She chugged more coffee before dumping the contents of her bag onto the table. Guinness’s packet was on top. She took a nervous scan of the gallery. The bakery counter was empty except for a lone employee. Watercolors of local settings sprinkled the walls, but the only viewers were a couple of tourists in matching Brooks Brothers outfits and the kind of canvas hats that screamed we’re not from here. There were no prying eyes, no one to watch her.
Satisfied, she began to pore through the packet again, hoping something new would jump out at her, a clue she’d missed the first time. But no matter how carefully she read, nothing more slunk out from between the lines. Kyla was being stalked, that much was clear. But the by whom was still a big question mark.
Sydney dropped her forehead onto the table with a soft bang. If only she could talk to Guinness. But he was still on lockdown in rehab: no phone, no computer. With a groan, she sat back up and returned the packet to her bag. Two photos were left on the table, the same two photos she’d been carrying around for days. Sydney laid them out side by side.
The first was the photo she’d stolen of Kyla’s destroyed boat float—the photo that had been missing from the file at the firehouse. The shot showed the solitary crater at the center of the float. Sydney had spent hours researching accidents, and over and over she’d drawn the same conclusion. There was only one thing that could create a clean, single hole like that: an explosive.
Kyla’s float had been in the middle of the ocean when it went up in flames. Which meant if the darer had thrown an explosive, it would have to have been from up on Dead Man’s Falls, Echo Bay’s expanse of cliffs.
Sydney turned to the second photo on the table. It was a stunning shot she’d captured of Echo Bay’s ghost lights. In the corner of the photo, right where the lights originated, there was a shadow—a shadow that looked a lot like a person. The shadow was standing on Dead Man’s Falls.
What if that shadow belonged to the darer? What if he or she had not only thrown an explosive at Kyla’s boat, but had been faking the ghost lights all along, too?
Sydney scraped her chair back. Adrenaline was suddenly pumping through her veins. She had to see the sight for herself. Maybe there was some kind of clue there. If she could just figure out who had been after Kyla, it could be the answer to all their questions.
Fifteen minutes later she was winding her car up the twisty, steep roads that lead to Dead Man’s Falls. She parked in the flattest area she could find. She’d have to make the rest of the trip on foot. She tucked the small bottle of pepper spray Tenley had bought each of them into her purse. Then she started up one of the narrow, bouldered paths that forked and crisscrossed as they ascended to the top of the cliffs. Sydney wavered as the path grew narrower. She could hear the ocean roaring at the edge of the cliff, and it struck her how easy it would be to just disappear up here. She shoved the thought away. She’d made it too far to turn back now.
The path twisted several more times before she reached the top. Down below, the ocean was a velvety blanket, silky and dark as it flapped in the breeze. Sydney breathed in the cool, salty air. She was standing in the very spot where she’d seen the shadow in her picture—the very spot where someone might have launched an explosive at Kyla’s float.
There was just one problem. Sydney’s gaze landed on a rock that jutted out in the distance. It was wide and crooked, and it stretched straight out over the ocean, like a bridge to nowhere. That rock would have served as a barricade. An explosive would have crashed into it long before it reached the ocean.
Sydney crept closer to the edge, searching for another place that could have served as a launching spot. She stopped in front of a patch of rock that sloped sharply downward. At the bottom was a tiny, flat, cave-like area. It would be the perfect vantage point to launch something toward the ocean. Except that it was barely large enough to hold a raccoon, let alone a killer.
Sydney groaned, frustrated. Every time she thought she was getting somewhere, a brand-new roadblock sprang up. It was like being trapped inside a never-ending maze. The wind picked up, howling through the rocks. It was time to get out of there.
She’d just started back down one of the bouldered paths when a strange pattering made her stop. Were those footsteps? She froze, her breath narrowing into soft, raspy pulls.
There they were again. They were definitely footsteps—but animal or human, she couldn’t tell. Where were they coming from? She looked frantically around, but the sound was echoing off the rocks, making it impossible to locate its origin.
She pressed her back against a rock, feeling quietly for the pepper spray in her purse. It was all she had to protect herself. Her eyes flickered toward the edge of the cliff, where rock met air. All it would take was one push backward.… She shuddered, imagining it. For a second there would be free fall, the wind a tunnel around her. Then, just like the explosive, she, too, would hit that plank.
The footsteps sharpened. There was no doubt: They were two feet, not four. A person—maybe the darer—was up here.
Instinct took over as Sydney crouched down. The sound echoed all around her, making it seem as if the person were everywhere at once. The ocean roared behind her, a warning. She had no choice. She had to move.
She took off down the path, keeping her head low. She could hear the intruder drawing closer. She hurried right, her heart in her throat. There were the footsteps again. The noise circled around her, dizzying. The edge of the cliff was just feet away, and her eyes went to the drop as she kept climbing down. One wrong step, and it would all be over.
Sydney broke into a run. When she finally reached her parking spot, she gasped in relief. She’d never been so happy to see her reject of a car before. She threw herself into the front seat and locked the doors. As she fumbled with her key, she could swear she caught a glimpse of a shadow, darting swiftly behind a rock. She jammed her key into the ignition, turning hard. But before she could slam on the gas, she saw it.
A delicate gold chain was draped over her steering wheel. A pendant swung from the bottom of it: four swirly gold letters. KYLA.
The air in the car seemed to thin as Sydney shoved the necklace into her bag. The darer really had been there: on the cliffs, in her car. Whoever it was had been watching her, trailing her. There was no need for a note; the necklace screamed the message loud and clear.
The darer had killed Kyla. And one by one, they would be next.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Wednesday, 12:00 PM
For a few blissful seconds, Tenley had forgotten. She headed straight for her table in the cafeteria as if everything were normal. But the faces around it were cold and hard. Jessie glared at her as she muttered something under her breath, making everyone laugh. Tenley looked beseechingly at Hunter, but he averted his eyes, guilt written across his face. Next to him, Marta did the same.
The cafeteria seemed to swirl around Tenley as she backed away. Her lunch bag slipped out of her grip, its contents scattering everywhere. Her cheeks flushed red as she crouched down to collect them.
“Need help?”
Tenley looked up sharply. Tim was standing over her, a wrinkle forming between his eyebrows. “Here.” He handed her her yogurt, which had slid several feet.
Tenley took it gratefully. Just seeing Tim made the thorns inside her retract a little. She’d barely talked to him since the video was shown at the assembly. He’d been reassuring when he saw her in the hall on Monday, but thanks to Lanson’s lawyer-story boot camp, she hadn’t even had time to call him that night. Then yesterday he’d texted to say he was skipping school for a “mental surf day.”
She shoved the yogurt into her lunch bag as she stood up. “You don’t know how happy I am that you’re here.” Nearby, the hot-food line erupted in whispers, multiple pairs of eyes flickering in her direction. She forced her focus on Tim. “Want some company for lunch?”
Tim fiddled with a loose string on his hemp necklace. “I’m not sure that’s the best idea right now.” He’d been l
ooking over her head, at something in the distance, but he finally lowered his gaze. The guarded look in his eyes took her aback.
“I spent a lot of time thinking yesterday, Tenley. I like you. I have since that night you first tripped over my surfboard. But these games you and your friends play…” He shook his head, looking bewildered. “They’re really messed up. First you’re playing with fireworks out on the water, and Caitlin ends up dead. And now you’re drugging your friend’s water bottle for fun?”
“It wasn’t for fun!” The words slipped out before Tenley could stop them. She recoiled, regretting them instantly.
Tim raised his eyebrows. “Then what was it for?”
“I…” she began. But every sentence led to the same unspeakable conclusion. “It was a mistake,” she finished weakly.
“That’s just not enough of a reason for me.” Tim pulled harder at his necklace. It snapped off, coming away in his hand. He closed his fingers around it, his expression hardening into resolution. “I need some time to sort out my head.” In the dim roar of the cafeteria, his voice was quiet. But there was no mistaking his words.
“Time,” Tenley repeated dully. First Caitlin, then her other friends, and now Tim. The darer was snipping away at her life, person by person. Soon only tattered scraps would be left. Her anger returned hard and fast. This wasn’t supposed to be her life. “I have to go,” she mumbled. She didn’t look at Tim as she tore out of the cafeteria.
She headed straight to the computer lab. Last night she’d spent hours rereading the dream journal she’d taken from Caitlin’s bedroom. Before Caitlin died, she’d been recording in that journal her dreams about her kidnapping. It was where she described in detail the room where she’d been held: a basement with red walls and red carpet and red curtains. It was also where Tenley had learned that Caitlin had finally seen her kidnapper’s face in a dream: not Jack Hudson at all, but a woman.
Now that Tenley had proof that the darer—this mystery woman—had set Jack Hudson up, she was desperate to find another clue about the real kidnapper. But no matter how many rereads she did, all she took away from Cait’s journal were the same basic facts. The kidnapper was a woman with a red basement, who owned an antique toy circus train and a sapphire ring. It wasn’t much to go on. She couldn’t exactly search all the basements in Echo Bay, and she’d already tried to track down the train to no avail. Which left her with the ring.
The darer had recently given Sydney a sapphire ring—presumably the very one she’d worn when she’d kidnapped Caitlin. It made Tenley wonder: What would happen if the ring suddenly and publicly changed hands? Would the darer panic enough to get sloppy?
She’d talked it over with Sydney and Emerson the night before, after they’d caught up one another on all the recent darer developments. They’d all agreed: It was worth a shot. So in the middle of the night, with sleep eluding her, Tenley took action. Ever since the ring accidentally ended up in Guinness’s belongings at their house, Tenley had been storing it for safekeeping. At 3:00 AM she dug it out from the bottom of her dresser and took a few photos of it. Then she listed it on North Shore Sales, a popular local resale site. Each morning, Channel 4 News did a short feature on the site’s best new listings, and, just as Tenley had hoped, that morning the feature had been on the ring. She knew it was a long shot, but if the killer saw the ring on TV and tried to buy it back, they’d finally have a solid lead.
Now, Tenley took a seat in the back of the computer lab and logged on to North Shore Sales’s website. The description she’d listed popped up onto the screen. Gorgeous sapphire ring for sale! Top quality! Tenley’s eyes went to the two blue envelopes at the top of the page. It looked as if she had messages.
The first one was spam. But the second one looked legitimate. I’m interested in purchasing this ring, a user named Computerlover2 had written. Would you be able to meet at 4:30 today so I can take a look at it through a jeweler’s loupe? I’ll be at 331 Hillside Drive in Echo Bay.
Tenley’s heart rate spiked instantly. It probably wasn’t their darer. But there was always a chance.
I’ll be there, she wrote back.
At four twenty that afternoon, Tenley was on her way to 331 Hillside Drive. She had the radio on a smooth-rock station, something she did only when she drove alone, and she let the piano-dominated song calm her nerves. In just ten minutes she would find out who Computerlover2 was.
The song ended, replaced by the DJ’s low, smooth voice. “Marlin Coby here with a North Shore weather update. Eight states are likely to be hit by a blizzard building off the Gulf of Mexico, including our great state of Massachusetts.”
“Snow in October again?” Tenley muttered. “Why do I live in Massachusetts?” She reached forward to turn up the volume.
“The storm has already been dubbed Octo-storm,” Marlin continued. “You might want to put away your pumpkins and take out your sleds, because we’re talking a full nor’easter: closed roads, power outages, downed phone lines. We still have almost a week before it hits, though, so don’t wait until the last minute to stock up on essentials and put up those storm shutters.”
A new song started, but Tenley wasn’t listening anymore. She kept hearing those words: closed roads, downed phone lines. Maybe snow in October wasn’t such a bad thing. There was a lot the darer could control, but no one could operate in those conditions, not unless he or she was superhuman.
A few minutes later Tenley pulled up to a huge, industrial-looking building. Confused, she double-checked the address on her phone’s map. 331 Hillside Drive. She’d been expecting a jeweler’s office, since the buyer had mentioned a loupe, but this looked more like a factory. She peeked into her purse. Her pepper spray was tucked safely next to the ring box.
A long, wooded pathway led up to the building. As Tenley rounded a bend, a sign came into view. BAUER INDUSTRIES.
Wait, wasn’t that—
“Tenley!” Calum Bauer emerged from the building’s steel doors, waving energetically. He was wearing a zip-up sweatshirt over a T-shirt that illustrated the step-by-step evolution of a human into a robot. “I didn’t realize that you were the seller until you e-mailed me back.” He flashed a lopsided grin as he ambled toward her. “How fortuitous!”
Tenley swallowed a groan. In her opinion, Calum Bauer was the worst kind of tragedy. He’d been born to one of the richest men in the country, only to grow into a ghostly pale, computer-loving supernerd. The bidder’s handle, Computerlover2, suddenly made complete sense. “You’re looking to buy a ring?” she asked dubiously. “For a female?”
Calum nodded, oblivious to her sarcasm. “I’ve been on a quest to find a gift for a special someone, and your ring seems like it could be perfect.”
Tenley averted her gaze. She wondered if he was talking about Sydney. She’d seen the way he’d looked at her at the homecoming dance: One word from Sydney and he’d morphed from computer nerd into slobbering puppy. She winced at the thought of his regifting Sydney with the darer’s ring. Not exactly the way to her heart. Then again, neither was his penchant for talking like a grandfather.
“I just want to take a quick inspection through a loupe,” Calum continued. “If it’s as perfect as I think, I’ll proffer whatever price you’re asking.”
Proffer? It took all of Tenley’s willpower not to roll her eyes. “The thing is, Calum, I, um, actually changed my mind on the drive over.” She cleared her throat, thinking fast. “The ring is more sentimental to me than I realized. I don’t think I can part with it after all.” Not unless it’s to a kidnapping darer. “I hope you understand.”
Calum nodded, looking disappointed. “Of course. Would you mind if I still take a quick look at it, though? If there’s a brand name on it somewhere, I might be able to replicate it. Then you won’t have come all the way out to my dad’s offices for nothing.”
Tenley hesitated. She didn’t love the idea of letting the ring out of her possession. But the hopeful look on Calum’s face was so sweetly pathetic tha
t she found herself agreeing.
Calum led her into the building and down a long hallway. Huge computer screens filled every room they passed. Tenley caught sight of several young guys hunched over their keyboards. With the thick glasses and scrawny arms, they managed to make Calum look like a movie star. He, at least, was actually pretty built, thanks to a summer of lifeguarding at the Club.
She followed Calum to a room in the back of the building. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined one wall, offering an unobstructed view of the bay behind the building. “Conference room,” Calum explained. He pulled a small jeweler’s loupe out of his pocket.
Tenley handed him the ring and dropped down at the table. She kicked her foot absently as she watched Calum. He was holding the loupe over the stone, turning it left and then right so the facets caught the light. She was pretty sure she’d never seen a male under the age of thirty look that closely at jewelry in her life. She shifted a little in her seat. Why was Calum so interested in the ring? A warning bell rang in her head.
“I don’t think you’re going to find a brand name inside the stone,” Tenley said tightly.
Calum looked up, blinking hard. “Sorry, I just got caught up.” He paused, turning the ring between his fingers. “My mom taught me. She used to be somewhat of a connoisseur when it came to jewelry.” He dropped his gaze to the table. “Old habits,” he said with a shrug.
Tenley’s chest squeezed. This was what the darer had done to her: filled her with paranoia, turned everyone into a suspect. “My dad used to love to walk along Dune Way and analyze all the waterfront houses,” she said quietly. “I still do it to this day.”
“Habit,” Calum confirmed. He looked over at her. “Is that what that locker-room video was all about? Old habits?”
Tenley tensed at the mention of the video. She could feel her eyes blazing as she met Calum’s gaze. But there wasn’t any judgment on his face. Just an open curiosity.
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