The Bakersville Dozen

by Kristina McBride

  “I waited for weeks, hoping you’d change your mind.”

  “I thought I was keeping you safe.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t get your logic.”

  “I didn’t trust myself,” Wes said. “I was heading to college, B. What if I had a stupid, weak moment with a girl and I broke your heart? I would never have forgiven myself.”

  “It happened anyway.”

  “I knew how I felt. Those first few weeks, I missed you so much I could hardly stand it. I wanted to wait it out. To be sure I could give you what you deserved before I made any promises. But by then it was already too late.”

  He looked so sad, his hair falling around the sides of his face, just like it had when he was younger. I almost reached out and touched him, my fingertips burning to feel the silky curve of his lips, to follow the slope of his neck.

  And then I remembered where I was. What I was supposed to be doing. This wasn’t about Wes. Or me. This was about Hannah. Her life depended on me knowing exactly what to do and exactly when to do it. If I was going to get her out of this alive, I had to let go of everything with Wes and Jude and focus.

  “This you and me thing is a mess,” I said. “A mess we’re going to have to figure out later.”

  “So you’ll listen?” he asked. “If you’ll hear me out, I swear I’ll be honest. Completely.”

  “Let’s get Hannah home safe,” I said. “Then I promise to hear you out. We both deserve at least that much.”

  Wes sighed. “That’s all I can ask for.”

  The headlights swept across a green sign with five words: LAUREL FALLS LODGE—NEXT RIGHT.

  “This is it.” My voice shook as I glanced down at the map in my lap.

  “Didn’t the police search the cabins out here?” Wes turned off the road and onto a gravel path that led to the main lodge and string of cabins, buildings that had been abandoned years ago. We’d been here a handful of times when we were younger—Tripp and Wes and me. Our fathers had taken us fishing in the stream that fed the waterfall. The three of us had skipped past the cabins on the way to the trails, fishing poles propped against our shoulders, while our fathers trailed behind carrying the bait that I absolutely refused to touch.

  “Yeah, the police searched up here when the first girls went missing.” I said, smiling at the memory of Wes slipping a worm on my hook, promising he would do it every time I asked. “They searched everywhere they could think of.”

  “And there was nothing here?”

  “Just a bunch of empty cabins.”

  “This place might be a little overgrown”—Wes glanced at the main lodge, a dark building made of thick log walls—“but it hasn’t changed at all.”

  I slid my phone from my purse.

  “You texting Tripp?” Wes asked.

  “I want to let him know we’re here, but I don’t have a signal. What about you?”

  Wes stopped in front of the main lodge, the truck’s headlights illuminating weeds that knotted the pathway to the front door, and pulled his phone from the console.

  “Nothing,” he said with a shake of his head. “You think we should’ve called the police?”

  “Maybe.” I sucked in a deep breath. “Probably. But convincing them that Tiny could be part of this whole thing wouldn’t have been easy and it would have taken too much time. Not to mention the threat—I can’t get it out of my head. It said no cops or she’s dead.”

  “Actually,” Wes said, “it said no cops or we’re all dead.”

  “I’m just thinking about Hannah right now. Getting her out of here.” I looked at Wes. “We need a plan.”

  “Simple.” Wes shrugged, like it couldn’t be more obvious. “We stick together. No matter what.”

  “Obviously,” I said. “I wish Tripp was here.”

  “He said he’d find us.”

  “We can’t afford to wait. I have no idea what he’s doing, but we need to move.”

  “Okay,” Wes said. “So which way do we go?”

  I looked out the window, my eyes swimming in the darkness surrounding the cabins. I didn’t want to think about how much ground we’d need to cover. There were miles of hiking trails, a stream, and the cavern all the way out by Laurel Falls.

  “I guess we go up the path. The clue didn’t mention a specific cabin.”

  “You think we’re supposed to go all the way to the falls?” Wes asked, turning the ignition off.

  “Don’t know,” I said, reaching for the glove compartment and slipping my fingers underneath the latch on the door. “But we’re gonna need light if we’re going out on the trails. Do you have a flashlight in here?”

  “Don’t!” Wes’s voice rang through the cab of the truck.

  I looked at him for a second, my fingers pulling the latch on instinct alone, my eyes narrowing with confusion.

  And then I heard the thud of something heavy hitting the floorboard between my feet.

  “What is that?” I asked, reaching for the rearview mirror, pressing the button on the underside, and hearing a soft click as a white light flooded the space, illuminating all of Wes’s secrets.

  A handgun rested at my feet, its glossy chrome sparking in the bright light.

  “Wes, where did you get that?”

  “Tripp,” Wes said. “He gave it to me earlier today. Said he had to do something before he could help tonight, so he wanted me to have it just in case.”

  “You and Tripp have been hunting like three times in your lives. Are you sure you know how to use this thing?”

  “We’ve had some practice target shooting,” Wes said. “Nothing fancy—just out at the Jones’s farm—but enough that I know how to use one of these things. Tripp stopped by the farm earlier today and said he needed a favor. Brennan Jones handed it over, no questions asked. This whole thing has everyone in town freaked.”

  “Is it loaded?” I asked, leaning down, my fingers brushing against the metal barrel, wrapping around the grip of the handle.

  He answered, but I didn’t hear him.

  It was like time stopped as my eyes locked on the other items that had fluttered out of the glove compartment, spilling around the gun like a puddle of milky blood.

  My brain couldn’t quite process what was in front of me—three red envelopes, my name printed neatly on the face of each one in all caps, and at least seven pieces of cream-colored cardstock, all of them blank.

  Wes looked down at the space between my feet. “Bailey, I—”

  “Shut up,” I said, my voice shaking as I pressed myself against the door.

  “But, Bailey, I have no idea how—”

  “SHUT UP!” I shouted. “SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!”

  He pressed his lips together so tightly they turned white.

  “You always have an excuse. You can talk your way out of anything. But not this.” I pointed the barrel of the gun toward the floorboard, my heart lurching at the sight of the envelopes, my name, the blank cardstock, all identical to the materials used for the clues that had been left with the dead bodies of my friends.

  “It’s not me,” Wes whispered. “I swear it’s not—”

  I pointed the gun at him, the barrel shaking in the air between us.

  “Stop.” I reached for the door handle and jerked it toward me, shoving the door open. “Not one more lie, Wes.”

  He shook his head, holding his hands up in the air. Surrendering. As if Wes would ever surrender to anything.

  “I’m not lying.” His voice was scratchy. Raw. And his eyes were wild.

  I swiveled, hopping out of the truck. Wes reached for the gun, his hand gripping the barrel and twisting it as he ducked toward me. A shot exploded into the night, the sound blasting through my ears as I turned, racing into the darkness, hoping that Wes wouldn’t see which way I’d headed. That I would have enough time to get to Hannah, to save her, and maybe even JJ. That all of us would be able to run away from the abandoned cabins before he had the chance to finish whatever sick game he had started.
r />   CHAPTER 30

  10:03 PM

  I was running away from Wes as hard as I was running toward Hannah. But after a few minutes, I didn’t know where either of them were. I wasn’t even sure where I was anymore.

  And then I heard music.

  Hard, thrashing music seeping from somewhere in the darkness surrounding me.

  There was another sound, too. A low rumbling that ran just beneath the frenetic pace of all those instruments.

  I let it pull me, the vibrations splintering the peace of the cool night air. Clouds blocked the rays of the moon, making it hard to see. My ears were still ringing from the gunshot. But finding Hannah—saving her—was my only concern.

  I veered toward the cabins on my right, feeling safer away from the open pathway, and raced past one sagging front porch, then two, and three. Thick patches of crabgrass choked my steps. Crossing into the lawn of the fourth cabin, I heard the wisk-wisk-wisk of someone close by, chasing me, and pictured Wes there, the denim of his jeans rubbing together as he swerved in and out of the shadows. I moved faster, my feet ripping through the weeds.

  I knew that Wes probably wasn’t working alone; even if I escaped him, I’d still have to face someone else. There was no way to prepare, so I had to hope. Hannah might have noticed something that would help us escape safely. But not just us. JJ “Juicy Fruit” Hamilton, too.

  I followed the sound of the music all the way to the last cabin on the street, racing around the side of the building and down a small hill that dropped into a wooded backyard. I smelled gasoline near the back porch, then noticed a neon yellow contraption on the ground. It was waist high, metal, with wires that snaked through the weeds and toward the house.

  Generator, I thought, picturing a similar machine that was tucked in a back corner of our basement. The only way they’d have power up here.

  I glanced at a small window in the rear wall of the cabin. Light streamed out through the grimy glass. My heart lurched as I stepped forward, hands shaking as I reached out to grip the sill. The tips of my fingers grazed something lying on the chipped surface of the paint—an old screwdriver that tapped the pane before falling to the bed of leaves below. I cringed, worried that someone might have heard, then realized there was no way. Not over the pumping grind of the music.

  I told myself that Hannah would be okay, that JJ was fine, that we would all get away. But I knew the chances of the three of us making it out safely were next to nothing.

  As I focused on the scene inside the cabin, my body recoiled.

  I realized I had fully expected to discover Hannah dead.

  JJ, too.

  Just like the others.

  But that’s not what I saw.

  Hannah was sitting in a chair—bruised, dirty, and wildly unkempt—but looking very much alive. JJ was right by her side, shoulders slumped forward, her teeth biting at her lower lip. Her eyes were sunken and framed by dark circles, but they were staring back at me, radiating life.

  As soon as she realized I was there, her mouth pulled tight, and she shook her head, tipping it toward a corner of the cabin I couldn’t see. The movement was so small, I barely caught it. But I understood the meaning immediately—she was warning me that someone else was there, too.

  I wanted to barge in, to pull them out of that awful place. But I had no weapon. Nothing at all to defend myself or the two girls inside, whose lives depended on me. Wes was supposed to be by my side, helping me make these decisions. He was supposed to be part of my team.

  I’d have to figure it out on my own now.

  I had surprise on my side. Though I’d been baited to Laurel Falls, JJ Hamilton was the only person who knew exactly where I was. With no cell service in the area, Wes hadn’t had the opportunity to warn whoever his partner might be. And he hadn’t caught up to me yet, so the other guy must be inside, alone. I had a chance. If I acted fast. Bending down, I grabbed the screwdriver, pressing it between my forearm and body—hidden, but accessible.

  Without another thought, I rushed the door, turning the handle, surprised to find the door unlocked as I made my way into the little room. The music hit me full force as I took in the details—the dim lighting, the white table pushed against a wall, two stained couches framing a fireplace, and a circle of chairs in front of the stone hearth.

  Hannah opened her eyes. Her lips were scrunched tight and her chin quivered.

  That’s when the first blast of fear exploded through my chest.

  Hannah had never been a chin-quivering kind of girl.

  If she was this afraid, I knew I should be, too.

  Then the music stopped, the last notes echoing through the room.

  I looked for a place to hide, but there was none.

  Footsteps came next, along with a wispy shadow draping the floorboards to my right.

  And then the voice—feminine, light, and acidic.

  “Please tell me you didn’t come alone, B. God, that would be so boring.”

  CHAPTER 31

  10:13 PM

  I recognized that voice the instant I heard it.

  I twisted around, seeing her, but I still didn’t believe.

  She was dead.

  I’d left her in the cave twenty-four hours ago, her body as lifeless as all the others.

  I noticed her hair first, long and brown, falling over one shoulder in a thick braid. She stood there, body straight as a rail, one hand propped on her hip, spangled bracelets that she’d designed twining up her arm.

  “Suze,” I said, the word coming out high-pitched, confused. “You’re alive.”

  She smiled and gave me a coy little nod.

  Suze “I’m Sexy and I Know It” Moore was alive! Alive and well and standing right there in front of me. Instinct kicked in and I started forward, my arms reaching out to grab her and pull her to me, a surge of relief washing away the horror that had been with me since the cave.

  “Bailey, no!” Hannah shouted.

  But she was too late. Suze’s hands shot out, one latching tightly around my wrist, the other yanking the screwdriver from my grasp and tossing it into the corner. She began tugging me toward the chairs.

  “Suze?” Confused, I dug my heels into the floorboards, feeling the grit of dirt scraping beneath my shoes. “We have to get out of here.”

  She looked at me, her eyes glittering, her hand squeezing me so tightly, I could feel the blood pulsing through my veins. “Well, that wouldn’t be any fun.”

  “We’re not here to have fun,” I said, wondering what had happened to her. I’d heard of the Stockholm Syndrome. But this? This seemed extreme, even for Suze, who liked to push it to the limits.

  “Oh, but we are,” she said, her head tipping back, her deep, throaty laughter spilling around us. “This is the grand finale. It’s what we’ve been waiting for.”

  “Stop,” I said, yanking my wrist away and scrabbling back a few steps. “You’re scaring me.”

  Suze fluttered her hand in the air, a smile lighting up her face. “And to think, we’re just getting started tonight.”

  “Started with what?” I asked, looking to Hannah and JJ, who’d sunk down in their seats.

  “Sorry. Can’t tell until everyone arrives.” Suze propped her hands on her hips, her bracelets jangling as she tipped her head to the side. “That wouldn’t be fair.”

  I looked at the chairs again, counting. There were five.

  “Who else is coming?” I asked.

  “That’s a surprise,” Suze said with a wink. “But we won’t all be sitting. The chairs are for audience members only.”

  She clapped her hands, jumping up and down a few times on the balls of her feet.

  “This is going to be perfect,” she said, her voice trembling with excitement.

  I took in my surroundings again, suddenly understanding several things at once. First, Hannah and JJ weren’t sitting in those chairs. They were trapped in them, shackles clasped around their ankles, a thick chain stretching from their bare feet to a large b
olt fastened into the cabin’s floor. Second, there was a staircase in the corner that might be an additional escape route. And third, centered on the kitchen table, was a knife—light gleaming off the metal blade.

  “We just have to wait until they all get here,” Suze said with a shrug, slowly circling the chairs, her fingers sliding along the smooth wooden armrests. “Then the party can begin.”

  Hannah tapped her foot on the floor so softly I almost didn’t hear it. The rhythm was familiar, a secret beat that we used to clap to get each other’s attention back in middle school. I watched her eyes skip from me to the door I’d entered through and back again.

  Go, she mouthed. While you can.

  I shook my head.

  Hannah’s eyes filled with tears. Get help.

  Suze started toward me again, that smile still on her lips. “You aren’t thinking of leaving, are you?”

  I pulled my shoulders back, looking her right in the eyes, but I didn’t answer.

  I was weighing my options: go for the knife so I had a way to protect myself or go for the door and try to find help. As much as I hated it, I knew Hannah was right. I had to get out before Suze, who had obviously lost her mind, allowed Wes to chain me to one of the chairs in the middle of the room.

  I swiveled, lunging for the door, leaping out of the cabin and onto the back porch. The smell of gasoline washed over me again, and I hesitated, wondering which way to turn.

  That’s when I saw them staggering out of the darkness, moving as one toward the cabin. Two bodies tangled up in each other, a puzzle that I couldn’t piece together. But I knew enough to shout a warning, and when he looked up, his brown hair falling into his eyes as he caught sight of me, I did.

  “Careful, Jude!” I yelled, wondering what he was doing there, and how I could be so lucky that he had shown up when I needed him most. An image popped into my mind—Jude following Wes’s truck from the parking lot of Cold Stone, tailing us across winding back-country roads and up into the hills. But then it hit me. So far, nothing had been as it seemed. I’d found the envelopes in Wes’s truck. Suze was alive, not dead. What if Jude’s reason for following had nothing to do with helping me?