Page 98 of We Already Dug the Grave

Sandy earth caked under my nails. Under Casey’s ring that was still shoved on my index finger.

Where was he?

Burt had taken Casey’s helmet. Could he have moved Casey’s body?

I tried to piece it together, while my anger flared at the notion of him laying a hand on my friend. It seemed barbaric. Evil.

I pressed my palms against the cool dirt. Calm down.

Of course Burt hadn’t moved Casey. That was nuts.

More nuts than anything else?

More nuts than killing an innocent girl to get my attention?

More nuts than sneaking out in the middle of the night and finding Casey based on a story Frances had told him?

More nuts than taking his helmet? More nuts than keeping it for years, waiting for the right time to use it against me, to hurt my sister?

But mostly… If it was so nuts, then where was Casey?

What the hell am I missing?

Somewhere nearby, there was a rustle of footsteps. My thoughts froze in my head.

“Hello?” I croaked. I jumped to my feet and picked my way carefully back to the path, forgetting the shovel and pausing to listen every few steps. My hand instinctively reached into my pocket, fingers curling around the ever-present sliver of bone.

My heart thundered in my ears, but there was no warning in my gut. No whisper to run or pay attention.

“Dearie? Are you out here?”

Hattie-May.

What was she doing here?

This was once her domain. Aunt Hattie had been the one to introduce me and Frances to the shallow creek. We’d walk its banks while she pointed out different rocks and taught us to look for fossils.

But the frail lady who’d greeted me last night with a warm hug, then sliced up coffee cake as we plotted murder wasn’t the same Hattie-May as the robust woman who’d raised me.

“Milly?”

She sounded close. In the forest. I jogged toward her voice, hopping over fallen branches, pushing vines out of my way, as I dodged briars.

It would be so easy for her shuffling steps to catch a root or hole. “Over here, Aunt Hattie. Stay put. I’ll come to you.”

I found her near the forest’s edge.

“There you are,” she said. Her old eyes traveled over me from behind her glasses, and she wrinkled her nose. “I was going to get the mixture from the greenhouse, but my key wasn’t on the hook. Figured you were already out here and that I’d join you, then I heard you in the woods.” She grimaced. “Lord have mercy! What were you doing, child? You’re filthy.”

“Uh…” I swiped a leaf from my hair and shrugged, mentally reaching for an explanation that made sense. The truth sure as hell didn’t. “I wanted to see the creek.”

“The creek?” Hattie-May’s sparse brows pushed together. Her tone was questioning. “Why’d you want to see the creek?”

I shrugged. “I guess, you know, I’ve always loved it. It made me happy.”

“You did love it, didn’t you?” She paused. “There were some good parts about growing up out here, wasn’t there, honey?” Her voice was huskier than usual. “It wasn’t all hard, was it?”

“What wasn’t all hard?”