“Hey, detective,” Gibson says.
I spin on my heel to face him. When did he get out of the bathroom?
Five pairs of eyes watch me like they think I’m having a breakdown. And I feel like I just might. The intensity of what’s happening is overwhelming. It’s one thing to watch a TV show or listen to a podcast—it’s another to experience it in real time.
“Yeah?”
“What are you doing?”
I wave at him. “Going over things. Figuring it out. This is what I do. I’ll admit, I usually get there quicker. The answer is in here somewhere…. We just need to think. Could Malcolm be Robert’s dad?”
“He doesn’t have kids,” Gibson replies.
“No, he told you he doesn’t have kids.” Liam raises a brow at me, and I nod. He’s getting it. Question everything. Come at it from every angle. Don’t blindly believe everything you’re told.
“Fine. He could’ve lied, I guess. But why?”
Liam stands taller, demanding our attention. He has a theory. “He’s more interested in money than anything else? No wife or husband. No partner at all. He said he’s married to his work. Robert would be pissed if his own dad rejected him and then paid his mom crap.”
“That makes sense,” Harper says. “Right? I wouldn’t blame him for being angry. If my dad did that, I’d want revenge.”
“Pretty sick revenge, though,” Liam says. “Why not just out him as a deadbeat? Murder is a bit…well, overkill.”
“Are you talking yourself out of your own theory?” I ask, smiling as I remember the number of times I’ve done that before. It’s so frustrating to spend time and effort figuring something out, being sure, then doubting yourself.
I’ve since learned to trust my gut and follow my instincts with a story.
Liam’s frown is adorable. “I don’t know. My life was pretty simple before this weekend, Pais. I never had to think about this stuff.”
“You never tried to figure out gamer plots? Or whatever you do?” Harper sounds skeptical.
“Not to this extent, no.”
Gibson leads us along the empty corridor and into the kitchen. I half expected Robert to jump out. Gibson listens, not adding much to the conversation. I can tell from the vacant look in his eyes that his mind is somewhere else. Like with Reeve.
It’s not looking good for Reeve. It’s been ages since he and Liam split up. Gibson needs positivity right now, so I’ll never voice my concerns. Besides, it’s not like he doesn’t know there’s a possibility that his friend is already dead.
In the kitchen, we raid the cupboards and fill bags with as much food and water as we can. Harper grabs more Cokes—no beer bottles—and a pack of candy.
She notices me watching and shrugs. “If I’m dying, it’s with a belly full of candy and a sugar rush.”
Who could argue with that?
“I’m with you.”
We cram into the elevator and the doors roll shut. I’m holding a bag full of premade sandwiches that Gibson said Kenna and her team had been making for the staff. They’re still good until tomorrow. Harper has the junk. Gibson and Liam have drinks. Ava has her charger and a princess attitude.
My stomach rumbles but no one seems to notice over the sound of rustling bags and anxiety. I feel a little sick at the thought of eating a sandwich made by someone who was just murdered, but I try to shake it off. Food is food, and we have to eat.
Gibson hands me the bag of bottled water when we get into the club room. “Chuck them in the fridge, Paisley. Liam, we need to get this door blocked off. Harper and Ava, please find Reeve.”
A wave of nausea crashes against my stomach as I think about Reeve being out there alone. He would’ve been back by now if he was okay. If Robert hasn’t gotten to him, what else could’ve happened? He hit his head. Maybe he did have a concussion and he’s collapsed somewhere.
I stuff the drinks away and go straight to the window. “Reeve, where are you?” I whisper.
Harper looks over her shoulder. “He’s probably dead. Soon we all will be.”
“Don’t say that. He’ll be okay. He’ll find his way back. I know it.”
“You like him,” she says.
My heart skips. “He saved me.”
“Uh-huh.”
I roll my eyes at her. She notices more than I thought. But the truth is, I don’t know how I feel about Reeve. Or Liam, for that matter. They’re both gorgeous and have been flirty, so I think they’re interested. I don’t know.
Scanning the park, I notice that we have a good few hours of daylight left and we’re going to need every second of it. When night comes, Robert has an even bigger advantage.
“We should be able to see Robert from here.”
Behind us, Liam and Gibson haul furniture about.
“Don’t go over the top,” I say. “Reeve might need to get in quickly.”
Gibson’s face pales.
If Robert’s chasing him, we might not have enough time to let Reeve in before he’s stabbed.
Over by the Waltzer, I notice something move. I step closer to the window.
“You see that?” I ask.
“Yes! There!” Ava says, pointing toward the Waltzer cars that practically tilt upward ninety degrees.
“Who is it?” I mutter.
Gibson and Liam discard a large piece of furniture they’re moving and run to the window.
I strain my eyes, but I can just about make out the figure moving behind one of the black-and-white cups.
“That’s not…Is it Robert? Wait. No, it’s Reeve!” I say. “It’s Reeve! He’s okay!”
Gibson spins and sprints to the door.
“No, no, no,” Harper says, grabbing a fistful of his hoodie just before Gibson leaves the room.
He yanks himself away. “Stay here if you want. I’m not leaving him to die!”
Gibson’s words feel like bugs crawling all over me. I stood back and watched Camilla be killed. We did nothing to prevent it from happening. How can I do that again?
“He’s going back another way. Why wouldn’t he come here?” Ava leans against the window.
“I can’t see him anymore,” Liam adds.
Gibson comes back then and presses his forehead to the glass. “Where did he go? Which way?”
“Past the Waltzers,” Ava replies. “He’s getting farther away.”
“Maybe he spotted something. Does anyone see Robert in the opposite direction?” I ask.
There’s nothing but sunshine, shadows, and rides.
Reeve has disappeared out of sight, and the park is still.
The water isn’t too bad if you’re not near the cliff face, so I wonder what our chances of swimming away are—ignoring the fact that I could have easily drowned earlier. It’d take hours, but we might be spotted by boats closer to the mainland.
Minutes pass and we see absolutely nothing.
“Where would he go, Gibson?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I’ve no clue. He knows the park better than I do. Shortcuts, rides, hideouts, all of it. He knows it all.”
“That means if anyone can survive out there, he can,” Harper says.
“Yeah, but maybe he’s already used his luck on not dying when he was hit.”
Liam narrows his eyes. “Yeah. Luck.”
“What are you insinuating?” Gibson asks, narrowing his eyes.
“That Reeve is the killer. Think about it. He’s been alone every time this asshole has struck, he knows the island, he’s the only one the killer didn’t use a knife on. And you’ve just told us he had a troubled childhood.”
Gibson squares his shoulders, ready to defend his friend. But there’s something in his eyes that sends a chill down my spine. Doubt? “That’s not what I said.”
“Could whatever he went through lead to this?” Harper asks. “If he wasn’t your friend, could you link the two things?”
Yeah.
Gibson grinds his teeth, and he looks like he’s ready to tell us all to go to hell.
“His silence means yes,” Ava says.
Harper rubs her forehead. “So we’re saying it’s not Robert. It’s Reeve.”
Ava waves her hand in front of her. “Both begin with an R.”
“Are you kidding me?” Gibson mutters. “Do you hear yourself?”
“Reeve could be Camilla’s son, though. She’s, what, mid to late forties?” Liam guesses.
I nod. “Yeah, I’d say so.”
“Paisley, we’ve been through this. You said you believed he was innocent.” Gibson is irritated that I’ve flipped back, but I can’t be sure of anything. The more I learn, the more confused I get. It’s supposed to work the other way around.
From years of being obsessed with crime, I’ve learned that it can happen like that. Information stacks up and it takes a minute to set it in order.
“When did you two have that conversation?” Liam asks.
“Before we found you all again. Look, it doesn’t matter. I go back and forth depending on what’s happening at the time.”
“Why don’t we discuss you, huh?” Gibson says to Liam. “You’ve been absent when the killer strikes too.”
“Hey, screw you. I ran into the haunted house because I heard you and Paisley screaming. I saw Kenna cut from ear to ear, so don’t come at me with—”
“There! Reeve’s on the move,” Ava says. “If you want to stop arguing for two minutes. If he’s the killer, we’ll find out if we watch him.”
“It’s not him,” Gibson grits through his teeth.
We watch Reeve crouch behind anything and everything that’s bigger than him.
I place my palms on the glass and only realize I’m not breathing when the window doesn’t mist in front of me.
“Please get back here,” I murmur.
“Robert’s not out there,” Ava says. “I wonder why.”
Gibson doesn’t bite. He continues to stare out the window with frightened eyes as he searches for his friend.
I can’t imagine how it must feel.
“He’s making his way to the hotel, I think,” Gibson says.
Placing my hand on Gibson’s arm, I reply, “That’s good. He’s going to be fine.”
“When we’re all back together, I say we go together for the jammer. We can set something on fire if we can’t find it,” Harper says.
A large fire would be seen from the mainland. It’s not something you’d expect to see on an amusement park resort. The fireplace in the hotel wouldn’t kick out enough smoke to raise an alarm, so it’s not like anyone would be used to seeing that from here.
“Harper, that’s not a bad idea.”
“What? The fire thing? Do you seriously want to set fire to the island?” Liam asks.
“Not the whole island,” I reply, and I sound a little defensive even to my own ears.
Gibson, still watching Reeve, adds, “We could set fire to the check-in booths by the entrance. The fire would face the mainland. People would see it. Let’s get to the restaurant and grab as much alcohol as we can carry. Matches will be in the kitchen.”
“What about Reeve?” Ava asks. “We’ve only just got here, a place where we thought we’d be safest, and now you want to go back out there! You guys are all over the place!”
“So we should just stay still even if we’ve thought of a better plan?” I ask. “We’re going to die if we don’t get help, Ava.”
“I’m just saying we should stick to one thing. Not ping-pong between everything.”
“If you have a better idea, we’re all ears,” Liam says.
Gibson snorts. “Oh, you’re on board now, are you?”
“Just because I had questions doesn’t mean that I don’t agree with plan two-point-oh or whatever number we’re on now.”
“Nine-point-oh,” Ava mutters.
I move away from the window because everyone else is still watching. My anxiety is only getting worse the longer I watch Reeve, and I need to think. “It doesn’t matter how many plans have failed. This is where we are now. Nothing else has worked, we’ve wasted enough time on the jammer. Robert has control of that, but if we set a fire, that’s something we’d have control of. We take away his power.”
“Do we wait for Reeve to get here?” Liam asks.
“No, he’ll have to pass us in the bar to get up here anyway. Come on, let’s get downstairs so we don’t miss him.”
We run out of the room. Gibson is first and he leads us to the stairwell. It’s probably safer anyway.
There was no chat about being quiet so as not to alert the serial killer where we are. We thunder down the stairs like we’re advertising for our own deaths. I hold the rail, so I don’t fall on my face. My limbs are still seriously aching. It’ll be a miracle if I can even walk tomorrow.
“Gibson?” Reeve shouts with no regard for his safety. Same as us. “Are you here?”
“Reeve!” Gibson yells back, throwing open the doors at the bottom of the stairwell.
I get through the door in time to see them do a half hug, half slap-on-the-back thing. Reeve laughs. “Damn, it’s good to see you.” He looks over Gibson’s shoulder to see who’s with him. Who’s survived.
“You’re bleeding,” I say, stepping around Gibson.
He shakes his head. “It’s not my blood.”
