Page 78 of Home Is Where the Bodies Are

“What about Mom?”

His gaze meets mine. “What about her?”

“Did she know what you did to Dad?”

“She helped me bury him.”

Something in me breaks. Maybe it’s my soul. Mom knew? How could she go along with something like that? How could she watch me lose my family while trying to find him? How could she sit back and watch Nicole destroy herself with drugs? Why would she ever let us believe that Dad was out there? Let us hope that one day he would return and walk right back into our lives?

“Why would she do that?” I ask.

“Because it’s what Dad would have wanted.”

“Dad wouldn’t have wanted any of this. Look what it’s done to our family.”

I narrow my eyes at him, realization dawning. He didn’t reappear after seven years to lay Mom to rest. He’s here to make sure the past stays buried. “How the hell did I get an email from Dad this week if he’s lying in that hole, Michael?”

“Oh, come on, Beth. That’s an easy one. You know how good I am with computers.”

“But why? Why bother going through the trouble?”

“You mean, send Nicole on a wild goose chase to keep her busy, get you two fighting so you ignore everything else, and then I buy the house and make sure it all stays buried... simple. Same reason I erased the tape. Same reason I tore pages out of Mom’s journals.”

“And the break-in?”

“That was Nicole’s drug dealer.” He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “You two are so easy to just nudge right off the deep end. I’d call it pathetic if it wasn’t so convenient. Like little wind-up dolls marching in circles. You should have just listened to me, Beth. You should have sold me the house, taken the money, and left this place, because now...” Michael’s gaze falls to the graves. “You never will.”

While he’s lost in thought and distracted, I grab my shoe and throw it at him. A mass of wet mud flings off the heel, splatting across his face.

“Ah, what the fuck?” he yells, scraping the sludge from his eyes.

I lunge for the gun clutched in his hand. His elbow connects with my face, crunching the bones in my nose, and sends me tumbling backward. I nearly fall into Garfield’s grave. Getting to my feet, I charge at Michael again, taking him by surprise as he’s still trying to get the mud out of his eyes. He gasps for air when I hit him in the side with my shoulder.

“Goddamn it, Beth,” he wheezes as his body collides with a tree.

I bring my knee up, thrusting it into his groin. He crumbles and sinks to the ground. I twist the gun as hard as I can, prying his fingers from it. But then I feel a sharp pain in my lower back. It knocks the wind out of me. He slams his fist into my kidney again. This time I release the gun and collapse to my knees, sucking for air and wheezing through the pain.

“Beth!?” I hear Nicole’s voice in the distance.

“Nicole!” I scream with what breath I have left. “I’m down...” Michael’s free hand covers my mouth, smearing mud into my nostrils, pushing it through my teeth, trying to choke me into silence.

“You’ll only get her hurt too,” he seethes.

“Beth!” she calls out again.

I consider prying his hand from my mouth and screaming for Nicole, but he’s right. He’ll just hurt both of us. Instead, I open my mouth and use my hand to push one of Michael’s fingers into it. Then, I bite down as hard as I can, until a new liquid besides mud and water begins sloshing around my mouth.

Michael screams and clocks me right in the face with the gun. A stream of warm liquid gushes from my nose and lip. My mouth involuntarily opens as I shriek in agony. He pulls his mangled finger free from my teeth. I spit out my blood and Michael’s, trying to plead, but no words come out.

“I don’t know why I even thought I could have a civil conversation with you, Beth.” He stands over me with the gun cocked, pointing it right at my head.

I put my hands in front of my face, shielding what I know I can’t stop, and look over at the unearthed soil that I’ll soon call home.

The dull thud of metal on bone twangs again, and I glance up to see Michael clutching his arm. Blood spills from a fresh wound, and Nicole stands behind him with a shovel in hand. She raises it again, but her arms shake and her movement is too slow this time.

Michael drives his elbow back hard and fast, connecting with her mouth. Her lip splits open and blood pours from it like a faucet. She stumbles, tripping over a fallen branch, her head smacking against the ground.

I’m on my feet, taking two steps and diving toward the shovel. Michael notices my movement and lunges to beat me to it. Nicole lifts her leg and trips him midstride, causing him to crash face-first into the mud. I grab the shovel, raise it over my head, and swing. Just before the blade hits his skull, he rolls out of the way. The shovel punctures the ground.

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