“I-I couldn’t sleep,” Minnie said. Her eyes were red and puffy. “So I came downstairs and … I don’t know. I wanted to look outside and maybe see if the guys were back and then I saw … I saw …”
“Did you see anyone?” Meg asked. “Did someone come through here?”
Minnie looked at her, confused. “No, no one’s here.” She looked over Meg’s shoulder toward the study. “Where did you—”
“But someone must have come down the hall,” Meg said. She looked around the foyer. There was no place to hide. No closet doors, no crawl spaces or cupboards. Nothing.
“Oh man,” Gunner said. He and Kumiko stood in the hallway.
“If it means what the first two meant,” Kumiko said. “Then …”
T.J. ran down the stairs. “Who’s missing?”
Meg felt Minnie catch her breath. Oh God. It was Ben.
“NO!” Minnie screamed. She pushed past T.J. and sprinted up the stairs.
T.J. followed close on Minnie’s heels, then Kumiko and Gunner. Meg trailed behind. She didn’t run with the same sense of urgency as the others. Truthfully, she was afraid of what they’d find. Another body, this time Minnie’s new crush.
Meg paused on the landing outside Ben’s room. Everyone else was inside, but Meg waited, terrified of what she’d see. With Minnie’s already fragile state of mind, Meg wasn’t sure she could handle what she’d find in that room. Part of her wanted T.J. or Gunner to deal with Minnie’s imminent breakdown. She wanted to turn around and walk out of that house and never go back.
“NOOOOOO!” Minnie wailed.
Shit.
Minnie’s weeping filled the room as Meg slowly walked through the door. She felt like a condemned prisoner approaching final judgment. Kumiko leaned into Gunner, her face buried in his burly arms, and T.J. stood at the end of the bed gripping the bedpost so fiercely his knuckles shone white.
“Who did this?” Minnie cried. “Who did this?”
On the far side of the bed, Minnie knelt on the floor, cradling Ben’s head in her lap. He lay facedown and all Meg could see of him was his mussed blond hair. His left arm was stretched out toward his backpack on the floor near the window as if he’d been trying to reach it.
Minnie rocked back and forth. “It’s not fair. It’s not fair.”
Meg knelt down beside Minnie and put an arm around her shoulder. Minnie flinched.
“This wasn’t an accident,” Minnie said. It sounded like an accusation.
Despite the panic rising inside her, Meg fought to remain calm. “I didn’t say it was.”
“Someone did this. Someone did this on purpose.”
T.J. cleared his throat. “What happened? I mean …”
“He’s dead,” Minnie screeched. Her eyes flashed. “Murdered.”
Meg shivered as the word filled the room. “Minnie, maybe it was … I don’t know.”
“A mistake? An accident?” Minnie jerked away from her. “Three deaths in a row? Can you really explain that away?”
No. No, she couldn’t. But she also couldn’t admit that fact to Minnie, who was already on the brink of a total meltdown. Minnie sank her head to her chest, nuzzling her forehead against Ben’s blond hair. Meg could feel her sobs.
“Meg,” T.J. said, his voice barely above a whisper. He beckoned her to the other side of the bed. “Come look at this.”
T.J. crouched beside the nightstand. Next to him, a plastic water bottle had been tipped over, spilling its contents on the hardwood floor. T.J. bent to the ground and examined the liquid.
“Do you see what I’m seeing?” he asked.
She got down on her knees to get a closer look at the pooling liquid. The light from the window was dim but there appeared to be small bits of something solid floating in it. Meg sniffed.
“Oh my God,” she said, jerking her head back. “It smells like—”
“Pecan pie,” T.J. said.
Meg sat back on her heels. Someone had deliberately put ground pecans in Ben’s water, just as someone must have deliberately added almonds to the salad. If she’d been hesitant to believe that the deaths on this island weren’t necessarily accidents, that hesitation evaporated in an instant.
She’d been trying to deny it, all day. Perhaps as far back as when she arrived on the island. Something was wrong. Something was off. She should have trusted herself, listened to her gut. And now there was only one logical explanation.
Murder.
Panic welled up inside her. They’d lied to their parents about where they were going. Dear God; no one knew where they were. They could die on that island and no one would ever find them.
She looked at T.J. His brows were hunched low and pinched together above his nose, like he was in pain. He’d been trying to be a leader and keep everyone calm. That’s why he wanted Meg to stay quiet about the damage to the handrail, maintaining the line that everything was just a coincidence. Had he believed it himself? Meg wasn’t sure. All she knew now was that he was scared. Just like everyone else.
He stood suddenly, grabbed her by the shoulders, and lifted her to her feet. “We’re going to be fine, Meg. I promise. I’m sure there’s some logical explanation for all of this.”
More promises. More coincidences. Not this time. They had to face the truth.
“No, there isn’t.” Her voice was shaky but she meant every word. She grabbed T.J.’s hand and led him out of the room. “We need to talk.”
TWENTY THREE
GUNNER SAT ON THE STAIRS WITH KUMIKO IN his lap. “We didn’t do it,” he said immediately.
“Do it?” T.J. said.
“Kill him. K and I didn’t do it.”
T.J. held his hands up in front of him. “Hold up. No one said anything about—”
“It was murder,” Meg said. She was surprised how calm she sounded.
T.J. looked at her sidelong. “Are you sure?”
Meg nodded. “Positive.”
“See?” Kumiko said.
T.J. continued to look at her like he wasn’t totally convinced. “How can you be sure?”
“How can you not be sure?” Kumiko said.
T.J. paused, then nodded his head, finally giving in to the fact that all three deaths on the island had been intentional.
“Exactly,” Kumiko said. “There’s a killer in the house. We need to get the hell out of here.”
Gunner stroked her arm. “I’m sure the guys will find a phone.”
Kumiko turned on him. “Really? What if one of them is the killer? What if both of them are the killer?”
“Hold on,” T.J. said. “We can figure this out. We just need to think.”
He was right. Three deaths. If they assumed that each one was murder, then they should be able to figure out who the killer was.
“Any of us could have killed Lori,” Meg said. She still couldn’t believe she was speaking those words.
T.J. nodded. “True.”
Gunner shook his head. “K was with me.”
“Right,” Meg said. “I meant theoretically.” She wasn’t ready to go pointing fingers at people. She’d known Gunner since freshman year and found it hard to believe he might be a cold-blooded killer.
“What good does that do us?” Kumiko said. “Anyone could have killed Vivian, too.”
T.J. reached out and touched Meg’s arm. “Meg and I were together. We can vouch for each other.”
Meg was about to tell Kumiko and Gunner about the damage to the handrail, when Kumiko threw her head back and laughed.
“What?” T.J. asked.
“You really think that’s going to fly?”
Meg bristled. It was the first time in her life she’d been accused of a capital crime. Not a good feeling.
“It’s the truth,” T.J. said.
“Maybe,” Kumiko continued. “Like you wouldn’t give each other an alibi? Same with Gunner and me. Maybe we’re in it together.”
“Hey!” Gunner said. “Not cool.”
“I’m not saying that w
e did it,” Kumiko said. “Just making a point.”
T.J. pursed his lips. “Which is?”
“Yeah,” Gunner echoed. “Which is?”
“Which is?” Kumiko said. “Oh come on!” She tilted her head, gazing at Gunner with a look that said Really? You don’t get this? “We can’t trust anyone.”
“What if it’s not one of us?” Meg said.
T.J. turned to her. “What do you mean?”
“I mean there’s another possibility.”
“You mean you think there’s someone else in the house?” T.J. asked.
Kumiko snorted. “Wouldn’t that be convenient?”
“I saw someone,” Meg blurted out. “Coming into the house through the back patio right before Minnie found the third mark on the wall.”
“For reals?” Gunner said. “Who was it?”
Meg shook her head. “I couldn’t tell. I followed them around to the side door that opens into the study and then—”
“Oh, isn’t that perfect,” Kumiko said.
“Hey!” Meg said. She was tired of the finger-pointing, tired of the accusations. “I saw someone.”
Kumiko narrowed her eyes. “Sure you did. And then you just happened to be in the foyer when Minnie screamed?”
“Stop,” T.J. said. “We can’t turn on each other.”
“I read Lord of the Flies,” Gunner said. Meg was impressed he’d actually finished the book. “It didn’t end well.”
Kumiko pushed herself off Gunner’s lap. “News flash, we’re already like halfway through our own Lord of the Flies, people. We’ve got dead bodies piling up and I don’t know about you, but I don’t exactly want to be next.”
“What do you suggest we do?” T.J. said. Meg could hear the edge in his voice. He was barely containing his temper. “Sit in locked rooms until someone comes looking for us?”
Meg nodded toward Ben’s room. “Yeah, because that always works out so well.”
“It’s not funny!” Minnie screamed. She stood in the doorway to Ben’s bedroom, one hand firmly planted against the frame as if to balance herself, the other gripping the door handle behind her. With a flick of her wrist she slammed the door, then stormed right up to Meg.
“None of this is funny.”
“Of course not,” Meg said. “No one thinks it is.”
She could see Minnie’s eyes darting around the stairwell—from her to T.J., Gunner to Kumiko and back, up to the top of the tower where Lori’s body had been found, then back to Meg. She was losing it. Minnie’s new crush was dead. Her ex-boyfriend was holding hands with his new girl. And she was convinced that her ex-crush was interested in her best friend. Chernobyl had begun.
“We have to find out who did this,” Minnie said. “Which one of you did this.”
“Hey!” Meg was getting pissed off at being included in the list of suspects. While she recognized that someone like Kumiko, who didn’t know her from Charles Manson, might not trust her innocence, at the very least she expected Minnie to believe her. Right?
Minnie grimaced. “Everyone’s a suspect.”
Apparently not so much.
“Look,” T.J. said. “There’s got to be another explanation.”
“Like what?” Kumiko said. She’d refused Gunner’s silent pleas to get her to sit back down on his lap. She shook off his hand and leaned against the wall.
“Well …” T.J. glanced at Meg. He looked confused, like his mind had drawn a blank and he was hoping Meg could fill in the pieces. Minnie didn’t miss it. She emitted a sound somewhere between a growl and a sigh, and turned her back on them.
“Well …,” Meg said. Her brain snapped into overdrive. “Well, for starters, what if Lori or Vivian killed Ben?”
She saw Minnie jerk her head back, but she didn’t turn around.
“How?” Kumiko asked.
“The nuts were in his water bottle,” Meg said with a shrug. “Anyone could have put them in there at any time. I mean, we all witnessed the incident at dinner last night.”
“But don’t you think it was the same person?” T.J. asked. “They started out with the nuts in the salad, then had to move on to his water bottle?”
“Maybe,” Meg said. She wasn’t exactly sure her argument was convincing, but motivation-wise both options made sense. “Could be either.”
Kumiko remained unconvinced. “What about the others?”
“Um …” Okay, Meg. Think. “If Lori tried to kill Ben, then maybe she killed herself out of remorse?”
T.J. folded his arms across his chest. “And Vivian?”
“Could actually have been an accident,” Meg lied. She saw T.J. flick his head in her direction, but he didn’t correct her.
“Hm.” Gunner nodded. “It makes sense.”
“Barely,” Kumiko said.
“Or it was Nathan or Kenny,” Meg said.
“Shit.” Gunner looked deflated. “They’re totally not going to call the cops if one of them is a killer.”
T.J. jolted. “Gunner, you’re right.”
“I am?” Gunner tossed his streaked hair out of his face, exposing a rather confused smile.
“Totally.” T.J. looked at his watch. “They left almost three hours ago. They should have been back by now.”
That made Minnie turn around. “Do you think something happened to them?” she said, her eyes wide.
T.J. checked in with Meg before replying. “You know, probably not.” He forced a laugh. “They’re probably just enjoying a hot meal or something and forgot about us.”
Meg thought of Kenny’s face when they discovered Lori’s body that morning. She seriously doubted he was enjoying anything that had to do with the weekend. “There’s only one way to find out.”
Yikes. Had those words really come out of her mouth? Was she really suggesting a field trip across the isthmus in that weather?
“No way,” Kumiko said. Always the optimist. “We’d never make it.”
“We totally could,” T.J. said with conviction. “The storm’s let up. We could make it.”
Minnie backed away from the group. “I’m staying right here. I don’t trust any of you.”
“Minnie!” Meg couldn’t hide the hurt in her voice. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re full of lies. All of you.”
Meg grabbed her arm. “Minnie, think about what you’re saying.”
“Please.” Minnie flinched away from Meg’s grip. Her face was hard set. “You hide more lies than any of us.”
“Wow,” Kumiko said under her breath. She was back by Gunner’s side and he stroked the back of her leg with his hand. “How long did you date her?”
Minnie sucked in a breath. “What did you say?”
T.J. tried to keep them focused. “We should all go. Together. Safety in numbers.”
“Hell, no,” Minnie said. She’d backed all the way up to the door to Ben’s bedroom. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Oh, come on!” Meg said. The drama was getting unbearable, even by Minnie’s standards.
“I said NO!” Minnie screamed. She spun around, marched back to Ben’s bedroom, and slammed the door behind her.
Kumiko paused a moment, her eyes fixed on the door to Ben’s room, her face a mask of confusion. “As much as I hate to admit it,” she said slowly, “I kind of agree. I think we should stay here.”
“Me too,” Gunner said quickly. Meg honestly couldn’t tell if he agreed with Kumiko or not. Neither could he, probably.
“You sure, dude?” T.J. said.
Gunner looked to Kumiko. She gave a slight nod. “Yeah,” Gunner said. “I’m sure.”
T.J. shrugged. “Guess it’s just you and me, Meg.”
TWENTY FOUR
MOTHER NATURE FINALLY TOOK PITY ON THEM.
The rain had diminished as Meg and T.J. started down the stone steps of White Rock House. All that remained of the raging storm was a steady, light drizzle that soaked Meg’s ponytail within minutes, but it was so much better than the rel
entless, abusive hammering they’d received the last two times they were outside that Meg was grateful for the break.
There was no mystical parting of the clouds to allow sunshine to break through. No such luck. A thick cloud cover still blanketed the island, and mixed with the rapidly setting sun, there was barely enough light to see by.
The wind had also diminished. Instead of gales that might register on the Fujita Scale, it was more of a playful breeze that whipped damp strands of Meg’s hair across her face. The waves that had pummeled the isthmus and washed away the footbridge now merely lapped at its western shore, and though the sand was waterlogged and strewn with debris, at least Meg and T.J. could get across without fear of being washed out to sea.
Shorebirds hopped along the sand, pecking at dinner, and larger seagulls circled above, reemerged from wherever they had weathered the storm. There was life to the island, which made Meg smile despite herself, and a kind of prettiness to the gray, sodden world around her. A crispness to the air as it filled Meg’s lungs that she found energizing. A delight in the way the sand and stone crunched beneath her feet. She could see why people like the Taylors and Lawrences had built houses out in the relative wilderness. In the aftermath of the storm, it was peaceful in a sort of untamed way, where nature reminded you she was boss and could kick your ass any time she wanted.
Under difference circumstances Meg might have enjoyed it.
She wanted to talk to T.J., to tell him about Claire’s journal and how she might somehow be related to White Rock House, but he seemed distant, locked up in his head. He hardly even looked at her as they picked their way over the enormous trunks of Douglas firs the storm had washed ashore. So she waited. Maybe they’d find Nathan and Kenny at the Taylors’ house, waiting patiently for the police to arrive, and Meg could turn the diary over to the authorities and be done with it.
They kept to the high ground, just at the center of the isthmus. It was slow going, but Meg was happy to be doing, instead of sitting around waiting for something to happen. That was a change, but somehow the idea of staying at White Rock House with the bodies, and Minnie’s oscillating moods, and Kumiko’s finger-pointing … well, anything seemed better than that.
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