Page 64 of We Already Dug the Grave

Bunny pulled Mr. Fortenberry’s left sock off, then began working on his right. “I’ll park his car at the edge of the lot. There’s no security cameras outside the club—can you even imagine? Cameras would cut our business in half.” She snorted. “We’d lose the church crowd if there was any sort of video evidence and—”

“Bun, sweetie. The point?” Ruth said gently.

“Right,” Bunny said. “Anyway, I’ll park and sneak in the back entrance. The car will be noticed. Someone’s bound to report seeing it. Probably my girls will even say they saw him inside. Memories are weird like that. Then…” She paused, smiling, palms and fingers splayed in front of her as if she was about to share the best news of her life. “My cousin—technically he’s my third cousin—but he owes me a favor. A big one.”

“I’m scared to ask what kind of favor could help us with our current predicament.” Ruth stood and wiped her hands down the front of her Wranglers.

“Thing is, he’s got a garage—but really it’s a chop shop,” Bunny said “Once folks notice the car, I’ll call him and tell him to come grab it. He’ll take it to his shop. Chop it up, sell it off. And you ain’t gotta worry. He’s not the type of man who’s volunteering information to the cops.”

“The cops?” I whispered, my knees going weak.

“You let us worry about that, Milly dear,” Hattie-May said, grunting as she reached to pick up the shirt and socks, then took Shane’s belt from Ruth. She dropped them into the bottom of Aunt Ruth’s cart. “In fact, you need to go now. You girls need an alibi. An unimpeachable one. Ruthie, what do you think?”

“All right.” Ruth’s dark eyes narrowed as she thought. “Y’all run home—quickly—and wash up. Don’t dawdle. Put on clean shirts. Frances, wear something to cover your neck. I know you’re probably hurting, but the both of you have to get back to that bonfire. Talk with friends, and act as if you’ve been there the whole time. If those parties are like I remember, no one’s going to be sober enough to contradict you.”

“Wait,” I said. “You want us to go back?” It seemed impossible—going back to something so normal after life had taken such a sharp turn.

“No,” Aunt Ruth said. “I’m telling you that you have to.” She put a hand on my shoulder. “We’ll finish up here. You don’t need to know what happens next. Now go on. Both of you.”

I looked from my sister, then down at the corpse I’d made. His pale chest was waxy in the moonlight.

I froze.

The smallest movement—so minuscule, so shallow, it could’ve been a trick of the light, but I didn’t think so. Mr. Fortenberry’s chest rose as if with the slightest breath.

“He’s not dead.” I dropped to the ground next to my English teacher and reached for his arm, pressing my fingers to his clammy skin. Maybe he had a pulse. Maybe I wasn’t a murderer. Maybe we could take him to the hospital, and he’d live and get arrested for what he’d done to my sister. I didn’t care what anyone thought about us—if they said horrible things. I didn’t even care if he went free. At least I wouldn’t have blood on my hands.

We could get back to our normal life—back to our plan. Frances would go to the boarding school. I’d get the salutatorian scholarships and go to college. We’d pretend this never happened.

I hadn’t realized that I’d wanted this until it was a possibility.

I pressed Mr. Fortenberry’s wrist harder, desperate to feel a twitch or thump or anything.

“Milly, stop.” Hattie-May’s voice was stern with a thrum of panic at the edge. She pulled me backward, surprisingly strong. Aunt Ruth grabbed me around the middle.

“I heard something,” I cried, sounding desperate even to my own ears.

“No you didn’t, dearie,” Hattie-May insisted. “You have to go now.”

I jerked at Ruth, but she held tight. “Milly, stop fighting.”

“He’s not dead.”

Ruth released me, and I fell forward.

I looked around the circle, at the faces hollowed by shadows, the tight set of jaws.

“You didn’t hear anything,” Aunt Ruth said. “Not a damn thing. It’s these woods. Weird shit happens out here at night.” She looked over her shoulders into the dark forest. “Which is why you need to leave.”

“No,” I insisted.

“Milly, that’s enough.” Hattie-May stepped close and looked down at me. “He’s dead. He was dead the moment he laid a hand on Frances. You understand?” She struggled to her feet and stepped close to me, bending forward and clasping my chin in her arthritic fingers. “He’s dead, because if he’s not, we have more trouble than he’s worth. He dug his own grave the moment he brought your sister here.”

With those words the fight left me. I rose slowly and took Frances’s hand, and, for the last time, we left that haunted clearing.

Chapter 24

Now