Page 88 of We Already Dug the Grave

“My god, girl. There is no time to wait and see. There is only time to act,” Ruth said.

“Milly, dear.” Hattie-May spoke softly. “Even I can see it. He must die, and we must help it along. And soon.”

I’d hoped to see an indication that my plan had begun. Something to bolster my belief that a reporter would find the evidence we planted. That we could save my sister and get rid of Burt without spilling blood. That I could move Casey, and we could never talk about bodies or death or murder again. That I’d paid my dues as a Robbins woman.

But that wasn’t to be.

“What’s next?” Frances whispered.

I looked around the small kitchen at the open faces of the women who’d raised me. “Do you think he’ll come straight here when he gets home?”

Frances shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. How could he? I’m sure he tracked my phone and it showed me going back to Moss Grove, but if he’s tracking my car, it’s still in Persimmon Key. Maybe he’ll go there first. But…”

“But what, dearie?” Hattie-May asked.

“But when I’m not there… It makes sense that he’d come here eventually.”

“Okay.” I considered what this meant. “Maybe…maybe we can play into that and buy us a little time to figure things out.” My biggest concern was the urgency in the leaves. They didn’t read exactly like a clock, but we didn’t have long. Maybe a few days. “Do you still have access to your Instagram? You said he took control of it, but can you sign in on my phone?”

“Yeah,” she said. “He never changed the password. Never had to. It was a control thing, to see if I would break his rules. Everything was a test.”

“That’s…” That’s fucked up. “That’s good. What if you use my phone to sign into your account and post a picture of the beach? Say something about being with your sister. He’d have to check it out, right?”

“I don’t know.” Frances shook her head. “It feels obvious. He knows I’m not that stupid.”

I leaned back in my chair. “We aren’t trying to hide you forever, just trying to buy a little more time. Worst-case scenario, he doesn’t fall for it.”

“He won’t,” Frances said.

“Look. I’m open to better ideas,” I said, handing my sister my phone. “But in the meantime, post the photo.”

“Use mine,” Bunny said. She pulled her phone from her purse, beneath the table. The chunky case was bedazzled in pink and white rhinestones. “It’s got a VPN. Those social media apps track your location, did you know that? Best we don’t leave a trail of where you girls are, considering…” She unlocked it and handed it to my sister.

“Why in the world do you need a VPN, Bun?” Frances asked.

Bunny smirked. “My side hustle. I haven’t danced in twenty years, but I do a little work online from time to time.”

“Oh?” Frances said. “What kind of work?”

“The kind that only my fans know about. Last thing I need is some parasocial crazy figuring out where I live.”

“You have an online job, Bunny?” Hattie-May asked. “I didn’t know that. You have one of those blogs or something?”

I covered my mouth with my hand and wondered if I was about to witness my great-aunt’s introduction to OnlyFans.

“Never mind all that right now,” Ruth said, flustered.

Frances caught my eye, and despite everything, we were twelve and nine years old again, choking back laughter to keep from getting in trouble.

My gaze dropped once more to my sister’s teacup, and I was immediately sobered.

It was a flash. Just a flash. Just for me.

But there was no mistaking it.

My eyebrows drew together. There she was. Tucked tightly into the background of everything befalling us. A feeling of longing. Of desperation. Of love.

“Why are the leaves showing me Mama?”