Now the nightmare is real. Crashing through the underbrush in a blind panic, not remembering where the trail is, the swamp sucking at me like a breathing monster, trying to bring me down. He’s behind me, panting, not yelling, just running, and I know my head start is going to dissolve.
The cover of the trees helps. He can’t see me. I run as quietly as I can, but it’s hard not to make noise in a swamp. Things snap and rustle, and I hear him change direction and come after me again.
I burst through a thicket. Brambles tear at my skin. I push through, fall, get up, run around a tree, and almost bump into Nate.
He jumps and catches me. “What are you doing?” he practically shouts.
“Shhh!” I start to sob.
“Gracie, what’s going on? I followed you from the ferry, and let Shay know. I just want to talk to you, I’ve been looking…”
“Let her go, Nate.”
Jeff stands with the shovel. Casually. Dead-eyed.
“What are you talking about, Jeff? Gracie…”
“I know about you,” Jeff says. “When you reappeared on the island, I looked you up. Your life played out just the way I thought it would.”
“He killed Billy,” I tell my father. “And Hank Hobbs.”
“You killed Billy? What? Why? You hardly knew him!”
“Didn’t you suspect it?” Jeff asks. “Come on, Nate. Did you really think he just disappeared?”
“Yes!”
“I don’t believe you. You knew I did it and you walked away, with money in your pocket and the girl, right? You know what it looks like? It looks like you were an accessory. I can say you even helped me hide the body, and who’s going to doubt me?”
“What do you want, Jeff?” Nate asks. I hear him swallow. He’s just beginning to understand what he’s walked in on.
“I want you to let her go and walk away. Find another one of your identities and get lost. Get lost for good.”
“She’s my daughter.”
“Yeah, that meant so much to you.”
I feel Nate’s fingers loosen on my arm. Feel his muscles relax.
And then a strange thing happens, stranger than maybe anything that’s ever happened to me, and that’s saying a lot. I know what he’s going to do before he does it. And it isn’t because I sense it, it isn’t a psychic thing. It’s a connection. One I didn’t even realize we had.
So I move when he moves. I bend my knees just as he pushes me down. I tuck and roll as he catapults forward and slams Jeff Ferris with a fist on the side of the head, a blow I can hear, knuckles against skull, and then kicks him somewhere in his midsection and pushes him down.
But Jeff grabs his legs and yanks, and Nate topples. They grapple in the mud. I hear the blows and hear my father grunt.
I crawl toward the shovel. I stand, but I’m weaving, and I can’t get a good shot at Jeff. I can’t imagine I can slow him down. They are charged with adrenaline, and I see Jeff’s fingers tighten on Nate’s throat.
I feel a hand on my shoulder. I haven’t even heard him come up.
“No need for that, Gracie.” Joe’s voice is calm. It’s easier to be calm when you’re holding a gun. “Jeff, get up. It’s over.”