Page 75 of Home Is Where the Bodies Are

“Because I found something.”

“What? What did you find?”

His blue eyes pull me in like the ocean’s tide. I can’t resist him, even if I’m not sure I can trust him. “Emma,” I say.

His mouth falls open, and his eyes go so wide that I think they might split at the corners.

Before he can speak or react or call me a liar, I say, “And my dad.”

“What? Your dad left town years ago.”

“No, he didn’t, Lucas.” My bottom lip quivers. “He’s been here this whole time.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“They’re dead. They’re buried in holes in the fucking ground behind me! What don’t you get?”

“How?” He shakes his head in disbelief as tears spill from his eyes. “And who put them there?”

“I told you my parents had something to do with Emma’s disappearance. They must have been the ones that buried her in there.” I point to the wall of tangled weeds that have concealed my parents’ dark secret all these years. “But I don’t know who buried my dad or the person in the grave next to his.”

Tears fall in a never-ending stream. I’m shaking, and I can barely see. My heart beats so fast, it feels like it’s not beating at all. It’s just a continuous hum.

The color drains from Lucas’s face as he registers what I’m saying. “There’re three bodies?”

“It’s just bones, but yeah, there’re three of them.”

“Beth... did your parents kill my sister?” His voice cracks. The sadness is gone from his face, giving way to only anger. The red streaks from his tear tracks have melted, filling every bloodshot branch and tendril as they crack and fissure across the whites of his eyes.

“I don’t know, Lucas.”

He balls up his fists and a thick vein throbs in his neck. I take another small step back, worried at how angry he is and scared that he might erupt at any moment, a dormant volcano ready to let loose after decades of inactivity. Lucas looks at me with narrowed, accusatory eyes. “Do youthinkthey killed my sister?”

“I don’t know.” I tell him I’m sorry because I don’t know what else to say.

Questions flood my brain, trying to make sense of it all. Why would they kill Emma? No, they couldn’t have. Not Mom or Dad. But if they didn’t kill her, why would they get rid of her body rather than call the police? Why would they risk going to prison? Why cause so much pain and mistrust and sorrow, especially when they had young chil... Oh my God! I let out a gasp as realization sets in and the pieces start falling into place.

Lucas looks at me with wild, tearful eyes. “What is it?”

“Don’t trust...” I say.

He takes another step forward. “What? Don’t trust what?”

“Not what... who.” I hang my head, shaking it back and forth in disbelief.

“Who shouldn’t you trust, Beth?” he asks.

The sound of metal hitting bone twangs with a dull thud, immediately muffled out of existence by the rain and wind. My head snaps up just as Lucas falls to the ground, blood gushing from where the shovel connected with his skull. I want to run to him but I can’t. I want to run away but I can’t do that either. Neither fight nor flight has kicked in. I’m frozen in fear and disbelief, completely immobilized.

“You should have just left the past in the past, Beth,” Michael says, gripping the handle of the bloody shovel.

I stumble backward several steps, putting more distance between him and me. Lucas lies still in the tall grass. I focus for a moment on his back and watch his lungs slightly expand and contract. He’s breathing. He’s still alive.

“What have you done, Michael?”

He tosses the shovel at my feet and pulls a gun from his pocket, pointing it directly at me, “Pick it up and let’s go. Back into the thick of it.” Michael flicks the gun, gesturing for me to move.

“Please, don’t do anything...”

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