Page 91 of Little Buried Secrets

I tore down the dirt road, leading to Sean and Meredith’s cabin, my headlights beaming into the darkness. Snow was pelting down, the wind whipping in every direction, making it almost impossible to see.

I saw a flicker of something move in front of me, and I put on my high beams. Sebastian was running toward me, gun flailing in his hand. I slammed on the brakes, almost hitting him as the car slid sideways and I skidded to a stop. I reached for my gun and flung my door open, jumping out of the vehicle.

As I walked toward him, I said, “Put the gun down, Sebastian!”

He stared at me, confused, and then he looked down at his trembling hands. A look of shock swept across his face, like he wasn’t even aware he was still holding the gun. He looked toward the sky and screamed and then hurled the gun as far as he could throw it.

“You don’t understand!” he said. “You don’t understand!”

“Then help me understand.”

“I had to do it!”

“Where were you going just now?”

“I don’t know. Away from here.”

“Your father, where is he?” I asked.

“Inside.”

“How many times did you shoot him?”

“Once.”

“Is he alive?”

“I don’t know.”

“And your mother? Where is she?”

“My mom was on the phone with the police before I ran out.”

“I just want to talk to you, okay?” I said. “You can trust me. It’s too cold and too miserable to be out here. Come with me. Let’s sit in my car.”

Seconds passed.

Sebastian turned away.

I expected him to run, but then he walked to the passenger side of my car and opened the door. I got in and faced him.

“Thank you for trusting me,” I said.

“I … I thought you’d want to check on my dad, see if you could save him.”

“If your mom called the police, they’ll be here soon enough. I want to talk to you before that happens.”

He was right to say what he had. Checking on Sean before doing anything else would have been the right thing to do. And maybe I should have felt guilty because I was more concerned about Sebastian’s welfare than I was about Sean in that moment. I was starting to understand why Sebastian had shot his father. If I was right, I didn’t care much whether Sean lived or died.

“Earlier, at Margot’s funeral, I believed you were staring at me when you were talking about avenging Margot’s death,” I said. “You weren’t looking at me, though. You were looking at your father. He murdered Margot, didn’t he?”

Sebastian hung his head and nodded.

“When did you figure it out?” I asked.

“The day after Margot went missing, I heard my parents arguing in their bedroom. My mom said something about catching my dad pinning Margot against the wall at our house and trying to kiss her. Guess it happened months ago, right before we broke up.”

“Was your dad aware your mother had seen it happen?”

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