by J L Raven
Between the cacophony of the falls and his own focus on the ice tool, Adam didn’t notice my approach. I stopped a few feet away. Everything seemed suddenly crystal clear: the flakes of snow drifting from the iron sky, the spray of the falls adding bit by bit to the massive icicles coating the rock, the wind shaking the trees. The smell of fir boughs and wet rock was muted by the cold air. A raven sailed past, unconcerned with the drama playing out beneath it.
My glove creaked as I tightened by free hand. “Hello, Adam,” I said. “Going somewhere?”
Twenty-Seven
Adam’s head snapped up, and he jerked back, barely catching himself on one hand before he overbalanced and went over the side. For a moment, his mouth worked in shock…then the corners twitched into a feeble grin. “Lauren! You’re okay.”
Unbelievable. I took another step forward, and he rose hastily to his feet, the ice tool in one hand. He’d gotten the pick attached, and it gleamed in the dull sunlight.
“No thanks to you,” I said. “Did you really think I was going to let you get away?”
His eyes went to the scissors clutched in my hand. “Now, Lauren, don’t get hysterical.” He held up his own hands and stepped away from the edge of the bluff. “You just need to calm down.”
As though I were being irrational. Overly emotional. As though his calculus of life and death was no different from the numbers on my spreadsheets.
I’d never hated anyone as much as I hated him in that moment.
Well, almost. He’d managed to tie for first place with my adoptive mother.
“Don’t be so dramatic,” she’d said to my thirteen-year-old self, when I tearfully told her about her husband’s late-night visits to my room. “And stop making up stories, or we’ll give you back to the system. Then you’ll really have something to cry about.”
My adoptive father might have been molesting me, but she knew about it. And decided to gaslight me instead of saving me.
My breath roared in my lungs, my heart pounding adrenaline into every cell. “Calm down?” My voice rose to a shout. “You left me to die!”
“I didn’t mean it! You have to look at it rationally, okay?” Adam tried a placating smile again. “It’s not like I wanted you to get hurt.”
“But you were fine if I did.” I wanted to rip the ice tool from his hand and bury the pick in his face. “I guess you didn’t listen to Tiffany when you had the chance, did you? Whatever happened to teamwork?”
Worry darkened his blue eyes. I was scaring him. Good. “Someone had to go for help. I was the logical—”
“Shut up!” The words tore my throat getting out. A red haze closed around the edges of my vision. “You’re a fucking murderer, and you stand there with that smug look on your face, and—”
“Hey now, I haven’t killed anyone,” he protested. “Just take a deep breath and calm down, okay?”
I did as he said—but not because he told me to, but because I couldn’t get the rest of the words out if I didn’t. I wanted him to hear this. To understand. “You and your precious friends. Your team. A bunch of narcissistic psychopaths, and you their king.”
I took a step forward, and he backed up quickly. Toward the edge again. “Come on now, let’s just talk about this.”
“Oh, I am. But it’s your turn to listen.” My fingers spasmed around the scissors. “I thought maybe it had been a mistake. Not what you did to my family after Dorie died, but that maybe you hadn’t known about X-ULT. But you knew. You knew, every last one of you, and an innocent, wonderful, incredible girl died for your greed.”
His eyes widened. Maybe he was finally catching on. “Your family?”
“I told you the first day that I was adopted. Theodora Lamb—Dorie—and I had the same biological father.”
The worry in his eyes turned to real fear. His mouth worked, trying to think of something to say. But I wasn’t interested in hearing it. Like I’d told him, it was his turn to listen.
“Dorie had her whole life ahead of her. She was so smart, but athletic, too. She loved hiking, kayaking, anything that would get her outdoors.” I plucked at my coat. “Most of the gear I’ve worn this weekend belonged to her, in fact. But then she started taking X-ULT, and it killed her.” Grief tightened my throat, but I pushed through. “My bio-dad and stepmother—my real family—couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else going through what they did. So they sued Agonarch. You know the rest.”
Adam shook his head. “You can’t—we didn’t do anything wrong. It was just business.”
My mouth was dry, but a strange calm descended over me as I listed their sins. “Rick developed a faulty product, knew it could be dangerous, yet kept telling everyone how safe it was. After Dorie died, Melissa orchestrated a smear campaign, painting her as some kind of drug addict and making my family seem like they were trying to make a quick buck off her death. You used your connections with the senator to ensure there would be no real investigation into Agonarch, and Yasmine made sure our dad lost in civil court. He and his wife ended up bankrupted by the legal fees, did you know that?”
“No.” Adam shifted his grip on the ice tool nervously. “I mean, maybe? I don’t know. But listen—I have a lot of money. I’ll pay them back, okay? Better! I’ll buy them whatever they want!”
“What they want is their daughter back, you piece of shit!” I screamed. “But she’s gone forever, so the only thing they—the only thing we—could have was justice. Only you made sure that we wouldn’t get justice either.” I took another step toward him, raising the scissors in my hand. “That just leaves revenge.”
“Crazy bitch!” Adam shouted, and swung the ice tool at me.
I jumped back, the gleaming steel whistling past my face by mere inches. My heel caught on the uneven rock—and I fell heavily into the snow.
Adam came at me, ice tool raised high. In my rage, my pain, I’d forgotten he was armed, forgotten how much larger and stronger than me he was.
I still had a hold of the scissors, but the long handle on the ice tool meant he could brain me while staying out of my reach. Anger turned to fear, and I tried to scuttle back, to get away from him. The snow slipped under my hands and feet, sliding on the thick layer of solid ice beneath.
If he killed me too, my dad—my real dad, not the pedophile who’d adopted me—would lose another daughter to Agonarch. The thought of his grief, his tears, as he went through another funeral broke my heart.
And Heather—how would she feel, if she found out I’d come here under false pretenses? That all the work I’d put in, all the distance that had started to form between us, wasn’t because I wanted a promotion, but because I was driven to avenge Dorie’s death?
The thought of her beautiful face streaked with tears galvanized me. I rolled to the side, just as Adam brought the ice tool down. The blade struck the snow, biting into the layer of ice below.
“Stay still, you psycho!” he roared. His eyes burned like blue fire, adrenaline and fury lighting them from within. He’d killed Melissa by shoving her into the river, and he’d tied me up for our stalker to murder, but the look on his face now was different.
Now he wanted me to die. More: he wanted me to suffer.
He yanked the pick free from the ice, all his concentration on me. “Go to hell!” I yelled, to cover any chance of him hearing the person coming up behind him.
The butt of a rifle struck the ice tool as he raised it over his head, sending it flying over the edge of the bluff and into the river below. Adam started to turn, but the figure swung again, this time striking the side of his head. The blow didn’t knock him out, but he went to his knees, blood coating the side of his face.
“What the…?” he managed.
Our stalker stepped past him. The figure was clad entirely in winter camouflage, including a backpack I knew to be stuffed full of cold weather survival gear. Dark eyes regarded me worriedly through the hole in a balaclava. I took the offered hand and was pulled to my feet.
Adam stare
d at me as the final pieces dropped into place. “You…you’re working with the killer.”
“The killer?” I turned to face him. “What do you mean? Melissa killed Rick. I might have given Melissa a little push to get her off-balance, but you’re the one who made sure she went into the water. Yes, I knew about the downed tree on the zip line—we had a tête-à-tête through the bathroom window when I opened it and passed all the batteries and granola outside. But if Yasmine hadn’t shoved me out of the way and insisted on going first to save herself, she wouldn’t have died. We haven’t killed anyone.” A cold smile finally bloomed on my mouth. “I mean, yes, that was the original plan. But thanks to the storm, you did our work for us. You killed each other. So much for your precious team.”
“What about Tiffany?” he demanded. “You judge me, but your lunatic friend here murdered her, and she wasn’t involved in any of it!”
We exchanged a glance. Holding the rifle loosely in one arm, she pulled off the balaclava, revealing her face.
I almost laughed at Adam’s expression. “T-Tiffany?” he gasped.
“You really don’t listen, do you?” I asked. “I told you the first night I had two sisters.”
Twenty-Eight
“This is Janice Lamb,” I said. “Dorie was her full sister.”
Adam looked as though he might collapse from shock. “But…but the man on the road when we were coming into the inholding. The blind where someone was watching us…”
“Janice—Tiffany, to you—set up the blind the day before we arrived. As for the man on the road, I made him up. Just like ‘Tiffany’ pretended to see something the first night. Or how I said I found the kitchen door open, when I was the one who opened it.” My grin stretched wider. “‘Tiffany’ emptied the propane tanks and planted the red balloon. She took the phones and planted the newspaper articles one by one. The duplicate coat covered in fake blood was hidden in the freezer the whole time. I stole the batteries while you and Yasmine slept. Oh, and I poisoned Tom at the office party, so he’d be too sick to come, and I could take his place.” I shrugged. “We’ve been lying to you quite a lot these last few days, I’m afraid.”
“You’re crazy.” All the color had drained from Adam’s face, and his hands trembled. “Total psychos.”
Janice shook her head. “Your friend killed someone driving drunk, and you covered it up. You put out a dangerous supplement, then ruined the lives of anyone who tried to raise the alarm. Someone’s a psycho here, all right. But it’s not me. And it’s not Lauren.”
For a moment, Adam went very still. It should have been a warning. But somehow, it wasn’t.
He lunged in the direction of the remaining ice tool, too fast for either of us to stop him. Janice brought up her rifle, but hesitated to actually shoot him.
Adam grabbed the tool and charged at her, swinging it like a madman. A wild, primal scream erupted from his throat, and I knew in that instant he meant to stab her with the pick and keep stabbing until she was dead.
No. I’d lost too much to Adam and his team already.
I threw myself at him with a scream of my own ripping loose from my throat. My shoulder impacted with his gut. The snow slipped out from under his boots, and we both went flailing back, toward the edge of the bluff and the river roaring below.
Adam’s boot caught on the edge of the rock, and for a moment I thought it wouldn’t be enough. He’d catch his balance and bury the pick in my skull, then finish off Janice. Dad would lose all three of his daughters, and the same justice system that had turned a blind eye to Dorie’s death would brand us the criminals and let Adam off scot free yet again.
But the damned storm worked in my favor at last. The ice coating the rock refused to give the tread of Adam’s boot any traction. His fingers scrabbled at me as he slipped backward, but I wrenched free. For a moment, his arms windmilled crazily. Wide, terrified eyes locked on mine, just as Melissa’s had locked on his before he shoved her into the river.
I didn’t need to give him another shove. I only stood and watched as he toppled back, his scream unfurling like a ribbon behind him in the freezing air.
“I told you,” I said to the void. “I’d do anything for my sisters.”
Now
Janice sits at my bedside, holding my hand. Dawn isn’t far off, and the hospital is as quiet as hospitals get. There’s nothing but the beep of machinery, the occasional soft tread of a nurse past the closed door. The only light comes from the monitors and the nightlight shining out of the bathroom.
Heather didn’t want to leave, but she was exhausted. She’ll be back before I’m discharged. Hypothermia and mild dehydration are my diagnoses, bad enough to keep me overnight, but no longer. By this time tomorrow, I’ll be back in my own bed, Heather curled up beside me.
I can’t wait.
“What did the sheriff seem to think of your story?” Janice asks, keeping her voice to a low murmur.
“The only problem is Rick,” I say. “Thanks a lot, Melissa.”
No one was supposed to die in a suspicious manner. We planned it so carefully.
Agonarch’s proprietary financial software was a joke, security-wise. It had been nothing for me to slip in and make it look as though Adam had been the one to pay the owner of the inholding for the retreat. Since Reignite Outdoor Adventures didn’t exist—and neither did “Tiffany”—it would appear as though noted outdoors enthusiast Adam Bailey had planned the whole event himself.
Everyone knew what a hands-on guy he was, after all.
The group of people he was supposedly leading into the wilderness were inexperienced and unprepared. A recipe for disaster, especially with no way of contacting the outside world. When I told the rescue team, and later the sheriff, that Adam had confiscated our phones and then lost them, I’d gotten grunts and eye-rolls. Though no one had been unprofessional enough to say anything in front of me, we weren’t the first group to do something spectacularly stupid in the wilderness.
People get lost, or their gear gets damaged, and they panic. Panic leads to dumb mistakes. And Mother Nature doesn’t forgive a mistake.
If everyone had died from hypothermia, drowning, or other misadventure, no one would question it. But Rick’s death was obviously criminal in nature. Which means they’ll be looking at it more closely.
“Don’t worry.” Janice squeezes my hand, the one without the IV. “What did you tell them?”
“The truth. That Melissa was drunk and panicking.”
“Good. Then any closer look they take will only confirm your story.”
She’s right, of course. “Did you take care of everything?” I ask, though I know she did.
“Yes. I went right down the list.”
We’d gone back to the lodge together and removed every trace of “Tiffany’s” existence. The jacket, stained with fake blood. The things from her cabin, and from the cabin we’d staged to look lived in. Every scrap of incriminating paper, every rifle casing, even the shards of glass from the broken vodka bottle.
Then I went to my cabin, while she hiked out, crossing the river on an inflatable raft we’d hidden in the woods before everything began. The falling snow filled in her footprints, and I waited for rescue.
I take a deep breath. When I let it out again, I’m shocked to find tears stinging my eyes. Janice sees them and leans in, her head against mine. “Lauren?”
“It’s over, isn’t it?” I ask. After so long: Dorie’s death, the legal wrangling, the bankruptcy forced on our dad. All the months and months of planning Janice and I did, when it became obvious there would be no justice, only revenge. “It’s really over.”
Janice’s voice hitches as she says. “Yeah, it is. Dorie can finally rest in peace.”
The tears come thicker now, and we cling to one another and cry, until the morning light makes its way through the window.
Epilogue
8 Months Later
“You look so beautiful,” Dad says as he ducks into the white tent I’m usi
ng to get ready.
After my rescue from the snow, Heather agreed a beach wedding would be best. Outside, white sand stretches into the distance, while crystalline blue waves break gently a few yards away. The air smells of salt and coconut-scented sunscreen.
I turn to the mirror and touch my hair self-consciously. My veil is held back by a circlet studded with tiny shells and pearls, pinned tight to my braids to keep the sea wind from pulling it free. “Not as beautiful as Heather, I bet. Have you seen her?”
“I have.” He grins. Dad and I have a similar face, while Dorie and Janice take after their mother. “She’s a stunner, but no one will ever be as pretty as my little girls.” The grin slips. “I just want you to know how much it means to me that you’re lighting a candle for Dorie as part of the ceremony.”
Of course Dad doesn’t know anything about what Janice and I did. Most of the reports about the shocking series of deaths at the inholding focus on the team. Beautiful, young, rich, and tragically dead: perfect for selling newspapers and magazine articles. Even more so with the added spice of murder. The same media Melissa had once used against Dorie turned against her, painting her as a reckless alcoholic who had killed before.
Of course, being the only survivor, I’ve had plenty of requests for interviews. I refused them all, and even spent the first two months after my rescue in a hotel on the other side of the country, where reporters couldn’t easily find me. But soon enough, the news cycle moved on. No one’s bothered me in months.
The police accepted the obvious—that every death other than Rick’s had been a tragic accident, brought on by inexperience in extreme weather conditions. Which, to be fair, they were. Adam’s father is currently in a protracted legal battle with the inholding’s owner, who is quick to point out Adam himself electronically signed off on a waiver when booking the retreat. Word has it they’ll settle out of court.