Billie regretted promising to show Miles the tarp as soon as the door opened. She regretted it because she knew Diana was miserable. Her heels were ruined, and the second the wind hit, Diana’s hair turned into an out-of-control tornado of curls.
They ran towards the lake, then along the path to the kayak storage shed. Lightning flashed and thunder cracked above them, and Billie jumped every time. Usually she loved thunderstorms, but inside, next to a fire, drinking a glass of wine.
She stumbled and her foot sunk into a deep puddle. She yanked it out, balancing against Diana. Miles was ahead of them, his flashlight bobbing through the night.
“We have to keep up with him, Bils. He could be disposing of evidence.”
“Oh, for crying out loud. He’s not a killer.”
Diana didn’t say anything else. Billie yelped as thunder boomed overhead. The rain came at her sideways and stung her face. They made it to the kayak storage area, and Billie pointed out the canvas tarp. They shook water off it, then Miles gathered it up.
“Okay, lead the way.” Miles gestured toward the lodge.
Billie took Di’s arm and marched down the trail, keeping their distance from Miles.
“Do you remember which van he was near?”
“No, do you?” Diana asked.
“No.” Billie wiped the rain from her eyes. It poured down her face in rivulets.
“Crap. He’s going to think we’re doing it on purpose.”
As they approached the van, Miles waved the group on the porch over. Richard was with them; Billie did a double-take.
“What are you doing here?”
“Fay made me.” He made a face and shouted to be heard over the rain and thunder. “I was fine sitting by the fire.”
Fay was the only one with a raincoat, and Claudia looked like a thundercloud herself.
“Come on, let’s do this before we drown,” Claudia said. “Where is he?”
Billie looked at Diana, and they shuffled around with the flashlights. Billie stumbled over a planter and fell into a puddle.
“This is ridiculous!” Diana announced. “At this rate, Tiny will float down river and we won’t have to worry.”
“There!” Billie shone her flashlight against the farthest van, and they spotted a figure beside it.
They reached the body and everyone shone their flashlights on him. The rain washed most of the blood away, but Billie covered her mouth and fought her gorge. Deep gashes cut into Tiny’s neck, gleaming white spine visible deep in the wound. Whoever cut his throat did it so violently he was almost decapitated.
Richard took one look, then stumbled a few feet away and threw up all over the driveway.
“Oh God,” Diana sighed. “Dick, it’s just another dead body, you should be used to them by now!”
“I’m not like you two harbingers of death, forgive me.” He spat onto the grass. “Let’s get him moved, then get in these vans and get out of here!”
“The vans are busted,” Diana said.
“They’re what?”
“Don’t work. Broken. Not able to drive.” Diana directed the beam of light toward the engine, and Richard popped the hood to reveal a tangle of wires.
“I told you so.”
“How did you know they were like this?” Richard asked.
“I’d like to know that, too.” Miles stared at Diana with suspicious eyes.
Diana fished in her pocket, then brought out van keys and handed them to Richard.
“Never mind how.” Richard didn’t want admit he gave Diana keys. “Now how do we get out of here?”
“I have a more pressing question. How are we going to move him?” Billie pointed at Tiny, lying prone on the gravel.
Miles unfolded the tarp, and, with Judd’s help, they laid it beside Tiny.
“Everyone grab the right side of his body and we’ll roll him onto the tarp,” Fay said.
Lightning lit the macabre scene, and Billie shook her head. This was ridiculous. Almost as bad shoving body parts into a duffel bag in Miami. She grabbed one of Tiny’s hamhock-sized arms and, on the count of three, they pulled. Billie struggled to hold onto the dead man’s arm, slick with rain. The tarp filled with water. They pulled hard, and Tiny’s body moved.
His head was left behind.
The minute it separated from his body, Billie screamed. “Stop, stop!” She gestured at Tiny’s head. His body was on the tarp. “We can’t leave it here! Diana, pick it up.”
“Me?”
“You picked up the leg in Miami.”
“A leg is different from a head!”
“How many dead bodies have you touched?” Miles asked incredulously.
“Not important.” Diana shoved her soaked hair out of her eyes. “Miles, you pick it up.”
“Are you kidding me, I’m not touching his head!”
“Judd?”
“Fat chance.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake!” Fay marched over, crouched down and picked up Tiny’s head, set it on his chest and arranged his hands so they cradled it.
“There. Now it won’t fall out. Now everyone grab the tarp and let’s get inside!”
Richard looked at Fay like she just defused a bomb. “We’re putting him in the freezer aren’t we? Jesus, Joe’s gonna make me buy that thing.”
Everyone grabbed a section of the tarp, but even with seven of them, it took a half hour to move him into the lobby. Once inside, it took some convincing to get Brandi and Jenny to help. Serena was curled up on top of the bar’s pool table, drinking tequila and crying.
They struggled into the dining room and through the swinging doors into the kitchen. Diana opened the walk-in freezer and they lugged Tiny inside, wrapping him in the tarp and setting him down next to Pam.
“I really hope we don’t have to store anyone else in here,” Billie sighed.
Everyone shuffled outside, and Billie shut and locked the freezer. The group gathered in the dining room.
“We should get some sleep,” Diana said.
“Where?” Jenny asked.
“We’ll move to the east wing on the second floor, since most of us are already there.” Billie knew she wouldn’t get Diana to move rooms unless they had time to take care of Closet Sidney. “Diana and I will room together, Miles and Judd—”
“No, I’m staying with Judd!” Cassie said.
“I don’t want to stay alone!” Jenny said. “Cassie was my roommate.”
Diana stomped into the kitchen and came out with a paper bag. She wrote everyone’s names down on scraps of paper. “We’ll draw to see who stays with who.” Diana put all the names in the bag. “I kept Judd and Cassie together and Billie and I are already roommates.”
Everyone stared at Diana sullenly, but no one contradicted her. She was covered in mud and dried blood and her hair frizzed out everywhere. She looked like she would kick someone’s ass and come back for seconds.
“I’ll pick,” Fay said.
Billie was glad—no one would accuse Fay of being biased.
“Jenny and I want to room together,” Brandi said. “We’ve worked together before and we trust each other. I’m not sure if I trust anyone else here.” She crossed her arms and Jenny nodded.
Fay sighed. “Fine. Anyone else want to pair up?”
No one did.
“Okay, I’ll pull names then. Since we have an even number, we’ll do two groups of three.” She fished around in the paper bag.
“Okay, Richard, Claudia and . . . Elyse.”
Claudia shrugged. “Fine with me.”
“That leaves me, Miles and Serena. Everyone okay with that?”
Everyone nodded.
Miles looked like he had been thrown into the eighth circle of hell. “I’m going to need some help getting Serena up to the second floor.”
“Let’s get some rest. We’ll all go upstairs together,” Billie said.
Serena, barely conscious, was propped up between Fay and Miles and taken to her room. Miles was stone-faced about bunking with her. Judd and Cassie disappeared into their room, and Richard, who looked like he won the lottery, gleefully headed to his room—the biggest on the floor—with Elyse.
“I wouldn’t trade places with Elyse or Claudia for anything.” Diana watched everyone retreat into their rooms.
“For anything?”
“Maybe if we were about to get our throats slashed. Maybe.”
Billie scrubbed her hair, loofahed every inch of her skin and finally felt clean. Showering by candle light was no easy feat, but at least they were both clean and ready to sleep.
“I think I’ll sleep in sweats and a hoodie. Just in case.”
“We don’t have to worry.” Diana gestured with a flourish toward the closet. “We’re protected, remember?”
“Well, everyone else isn’t. I’m going to keep my Converse near my bed, too, in case we have to make a quick getaway. Do you want to borrow my Vans?”
“Bils, I know this looks like a sneakers situation to you, but I won’t be caught dead in those clunky shoes. I mean that literally.”
Billie laughed. It felt nice to laugh. She got under the covers. The rain tapped against the window. The thunder and lightning lessened, but the rain fell like there was no tomorrow. Maybe there wouldn’t be. Billie blew out the candles.
“How are we going to get out of here in the morning? The vans don’t work, and the phones are down . . . do you think we can walk out?”
“I don’t care if I have to sail down that creek on a raft, we’re leaving in the morning.” Diana turned off her flashlight.
Billie lay there, listening to the wind buffet the windows.
“Diana?”
“Hmm?”
“Do you think it’d be safer if we stayed together? That way, if a crazy axe murderer tries to get in here, we can protect each other.”
“Good idea.” Diana snapped the light back on. “I tried to move the beds together when you were in the shower. Joe has those bolted down, too. God knows what he thinks people are going to do, walk out with them tied to their backs?”
Billie hopped out of bed and into Diana’s double bed, snuggling down into the covers.
“You don’t have to worry about axe murderers this time, Bils. Closet Sidney hasn’t forgotten. He’ll protect you, even though you mock him.”
“Why do you think this wacko killed Tiny? And how? I mean, he was huge.”
“Huge, but no match for a butcher knife. And I’ve been thinking about why. The vans were all busted—maybe Tiny caught the killer messing with them.”
“So a victim of necessity rather than any ulterior motive.”
“Miles has great arms, he could definitely have stabbed Tiny like that.”
“I don’t know what you have against him all of a sudden. I can’t picture Miles killing anyone. He had no reason to kill Pam.”
“That you know of. I know you still think it’s Richard. But please, Bils, he would never be able to stab Tiny. He loses his lunch too easily.”
“I just want to get out of here. I’m tired of blood and bodies and stuff. I just wanted to take some pictures and work on a movie.”
She turned over toward the window and tucked a hand under the pillow. Diana turned over and rested her head in the crook of Billie’s neck.
“It’s because it’s a slasher film. If this was a romantic drama, this shit never would’ve happened.”
“You’ll wake me up if the killer tries to get you?” Billie asked sleepily.
“I’ll scream so loud you’ll think Sidney proposed.”
The next day dawned bright and clear. The lake had spilled over its banks and crept up to the kayak storage shed.
Diana opened the curtains for the light; she hoped the electricity wasn’t out for an extended period. She wouldn’t think about it. They would escape before it became a problem.
She walked onto the balcony, her heart lifting. Surely either the landslide would be discovered and the road cleared or the phone lines repaired today. They would get out and put this nightmare behind them.
First, Diana needed a cup of coffee. Maybe two or three cups.
A flock of birds took flight from the edge of the lake. It was pretty here, but didn’t make up for being so far from civilization. Or that the same isolation made this place a murderer’s killing jar.
As she watched the birds, Miles came into view, jogging around the edge of the lake.
Diana grabbed the balcony railing.
He wasn’t wearing a shirt; the early morning light gilded the hard planes and angles of his bare chest and stomach. She took a deep breath. Miles’ abs were impressive. Diana closed her eyes.
When she opened them, Miles was kneeling by the edge of the lake, pouring water from his cupped hands over his head. She swallowed.
What a shame he was a killer. No one else would be confident—or crazy—enough to go into the woods alone. Diana turned her back on Miles’ morning ritual—well, after one last peek—and returned to the room, shutting and locking the door. Best not to tempt fate.
Billie was curled up in the middle of their bed, clutching a pillow, her auburn hair tangled around her shoulders. Smiling, Diana tucked the blanket under her chin. Poor Bils; she was up late, fretting. Diana would let her sleep, go downstairs and grab her a cup of tea. She’d lock the door, and, between the locked door and Closet Sidney, Billie would be safe. Besides, Miles was down at the lake.
She dressed quickly, pulled her hair up and hurried downstairs.
No one was in the dining room, so she continued into the kitchen, and, giving the stove a wide berth, rummaged through Pam’s supplies, feeling vaguely guilty, and found Sterno. It took three cupboards to find a camp-style coffee pot and a stove-top tea pot. She popped the Sterno cans open, used a kitchen match to light them, and set the filled pots on the stands above the burning Sterno.
Rooting through the kitchen, she discovered camping cookware and sorted out potentially useful things—if the power stayed off, they would come in handy—including an old-fashioned fire-place toaster. Billie would like toast with her tea. Diana found jam, honey and a platter that would serve as a breakfast tray.
She was humming to herself, arranging everything and feeling marvelously domestic, when she realized someone was behind her.
Diana froze, scarcely daring to breathe. The heat radiated from his body as he bent over her, his breath caressing her throat. She trembled.
“What is going on in that head of yours?” His voice was a low, basso rumble she felt in the pit of her stomach—and other places. “I come in here, and you’re singing like Suzy Homemaker, looking like butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth.” He wound her ponytail around his hand.
Her heart hammered against her ribs; the smell of his sweat and cologne made her head swim. She swayed; he caught her around the waist, bracing her against his chest.
“When I met you, I never dreamed what was hiding behind that smile. Who sings the morning after two people are murdered, except a murderer?”
She stiffened. “Miles, if you don’t let me go, I will scream. Loudly and at length.”
She threw an elbow into his gut and felt the shock down to her fingertips. She shook her hand and stomped on his instep.
He released her, and she snatched a paring knife from the draining board. It was only two inches, but if he got closer, she would go for his eyes. She pressed her back to the sink.
“Stay away from me, you murdering asshole!”
“You’re not going to lay the blame on me, when you or your friend have discovered every body!”
She narrowed her eyes. “What are you implying about Billie? And don’t tell me you didn’t have a motive to attack Jordyn.”
“Jordyn was a bitch to everyone on set, not just me. And what are you doing all alone, after you insisted everyone stick together? Looks suspicious!”
“How was your run this morning, Miles?” she asked sweetly.
His eyes widened. “Have you been stalking me?”
“You wish!”
“Don’t follow me.” He ran his hands through his damp—and adorable, damn him—curls. “Stay away from me.” With one last bewildered look, he stormed out of the kitchen.
Diana let out a long, shaky sigh.
The bastard still wasn’t wearing a shirt.
She wouldn’t be caught unarmed again. Diana slipped the paring knife into her skirt pocket. It was better than nothing. She needed fresh air; Miles’ cologne clung to her. Still shaking, she propped the fire door open and went outside.
She was sorry she did.
Something the size and shape of a human being was strung up in the trees. She couldn’t tell who it was; it was too far away.
In fact, it might not be anything.
“Nope.” She stepped back inside and closed the door. The coffee percolated; it smelled good. Coffee was what she needed. Still avoiding the stove, she crossed the kitchen. Her hands shook so hard it took three tries to open the cupboard. She grabbed a coffee cup two-handed, then promptly dropped it. It shattered, the sound loud in the empty kitchen.
Then it occurred to her. “What if they’re still alive?”
She ran to the back door, threw it open and charged across the open field between the lodge and the treeline, struggling through the ankle-deep mud. She had a stitch in her side and sucked air, her breath whistling in her throat.
His face was purple, his eyes bulging, his tongue protruding from his lips. Cords were wrapped around his throat and he was suspended a foot above the ground.
“This isn’t fucking happening.” She had to get him down. She knew he was dead, but something in her hindbrain told her to get him down. A cord bit deep into the flesh of his throat. She stumbled toward him—and tripped. Again.
She landed on another body, covered in blood and filth, lying in a pool of congealing blood, half sunk in the mud and concealed in the high grass. Blood and dirt matted the hair and coated the face and deep, angry wounds marred the throat and torso. Flies buzzed. Diana tottered to her feet. She was covered in blood again; it was her thing on this trip.
Hands bloody and shaking, she stood on tiptoe and clawed at the cord imbedded in his neck. She pawed at her skirt pocket for the knife, pulled it out and hacked at the cord. The blade tore his flesh, but he didn’t bleed. She sawed at the cord, sliced her fingers, pulled it, shook it. It snapped, and he dropped gracelessly to the ground. Crouching, she peeled the sound cord out of the ugly indentation in his throat, then dropped it like it burned her.
“Oh, Judd,” she whispered, brushing his hair out of his eyes. Diana drew his eyelids down. She drew a shuddering breath, tears running down her cheeks.
Closing Cassie’s eyes was harder. She looked scared, and Diana couldn’t do anything about it, except close her eyes, and it didn’t help much. She pushed her tangled hair back from her face and pulled Cassie’s skirt down from around her waist. There was a bloody trail through the mud where someone grabbed her by the ankles and drug her.
“I don’t want to do this anymore,” Diana told Cassie. “I’m done, okay? Can this be a bad dream?”
Cassie didn’t answer.
“Jesus, the freezer is gonna be full.”
Diana lurched toward the lodge.