m sure he wanted to make sure you didn’t miss the connection. Wanted you to be as freaked out as he knew I’d be.” Frances shook her head. “I can’t stop thinking how their death is my fault. If I’d never told him about what happened…”

“Then he’d have killed someone else. And if he’s doing it to torture you, then who knows who he’d have gone after?” I looked over the other license, at Andrea’s smiling, freckled face. She was so young. They both were. “Frances. If he knows what I did, if he wants to hurt you by hurting me, why hasn’t he told?”

“I’ve thought about that a lot,” she said. “Maybe because there’s no body? No way for him to back up his claims? Aunt Hattie and Ruth knew what they were doing, not telling us what they did with Shane.” She paused. “Or…”

“Or what?”

“Or maybe he’s biding his time. Seeing how far you’ll bend before he breaks you, because I think that’s what he wants. To break both of us.”

I shook my head, words leaving me. It had been Burt, my sister’s husband. Burt all along. Weaving this web, tangling me in it.

Except there was one thing that still didn’t make sense.

Frances said it had to be Burt who made the harassing calls.

But that was the problem. The phone calls hadn’t been only about Shane. And no one—not even Frances—knew about Casey.

Frances’s purse buzzed.

“You still have your cell.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yeah. He couldn’t take it away. How would that look when ladies at the club or Mama Anderson wanted to get in touch?” She rolled her eyes. “Appearances are everything.”

“But don’t you think he’s using your phone to track you?” Likely another reason he hadn’t taken it. One my sister, who was always better than me at puzzles, wouldn’t miss.

“I can’t hide, Milly. Burt Anderson would find me even if I tried. Even if I ditched this damn phone. He has a standing tee time with the chief of police, not to mention his daddy practically funds the entire force.”

“Shit,” I said. “You didn’t have to bring it here and lead him straight to my doorstep.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be out of here soon. I’m not staying. I won’t give him a reason to visit.”

“If you’re not staying and you’re not hiding, then why did you come?”

“I…” Frances paused, lips rolled inward, her fingers clenching and unclenching in her lap. “I need you to read me.” She held up her hand as if expecting me to protest. I wasn’t going to. “I know what I said about you looking at my future without my consent, Milly. I know I sounded like a bitch. And I stand by what I said. I never intentionally made our signal. But maybe, I don’t know. Maybe I did unintentionally. If you’re saying I gave the signal, perhaps on some level I was calling out to you. Crying out for help. Even if I didn’t realize it.” Her eyes widened. “I know that sounds absolutely insane.”

“No,” I whispered. “No, it’s no crazier than anything else.”

Her shoulders relaxed, sagging forward. “I think peering into my fate is the only way I can get ahead of him.”

I nod. “Of course.”

Then I remembered what was revealed in my own tea.

Death.

Her death? A death? An echo. Something we’ve tread over before. I thought of everything Frances had revealed: her husband not only capable of murder but longing to cause it. A chill threaded my bones.

“I’ve squirreled away a little cash. Once you read for me and I know what to expect, I can make a plan. It’s not much, but it’s the only chance I have.”

“Sister, I’m glad you’re here, and of course I’ll read you. I’ll do anything to help. Burt doesn’t get away with hurting you. But if the only reason you came was for a reading, why not go to Puddle Creek? It’s closer to you. Ruth could’ve read you…”