We run as fast as we’re physically able to, into the park and then back out of it. Something—adrenaline? terror?—enables me to keep up with Harper. Tears stream down my cheeks, but I manage to hold in the sobs I know will come eventually. Now isn’t the time for tears.
Harper leads us back into the park. It’s the last place I want to be, but we don’t have much choice. Robert’s boots thud loudly on the ground behind us.
After a minute, his steps fade. Neither of us slows at all. If he’s playing with us, we aren’t going down without a fight.
We run around the outside of the fence and Harper jumps up on the platform to the swings. I follow, holding her hand as tight as I can.
We both drop to our knees behind the center of the ride.
I slow my breathing and she puts her head between her knees.
After a few seconds, I crawl to poke my head around the corner.
I look up and scream when I see Robert’s legs inches from my face.
He tilts his head, looking down at us. Harper scrambles to her feet, tugging me up with her. I slip but manage to get away as Robert’s fingertips brush my arm. If I’d been any slower, he would’ve been able to grab me.
He’s toying with us. Letting us run. Enjoying the game.
“Paisley!” Harper screams as we run toward the other side of the swings.
I stop dead as Robert appears in front of us, going around the other way. He lunges, swiping his sword through the air and narrowly missing Harper’s leg. I manage to push her to the ground before he could strike.
I land on a swing. The chain rattles as I slip to the ground on top of Harper. We waste no time in kicking our legs as Robert attempts to move closer to us.
Screaming, I flail my legs like I’m possessed. Fear claws my throat as I fight for my life.
Finally, I manage to boot him in the shin, and he stumbles to his knees.
Harper and I leap to our feet. We shove swings out of our way. They fly back wildly. Maybe one of them will hit him. Stun him for a second.
I grab Harper’s hand again. The small comfort of being together spurs me on. We don’t know what’s happened to Liam, Reeve, or Gibson, but at least we have each other. We need to fight for that.
Harper leads us back out the gate and I’ve never been so thankful to not be in the damn amusement park. I never want to be back on that side of the fence again.
I look over my shoulder as we run through the gate.
“Gone,” I rasp. “He’s gone.”
Harper gulps a breath, and we slow down.
We’ve lost Robert. Slowing, I collapse on the ground by the edge of the cliff.
“He almost had us,” Harper says, sobbing.
I look down, and that’s when I notice the blood on my hands. Ava’s blood. It’s on my hoodie too.
I scrub my hands against the blades of grass. “Oh god, it’s all over me,” I say, hyperventilating as I try to rub off the blood.
“Paisley, we have to keep moving,” Harper says. “Paisley, stop! We need to go. He almost had us. He’s not done.”
“I’m covered.”
“Hey.” She sits beside me and grabs my hands. “It’s okay.”
“I tried to pull her faster but she…”
“I know. There was nothing we could do.” She shakes her head, wiping a tear away. “We did everything we could to help her, but now we need to help ourselves.”
“Which one of them is doing this?” I ask.
“I don’t know. Gibson is the only one we’ve been with while someone else has been chased or killed. But he’s way close to Reeve. I think he would protect him.”
“Yeah. He does that a lot.”
Her eyes shine with suspicion. “The childhood thing Gibson was talking about. You know what happened to Reeve.”
I scrub my hands on my sweats. Blood is drying in the creases of my palms like red rivers flowing on my skin.
“Reeve told me. He served time in juvenile prison when he got into a fight protecting Gibson. No one would give him a shot after, but Malcolm did. That’s what doesn’t make sense to me. Why ruin the one person who’s given you a chance?”
“He was in prison.”
“Yeah.”
“You didn’t think that was important to share with the rest of us?” She winces, realizing her voice is too loud.
“I didn’t think he was guilty! In the lobby when the lights went out, he was hit, and then James…How would he have had time to get over there, stab him, and get out before the lights came back on?” I say, keeping my voice low.
“Camilla could have.”
“She was against the window, presumably trying to look outside for Robert. I don’t think she could’ve.”
“So you believe he’s innocent?” Harper hisses.
“He doesn’t hate Malcolm. If anything, he feels like he owes him. You wouldn’t destroy the one person who gave you a job and a chance, would you?”
I look over my shoulder again.
“Do you think someone is trying to frame Reeve?”
“I don’t know—maybe. Robert would’ve had to get into the files to check Reeve’s history. I don’t think he or Gibson would’ve told anyone. But Malcolm knew and it’s safe to assume that Camilla would have too.”
Harper shudders. “Robert’s done his research on all of us.”
I nod. “Definitely. I mean, I looked you all up and I wasn’t even planning a murder spree.”
“I did too. We all did.” She lets out a long sigh.
“We all did,” I repeat. I stand up and look around. “We all did. One of us. Oh god, he lives with his mom.” My heart thuds harder in my chest as I piece it together. “His dad didn’t want to know him. He’s been hard on Malcolm and that makes sense because he doesn’t have it all despite his mom pretending that they do. Oh my god!”
“Yeah, we know that much about Robert but—”
“No, not Robert,” I say. “Liam.”
“Liam.” It’s her turn to echo me. “Stop it. Are you serious? You mean Liam is the one doing this?”
“He’s Robert.”
Harper looks incredulous. “Paisley, come on….”
“We trusted him because he’s one of us and we thought he didn’t know anyone on this island,” I say, feeling the truth of what I’m saying with every breath.
“Are you telling me that Camilla is his mom and they pretended not to know each other? Why would Malcolm play along?”
I nod. “That’s exactly what I’m saying, and maybe Malcolm wasn’t playing. Why assume that Malcolm knew what Robert looks like?”
“Slow down. Malcolm is his dad?”
I hesitate. “I’m having trouble with that. If some dude knocked me up and left me to raise a kid alone, I don’t think I’d take a job as his PA,” I say.
“Unless this was their plan all along.”
“Hmm…but Camilla’s been working for him for a long time. It doesn’t add up.”
Harper pinches the bridge of her nose. “If Malcolm isn’t his dad, who is he?”
“He’s my uncle.”
Harper and I both jolt. When we turn, we find him standing by the gate. Between us and the park. Behind us is the cliff’s edge.
Liam—Robert—holds the ski mask in one hand. The sword in the other.
Now he’s only wearing bloodstained black cargos, a long-sleeved tee, and a self-satisfied grin.
“You’re good, Paisley, I’ll give you that. A regular little detective. But how different things could have been for you if you’d just figured it out earlier. Maybe some of the others would still be alive.”
My heart ricochets against my rib cage and panic spreads through my veins. I know I’ve got to stay calm. Focused.
Or we’re dead.
Harper grabs my wrist tight. “Paisley,” she whispers, expecting me to do something.
Like what?
“Liam,” I say, raising my free hand, trying to think fast. “I—I just want to talk to you.”
“You want to talk?” He sounds amused, like he cannot comprehend why I would ever want to have a conversation with him after finding out he’s the killer. “Do you want it on the record, Paisley?”
He’s joking, but it gives me an idea.
“That’s what you want, right? Someone to tell your story. I mean, tell it from your point of view, not some detective or doctor painting you as a psycho. The troubled teen who turned to murder to solve his problems. What effect do videos games have on young minds?”
He turns up his nose.
No, I didn’t think he would like that much.
“You know that’s what they’re going to say about you,” I insist, trying to sound bolder than I feel inside. “It won’t matter why you did what you did. Not if you don’t get your side of the story across. You also know that. Think about it. A really great story needs survivors, witnesses. If Harper and I die and the rest of the world twists your truth, what will be the point of all of this, huh?”
I back up a little, taking Harper with me. She’s fast as lightning, she could get away if I distract him. One of us needs to get off this island. He’s not taking both of us down.
“Have a conversation with me for a minute. Let Harper walk away, and you and I can talk. We’ve done a lot of that this weekend already.”
Harper gasps beside me. “Paisley, no. I’m not leaving you.”
Liam waves the sword. “Yeah, come on. We’re all tired of running around all over this island. Let’s not spread the victims out again. I’ve done twenty thousand steps today.”
Hearing him talk about his step count throws me for a second. It’s almost a normal conversation until I remember he got those steps chasing people down.
“Why, Liam?” I ask.
It’s the only question I ask, but there are about a hundred more that are on the tip of my tongue. I don’t want to overload him and make him snap—again—and I want to keep him talking to bide time.
“Malcolm,” he replies.
It’s the only thing he says, and he says it as if I should understand.
“Why do you hate your uncle?”
He smirks. “How long do you think we have until the cops arrive?”
I lick my dry lips. If he feels cornered, he’ll react. “They might just send a boat out, not cops. Someone like Gibson.”
It’s a complete lie, obviously. The fact that we’re unreachable and there’s now a fire aren’t great signs that all is well. Cops will come.
They have to come.
I hold his stare and clench my jaw. He’s challenging me. Who will crack first? He wants to know if I believe my own bullshit.
Like a great reporter, I hold my nerve and stare right back into the eyes of a killer.
All he sees is my strength, not the huge waves of nausea roiling underneath.
“Liam, let Harper go. She needs to check on Ava. We don’t need her here when we talk.”
He snorts at my pitiful attempt to get Harper away. “Ava’s dead, Paisley. You know that.”
My stomach lurches. Her face flies into my mind. She was so scared. Poor Ava.
“What about Gibson and Reeve?” I ask, almost hoping that he won’t answer. If I don’t know, then I can pretend they’re alive and waiting for the boat.
Liam shrugs, looking away. “Probably bled out by now.”
His words knock the air from my lungs.
Could that be true? He probably had enough time if he went straight for them after the explosion, but then he would’ve risked one of us seeing. And he wouldn’t meet my eyes when he said that.
He has for everything else.
“God,” Harper whispers.
I can’t tell her that they’re probably not dead. Maybe they’ll find us if they’re still alive. Though we agreed to keep going forward, so why would they look?
“It’s just us now?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Malcolm isn’t dead yet. Let’s take a little walk before the cavalry arrives.” He motions with the sword for us to move, and so we do.
The explosion must’ve been about ten or fifteen minutes ago. It takes twenty to get here, but there will be a period of time when they try to make contact before they leave.
We just need to survive a little bit longer.
