Page 65 of We Already Dug the Grave

Moss Grove was almost six hours away, and the thought of returning so soon was daunting. We were both exhausted, me from lack of sleep and Frances from driving.

But it didn’t matter. We had to act before Burt returned from his conference.

We took my Malibu and left Frances’s BMW in the Publix parking lot. If he was as crazy as Frances said, he was likely tracking Frances’s car, not only her cell. We didn’t need him knowing our every move. My sister would ditch her phone soon enough, and by the time Burt arrived back home, we’d be long gone, and our setup would be complete.

We sped down the causeway and exited the interstate for the middle of nowhere, highways turning to backroads and then back to highways. We fell into conversation, telling childhood stories. Remember how butterflies always landed on you, but I had to chase them because they didn’t like me? Remember jumping rope for hours in the front yard? Can you still say the rhyme? Remember the mud pies? Being mermaids in the creek? Remember helping in the greenhouse? All those plants! All those old books! I didn’t know Hattie-May grew pot until college and realized—I knew that smell! It made me homesick…

Of course, we avoided certain memories, taking cues from each other when we veered too close. It seemed as if the tales would never run out, but eventually we found ourselves sitting in silence—albeit a happy one.

After ten minutes of listening to random radio stations, Frances sighed. “You know. I don’t know what I’m going to do after all this. I’ll finally be free again.”

I smiled as dense pine forest whipped past the window. “Probably anything you want.”

“I’m serious,” she said. “If your plan works, and Burt is arrested, then I’ll have to move. No way I could stay here. God, I can’t even imagine dealing with his family. I’ll need to disappear for a while. Maybe forever.”

“Shouldn’t be hard,” I said. “You’ll have money.” The subtext was clear—if I could do it with nothing, she could easily do it with a padded bank account.

“Yeah. That doesn’t hurt things.” Frances turned to the window as she spoke. “I’ll sell the house and land. I figure his brothers will buy it all. It’s family property, and they’ll want to keep it that way.” She drummed her fingers on the dash. “I have no idea what our accounts look like, or if I’ll even have access to it after everything comes out. I have some cash saved, and some of my jewelry is in a safe-deposit box—I can sell that. I’d love to get a job. You know I’ve never had a real career? All that education and for what?”

“Poor thing. Never had to work a day in your life.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. I had a GED and a year and half of community college under my belt, but something always got in the way of me finishing. That diploma would change my life. If I ever was able to graduate, I’d never pour a cup of coffee or deal with anyone like Pit-Bush again.

“Don’t say that. I’m not some poor little rich girl. I had no choices, Milly. Maybe I didn’t struggle like you, but that doesn’t mean what I went through wasn’t just as bad.”

“Just as bad?” I tried not to scoff. “The abuse and Burt—yeah. That part is horrible, and I’m sorry that happened. I’ll do anything to get you out of it.” I bit my lip, wishing I’d have kept my mouth shut, just this once.

“But?”

“But the rest of it? While you were at college, I was busting my ass trying to get by. You have no idea.” I shuddered, remembering the nights in the Rust Bucket, then the carousel of roommates and roach motels before finding Carla. “I’m sorry, Frances. I love you, and like I said, I’ll do everything in my power to help you, always. But, in some ways at least, I can’t feel sorry for you.”

Outside the window, a yellow sign warned of deer crossing, then another told us the bridges we drove over could ice in cold weather. Another, this one black-and-white and tilted dangerously on its side, ordered us to repent or face hellfire.

“I don’t want your pity,” she said. “That wasn’t my point.”

I felt her gaze on me as we coasted past a farmers’ co-op with darkened windows and slowed as we entered what constituted the village of Moss Grove. At the only red light, I shifted in my seat.

My sister, always beautiful, even with the scabbed-over cuts and tired eyes. With her unnaturally smooth forehead and professionally plumped lips, who somehow had skin but no pores. Meanwhile I hadn’t been to a doctor in years and was pretty sure I needed at least two fillings in my teeth. But sure. She had it worse than me.

“What?” I asked, when she didn’t speak.

She nodded out the windshield. “It’s green.”

I pressed the gas. Clouds rolled across the star-littered sky as we passed a twenty-four-hour gas station that was nicer than you’d expect in such a rural town.

“What are you going to do?” she eventually asked me.

“What do you mean?”

“I saw the bridal magazines. Your roommate’s getting married. That means you’ll have to move, I’m guessing?”

I shrugged. “Maybe.”

She wasn’t wrong. Carla’s mom would likely sell the apartment, and my last Zillow search told me rent had skyrocketed in the Key—made sense, I guess. A crappy beach town was still a beach town.

It was looking like I’d have to move farther inland, which meant I’d have to find a new job. Shouldn’t be a big deal, because waitressing jobs aren’t hard to get. Thing was, when it came to being a server, I liked Huddle Hut and its sticky floors and sometimes crazy (but mostly harmless) customers. I knew what to expect, and when your life is cloaked in chaos, that goes a long way.

“Earth to Milly,” Frances said. “You there? I don’t want to die in a car crash, if you don’t mind.”

“Sorry,” I said. “I was thinking.”