Page 62 of We Already Dug the Grave

“I don’t understand.” Hattie-May shook her head. “How could this happen?”

I felt numb.

“Milly saved me,” Frances said plainly. “He deserved it.”

I focused on the road but caught glances of Hattie-May from the corner of my eye. She nodded so slightly I almost missed it.

“I see.” The simple phrase was laced with poison.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I should’ve told. I should’ve—”

“Hush now, honey,” Aunt Hattie said, and I snapped my mouth closed. “There is only one person at fault here.” She was quiet a moment, before adding, “He brought Frances to the woods alone? I hope to God he’s still alive.”

I pressed my lips together, hating the tears that stung my eyes. “I know. I—”

“I hope he’s alive so I can kill him myself.” The air whooshed from my lungs. My great-aunt reached across my sister and squeezed my knee. “Dearie, you did the right thing.” She paused and added, “It was the only thing you could’ve done in the moment.”

I stopped the truck next to Shane’s car and we got out. Ruth parked next to me and pulled two flashlights from behind her seat. She handed one to Frances.

“Okay.” Ruth clicked her’s on and swung the beam of light around. “Where’s the son of a bitch?”

I nodded toward the tree line. Ruth mumbled something under her breath and handed her flashlight to Aunt Hattie. Walking back to her truck, she opened the tailgate and pulled out a collapsible cart with big rubber wheels.

“What?” Ruth asked when she saw the look on my face. “It’s for hauling deer out of the woods. D’you think Hattie-May is going to grab his wrists and I’m going to take his ankles?”

Frances and I glanced at each other but said nothing.

“Now let’s get going. Y’all know being in the forest long after dark gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

“Follow me,” Frances said, leading the way toward the trees.

The flashlight bobbed in Hattie-May’s hands and illuminated the back of Shane’s car.

“Hey, one second.” Bunny stopped. “Shine that light back over here, will you?”

Aunt Hattie obliged.

“I know this car.” Bunny tapped the glass with her lime green acrylic. “Dark hair and green eyes?”

I nodded.

“Yep,” Bunny continued. “This creep is always at the Lickety Split.”

“No,” Frances said. “No way. Shane didn’t like places like that. He didn’t even like me wearing shorts to school.”

“Sweetie, I’d never lie to you. You know that.” Bunny licked her plump lips. “This car is in the parking lot at the club all the time.”

“You sure?” Ruth grimaced.

Bunny shrugged. “We get all types at the Split, and we withhold judgment as long as the patrons are willing to pay to play and mind their manners. But when a car with an honor roll bumper sticker and a stick family in the back window spends that much time in our parking lot, it doesn’t go unnoticed.” I shot Bunny a what the hell? look. She added, “I’m sorry, Frances, honey. It’s true.”

“It’s fine.” My sister’s face was a blank wall as she again marched toward the path, leading the way into the trees, stomping sticks and grass and brambles underfoot. “He tried to kill me. Why do I care if he wanted to look at naked girls?”

We filed behind Frances, walking quietly to the clearing as Hattie-May shined the light ahead. Once there, we circled Mr. Fortenberry’s body.

Hattie-May aimed her flashlight at his face. Red and black fire ants marched in and out of Mr. Fortenberry’s smashed nostrils and between his bloated lips. In the short hour we’d been gone, something had bitten a chunk from his earlobe. Or maybe it had been sliced off by the edge of the shovel.

I stared down at the mess of a man until I couldn’t take it anymore.