Dusty has always been a hothead, far more impulsive than her twin, Nick, the calm, cool and collected one of the pair. But Nick is dead, found murdered in their local cemetery, and Dusty simply can’t rest until she finds out who—or what—has killed her brother.

Sure the local authorities aren’t being straight with her—or anyone else—about what’s been going on in their little upper Michigan town, Dusty delays going off to college for a semester, defying her father and stepmother and taking a job in the local bar to start doing some digging.

Her focus soon fixes on Shane, her brother’s best friend and the town bad boy. The tension and rivalry between Dusty and Shane has always been palpable and sparks fly as the two collide. Dusty finds herself sinking in deeper with Shane and the mystery of what happened to her brother—and a lengthening list of victims—grows even stranger.

When everything comes to a head, Dusty focuses on one thing: What happened the night her brother was killed in the cemetery? She’s sure Shane is keeping a secret and she’s determined to find out what it is, one way or another.

Buried Secrets

By
Emme Rollins

Table of Contents

PART THREE: REDEMPTION

Part One

Suspicion

✝
Chapter On
e
✝

Dusty hid in the coat closet at the funeral home. The last time she’d been in it was the day she’d turned fourteen. Her mother had just died after a long battle with breast cancer. It had metastasized to her brain, leaving her last days co
nfused and muddled, beyond their reach. The day of the funeral had been just like this—beautiful and bright, an affront. It made no sense, the sun still shining, the sky still blue.

So Dusty had crept into the closet, not wanting to share her grief with aunts and uncles and cousins, strangers she saw a few times a year at most. Her father was a zombie, the walking dead, dark circles under his eyes, just going through the motions. She couldn’t reach him. Her brother had been the one who came looking for her.

He found her curled up behind the coats, back against the wall, knees up in the new black dress and heels she wore, head down. She wasn't crying, hadn't cried when she watched her mother take her last breath, hadn’t cried any time since. Her grief felt like something had weighed anchor in her chest, making her slow to react.

She hadn't cried until Nick found her, squatting down to pull the coats aside like a curtain, suddenly spotlighting her pain. His face was a mirror of her own—her brother, her twin—so pale and stunned, eyes dark like hers, like their mother’s.

When the coats parted again, she had a moment of déjà-vu, sure it would be Nick coming for her, knowing her pain as well as he knew his own. But that was impossible because Nick was dead. It was his funeral they were going to today. It wasn't Nick, couldn't be Nick, would never be Nick again.

“Hey.” Shane ducked his head, cocking it and looking at her tucked in behind the curtain of coats. “Thought I might find you here.”

She stared at him, eyes burning, face so hot she felt feverish. For a moment, he wasn’t Shane, her brother’s best friend, he was Nick. For one moment they were fourteen again and she was grieving the loss of her mother, not her twin brother. She had gone to Nick that day like she could go to no one else, letting herself cry in his arms. And Shane had been standing there in the doorway watching the whole time.

She remembered him like a vision, the same face looking back at her, that strong, stubborn jaw, smooth as a baby’s then but dark with stubble today. His sandy blonde hair was cut short when they were young instead of the spiky mess it was now. It was the only other time she’d seen him wearing a suit and tie that she could remember. And here he was again, only this time he wasn’t standing in the doorway. This time he was crouched in front of her, holding out his hand like a peace offering, like he expected her to take it, to forgive and forget.

“You bastard,” she whispered, surprising them both when she went for him, hands hooked into claws, nails aimed at his face. Shane reacted, grabbing her wrists and pulling her toward him instead of pushing her away as she’d expected. Dusty cried out in frustration as he twisted and folded her up in moments, pretzel-like, rendering even her kicking feet in spiked black heels harmless, flailing uselessly at the wall of coats.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his lips touching her ear. She struggled in his grip, twisting and turning in her attempts to get at him, but he held her fast, wrists crossed over her chest, her body pulled tight against his own, tucked between his thighs. “Shhh. Hey, easy. Easy!”

“Fuck you!” she snapped, panting, sweating with the effort to get out of his grip, turning her wrists in his hands, but Shane wasn’t even breathing hard. He had her completely tied up, right where he wanted her, in a neat human straightjacket. “Let me go!”

“They’re taking him to the cemetery now.”

His words stopped her like nothing else could have.

“No,” she whispered, her body going suddenly cold. She literally began to shiver and she felt his arms tighten around her, as if he could comfort her with his body alone, the solid, warm press of him against her. “No, Shane. No!”

He lowered his head, voice muffled. “It’s time.”

“Please, no,” she begged him, twisting to try and see his face, as if he could change the course of things, as if he might be able to alter the very circumstances of Nick’s death. “Not the cemetery. He died there, Shane. He died there!”

She felt his slow exhale, the heat of his breath on her neck, his voice low and hoarse. “I know. I’m so sorry, princess.”

“Don’t call me that!” she cried, but it was too late. It was the teasing term of endearment Nick used for her and hearing it come from Shane was like a blow. The reality Nick would never speak those words again entered her heart like a blade. She gasped for breath as if she’d been stabbed and Shane let her go, not holding her wrists anymore, not keeping her.

She whipped her head around to look at him, ready to gouge out his eyes, to inflict every bit of revenge she could, not that any of it would make up for her brother’s death. It was his eyes that stopped her. They were as blue as ever, but there were dark circles underneath. So much pain in his eyes. That lonely, haunted look. It told her everything and nothing.

“This can’t be happening.” She’d whispered those words to Nick, those very words, the day her mother died. She remembered, looking into his eyes, what had finally broken her. Nick had held his arms out to her and she’d gone to him, like she always did, but it wasn’t Nick who finally broke her.

It was Shane, standing in the doorway watching. It was the bright sheen in his eyes as he passed the back of a trembling hand over them, a sudden hitch in his chest. Her brother, Nick, was a sweet, sensitive soul. His tears came easy, far easier than her own—he’d cried when their cat had been run over in the road, when a baby bird had fallen from its nest before it was ready to fly, breaking its vulnerable neck.

Shane Curtis was a rock, a stalwart, always standing fast. He didn’t ever let anyone know what he was thinking, let alone feeling. She suspected only Nick knew what was going on in Shane’s head, and maybe no one ever knew what was in his heart. So seeing tears in Shane’s eyes had rocked her world, even at the tender age of fourteen, and seeing them now tore her heart right out of her chest. She should have hated him—part of her did hate him—but in that moment he was the only person who could even come close to understanding the loss she was facing.

“Nicky!” she wailed, tears blurring her vision, beginning to fall as she called for her brother, wishing he could hear her. “He can’t be gone. He can’t… can’t…”

Shane folded her up again without a word, this time tucking her head under his chin, pulling her face to his chest as she sobbed, and she let him. She was completely undone, unable to do anything but let him rock her. They clung to each other on the floor of the funeral home closet, sharing a pain Dusty once believed she never could have borne. Losing their mother had brought Nick and Dusty even closer together—and, as twins, they were already incredibly close.

That made losing Nick somehow worse. It was like having the one last thing you had to live for taken from you. Dusty was stranded, alone and drifting, nothing to cling to anymore. Nick was gone. Not gone… dead. But she didn’t want to think about that. Couldn’t think about it. The words she’d spoken aloud to Shane—he died there—had been the first time she’d acknowledged it to anyone.

Not just dead. Murdered.

No. No, she couldn’t think about that.

Dusty shook her head, clawing at Shane’s suit as if she could crawl through him and escape her own thoughts. He didn’t try to soothe her or stop her or keep her. He just held her and let her fall apart, let her sob until his white shirt and navy blue tie were soaked and streaked with mascara and still the tears wouldn’t stop.

“I feel like I’m dying.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, clinging to him like she was drowning, and that’s just what it felt like. She could barely draw breath. “I wish I was dead.”

“No,” he croaked, his voice low and hoarse and pained. “Don’t say that.”

“You loved him.” It wasn’t a question. She knew it was true. They’d been best friends for years, Nick and Shane. They would have done anything for each other. She felt him nod, his cheek against hers, the soft scratch of his stubble startling her, but not nearly as much as the dampness on his skin. She pulled her head back to look at him, incredulous at the tears wetting his cheeks.

“Everyone loved Nick.” Dusty almost smiled. She felt the memory of her brother pushing through her grief, lifting her heart in her chest. But smiling felt like a betrayal. “You know it’s true. Even my dad wishes it was me instead of him.”

“No!” Shane grabbed her shoulders, eyes darkening. “Don’t say that! Don’t ever say that!”

“You know you wish it had been me.” She lifted her gaze to meet his, chin out, feeling her lower lip trembling with the truth of her whispered words. Dusty had always been the superfluous one in the pair, following in Nick’s shadow. She and Shane had vied for her brother’s attention for years—and she had usually been the loser. In spite of being fraternal twins, her gender seemed to be the separating factor. It drove a wedge between them the older they got.

Not that they weren’t close. They remained close, even closer after her mother died, united against their new stepmother when she came along. But once Shane entered the picture, everything had changed. Her brother idolized Shane the way Dusty idolized Nick. But that only made sense, in the end. Nick was everyone’s favorite. And now that he was gone, she wasn’t sure who she was without him.

“No. Dusty, stop it.” Shane cupped her face in his hands, using his thumbs to wipe at her tears.

She jerked her head away but he held fast. “It’s true.”

“It isn’t.” He lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Believe me, I know how you feel. I would give anything—anything—to have him back. But no one wishes it had been you. Especially me.”

“Please, I know better,” she scoffed, dismissing his attempt at reassurance, twisting away.

“You don’t know anything.” He grabbed her as she started to get up, pulling her back to the floor to face him. “For a smart girl, you can be really stupid sometimes.”

“Shane, you—”

He cut her off with a sudden, bruising kiss, surprising and paralyzing her. She couldn’t move, couldn’t respond at all, not at first. The last time Shane Curtis had kissed her, they’d been twelve years old, and she’d reacted much the same way. She couldn’t do anything at first, too shocked, but then…

She remembered it now. It was as if something inside her took flight. His lips were warm and insistent, hands moving down to the small of her back, pressing her body fully against his.

Dusty cried out when they stopped for breath, meeting his eyes. They searched hers, unsure and hesitant, and for a moment she thought he was going to pull away and mumble some apology. Given their history, she couldn’t stand that. She just couldn’t. This time it was Dusty who closed the gap. She heard his sharp intake of breath as their tongues met, her hand slipping behind his neck, turning her head to give him better access. Shane moaned into her mouth when she slipped her hand under the lapels of his suit coat, heading south toward his belt.

“Dusty, wait…” he gasped, pulling back to look at her, both of them on their knees like they were offering up a prayer.

“No.” She grabbed his belt, determined now.

“They’re waiting for us. We can’t…” He caught her hands in his, shaking his head.

“Please, Shane.” She whispered the words as her lips pressed to his.

He groaned again, giving into her for a moment. She felt his mouth softening under hers, but his hands encircled her wrists, not letting them wander. Struggling in his grip, this time for an entirely different reason, Dusty whispered the truth against his lips.

“I don’t want to go out there. Don’t make me.”

“I’m so sorry.” He took a shaky breath, pressing his forehead to hers. “I wish… Oh Dusty, it should have been me. It should have been me.”

This time it wasn’t him and it wasn’t her, it was both of them. A horrible, desperate feeling of loss hung in the air, thick and hungry, devouring everything in its wake. They did the only thing they could think of to make themselves feel alive. Dusty let out a low sound, more animal than human, like something wounded and twitching, aching in its own skin, before Shane’s mouth met hers. It was a kiss that could have raised the dead, full and open and alive. Dusty’s tears slipped down her cheeks and they captured them with their mouths, spreading the saltiness with their tongues in the dark, overheated space of the closet.

“Dustine Victoria Chandler, just what do you think you’re doing?”

Dusty didn’t quite register the hiss of her stepmother’s voice at first. She was far too lost in the feel of Shane’s lips lingering on hers, the way his hands clenched the fabric of her dress at the small of her back, like he could tear it off in an instant. She had forgotten everything, even her brother’s death—and hadn’t that been the point, after all?

It was Shane who reacted, pulling Dusty instantly to her feet, steadying her when she wobbled in her heels with an arm drawn around her shoulder, turning them both to face Julia in her modest, long-sleeved black funeral dress, her blonde hair perfectly coiffed. Dusty blinked at her stepmother’s expression, lip curled in a sneer, blue eyes blazing with anger. She’d seen the expression often enough, but Julia was usually careful to keep this face secret.

Dusty was surprised when Julia turned her anger on Shane.

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