“Why?” Cici asked. “Why would you do that?”
“Why wouldn’t we?” Marlowe’s defensive answer was so fast that Cici stepped back. “I mean, you’re all here!” Marlowe stepped forward forcefully. “The same reason you’re here, well, that’s why we’re here!”
“We were invited.” Cici crossed her arms and cocked a hip. The pendulum of her ponytail swung wide.
“Yeah!” Jalen seconded her. He gestured to the others. “We’re influencers.”
“I’m not mad,” Shelley chimed in, dipping into her airy yoga-app voice again. “I am just wondering, Plum, what you thought would happen when you got here. Like if it was a normal festival and stuff.”
“I thought . . .” Plum shrugged. “I thought no one would notice me. Like always.”
On the beach in front of her, Marlowe turned to face Plum, shock on her face.
Before her friend could say anything affirming, Plum plowed on. “We thought that it would be crowded! There was supposed to be the villa, plus the extension rooms, remember? The yurts, the yachts.”
“Someone would have noticed you’re nobody,” Cici said. “When you got to the festival.”
“Not if the festival had been everything they’d said,” Sofia answered. She somehow looked fierce, despite the chicken in her arms. It reminded Plum of the first day they’d met. How Sofia had been ready to take on the bullies.
“Anyway, none of that matters now, does it?” Jalen asked. “We have to figure out what to do next. Does anyone have someone who’s expecting you to check in? Because that might trigger someone to send help?”
Shelley held up a hand. “I have some clients who will be expecting to hear from me,” she said. “But not until after the festival.”
“That’s the problem,” Dude said with a sigh. “Every one of us is where we’re supposed to be, and no one will worry.”
“What about the Pyre Signs app?” Cici asked. “Is it working? Do we know anyone looking for our updates?”
Warix shook his head and gave a dark little laugh. His sharky smile wasn’t even remotely cute anymore. Instead it was smug as he punctured their hopes. “Oh, you guys haven’t figured that out yet? Even if it was working, it’s a closed loop. It’s not actually broadcasting. That’s why we haven’t been able to post anything. It’s deliberate isolation.”
“But people clicked like on my post yesterday,” Jude protested, fiddling with his phone.
“They’re all bots,” the gamer explained. “Not one is real. I’d bet you that if we compared posts, we’d see the exact same accounts engaging with us.”
Plum felt a sinking in her chest. She knew the killer was prepared. Had planned and readied themselves for their murder spree. But she kept forgetting the absolutely elaborate steps the killer had had to take to get them all there, to lull them into a false sense of security, and to keep them isolated.
“It’s just like the AI,” Plum said. “All a cover to keep us from suspecting anything. Lulling us.”
“Ah, man. Wadsworth,” Jude said softly, almost like he was grieving the absence of the disembodied voice.
“I want to say something,” Marlowe began hesitantly.
The others turned to her.
“Now you know that we weren’t actually supposed to be here. That we took Peach Winter’s place.”
Sofia nodded.
“So none of us could be the killer,” Marlowe explained. Her hand circled, indicating herself and her two friends. “We’ve been best friends for years. We’re not influencers. The killer can’t be one of us.”
Shelley nodded in agreement.
Cici didn’t look as certain.
Warix laughed mockingly. “Sure. Why don’t we just take your word for it? Why not. Hey, I’m not the killer, either, guys.”
Sofia glowered at him.
Warix held out a hand. “I’m just saying. You telling us who you are, how you got here, why you couldn’t possibly be the killer?” He shook his head. “It means absolutely nothing. For all I know, one of you is the killer. Or all of you are. Maybe you’ve got some grudge against us, and you’re picking us off one by one, just pretending to be nobody special, all part of your cover.”
“No, she’s really Peach Winter’s sister,” Jude piped up, pointing at Plum. “I’ve seen Peach share her picture on Instagram.”
“It doesn’t matter!” Warix yelled. “Serial killers have family, right? It’s always someone there going, Huh, gee, we’ve been neighbors for ten years. I never would have guessed they were killing little old ladies and burying them in the basement!”
“I mean, that is also true,” Jalen agreed. “That’s exactly how it always goes.”
“Ugh!” Cici yelled. “This sun is melting my Etoile makeup. If we’re stuck here, might as well go back to the villa.” She crossed to the table where her bags waited for the boat that wouldn’t be coming. Cici yanked them off the table and began the climb back to the villa.
Shelley, Warix, and Dude followed her.
Jude and Jalen hesitated.
“For what it’s worth,” Jude offered, “I don’t think any of you girls is the killer.” He smiled at them brightly.
“Thanks,” Plum said tiredly.
“Me either,” Jalen offered. Then he lifted his phone under his chin. His voice dropped into profundity. “Statistically speaking,” he announced, “most serial killers are men.”
Without thinking about it or conferring among themselves, Plum and her two best friends took a big step back from Jalen and Jude.
“Sorry,” Plum said. “That was instinctive.”
“No problem,” Jalen said. He turned off his recording app and stowed his phone back in his pocket. “I’m not the killer,” he said with a sigh. “Although that would make one hell of a podcast, wouldn’t it?”