MEG FELT SICK. SHE’D BEEN READING A DEAD classmate’s diary. There had been something familiar about the journal, something Meg couldn’t quite put her finger on, but she’d never imagined it belonged to someone she knew. And not just anyone, but Claire Hicks.
Claire’s diary. Claire’s photo in her room. Why? What was the connection?
The sun was low on the horizon, the daylight, such as it was, rapidly retreating. How long had Meg been reading the diary? Two minutes or two hours, she couldn’t even tell. It was as if time had stopped. The diary had sucked her in and cut her off from the rest of the world.
Meg stared at the black pleather cover. She never should have read past the first page. She felt sacrilegious, almost as if she had betrayed Claire somehow. And it was so sad, so infinitely sad that Claire had no one. She must have been writing about the school she was at before she transferred to Kamiak. Maybe all this drama was why she came to Meg’s school in the first place.
Meg’s heart went out to Claire. She’d been the new girl in school once too. The new girl that no one liked. No one except Minnie. It had been so hard for her to make friends—every time she opened her mouth it was like she was offending someone. She’d learned to just keep her mouth shut.
But at least she had Minnie. Claire had no one.
Claire Hicks. Her photograph and journal both ended up in Meg’s room. No coincidence. Could she somehow be related to what was happening at White Rock House?
Meg got to her feet. She had to find T.J. Now. She had to fill him in about the journal and see if he had any theories about what was going on. She took a step toward the hall, then stopped.
Meg saw something out of the corner of her eye.
Just a movement, a flash of darkness through the rain-smeared windows. Immediately Meg heard a muffled stomping as someone ran up the outside steps to the patio; then the door creaked as it opened and banged shut.
Oh my God. It had to be Nathan or Kenny coming back from the Taylors’ house. They’d found someone, called the police. Finally!
Meg ran into the kitchen. She expected to see one of them tramp into from the patio, dripping wet from the storm outside. But no one was there.
“Nathan?” she called.
There was a moment of agonizing silence, then Meg heard pounding footsteps as someone ran down the side of the house.
“Kenny?” Meg dashed out onto the patio. To the right was the door that led to the backyard. To the left, the patio stretched the length of the kitchen and dining room, then bent sharply as it followed the far side of the house. The footsteps rang out in the distance and Meg could feel their vibrations through the wooden floorboards.
“Guys?” She ran down the patio and around the corner just in time to see a door at the far end closing as someone ducked inside the house.
What the hell? Another way inside the house? Why didn’t they just come into the kitchen? Meg trotted down the side patio toward the door. She passed a dark coat on the ground. It was drenched in rain and flecked with mud and looked as if it had been stripped off and discarded while someone was on the move. Beyond the coat, two rain boots. First the right, then the left, also thrown off by whoever had just passed that way.
Meg stopped abruptly.
What was going on? Someone was clearly sneaking around the house, but why? Meg thought of the red slashes on the wall and of the handrail that had clearly been tampered with. What if she was right? What if they were both intentional?
That would mean someone in the house wasn’t exactly who or what they pretended to be. But who?
Meg never got a chance to answer her own question as a muffled scream pierced the silence of the afternoon.
Meg took off down the patio. The screams continued, coming from inside the house. She pulled the door open, unsure where it would lead or what she would find.
The study. The patio wrapped all the way around the house and opened onto the study off the main staircase. Meg barely registered the large bundle that was Lori’s body, still wrapped in its cocoon behind the desk, as she rocketed through the room. The screams were coming from the foyer. She stumbled through the door into the hall and found Minnie, standing in the middle of the foyer, pointing a finger at the wall.
A third slash.
Meg grabbed Minnie by the shoulders and spun her away from the wall. “What happened?”
“I-I couldn’t sleep,” Minnie said. Her eyes were red and puffy. “So I came downstairs and … I don’t know. I wanted to look outside and maybe see if the guys were back and then I saw … I saw …”
“Did you see anyone?” Meg asked. “Did someone come through here?”
Minnie looked at her, confused. “No, no one’s here.” She looked over Meg’s shoulder toward the study. “Where did you—”
“But someone must have come down the hall,” Meg said. She looked around the foyer. There was no place to hide. No closet doors, no crawl spaces or cupboards. Nothing.
“Oh man,” Gunner said. He and Kumiko stood in the hallway.
“If it means what the first two meant,” Kumiko said. “Then …”
T.J. ran down the stairs. “Who’s missing?”
Meg felt Minnie catch her breath. Oh God. It was Ben.
“NO!” Minnie screamed. She pushed past T.J. and sprinted up the stairs.
T.J. followed close on Minnie’s heels, then Kumiko and Gunner. Meg trailed behind. She didn’t run with the same sense of urgency as the others. Truthfully, she was afraid of what they’d find. Another body, this time Minnie’s new crush.
Meg paused on the landing outside Ben’s room. Everyone else was inside, but Meg waited, terrified of what she’d see. With Minnie’s already fragile state of mind, Meg wasn’t sure she could handle what she’d find in that room. Part of her wanted T.J. or Gunner to deal with Minnie’s imminent breakdown. She wanted to turn around and walk out of that house and never go back.
“NOOOOOO!” Minnie wailed.
Shit.
Minnie’s weeping filled the room as Meg slowly walked through the door. She felt like a condemned prisoner approaching final judgment. Kumiko leaned into Gunner, her face buried in his burly arms, and T.J. stood at the end of the bed gripping the bedpost so fiercely his knuckles shone white.
“Who did this?” Minnie cried. “Who did this?”
On the far side of the bed, Minnie knelt on the floor, cradling Ben’s head in her lap. He lay facedown and all Meg could see of him was his mussed blond hair. His left arm was stretched out toward his backpack on the floor near the window as if he’d been trying to reach it.
Minnie rocked back and forth. “It’s not fair. It’s not fair.”
Meg knelt down beside Minnie and put an arm around her shoulder. Minnie flinched.
“This wasn’t an accident,” Minnie said. It sounded like an accusation.
Despite the panic rising inside her, Meg fought to remain calm. “I didn’t say it was.”
“Someone did this. Someone did this on purpose.”
T.J. cleared his throat. “What happened? I mean …”
“He’s dead,” Minnie screeched. Her eyes flashed. “Murdered.”
Meg shivered as the word filled the room. “Minnie, maybe it was … I don’t know.”
“A mistake? An accident?” Minnie jerked away from her. “Three deaths in a row? Can you really explain that away?”
No. No, she couldn’t. But she also couldn’t admit that fact to Minnie, who was already on the brink of a total meltdown. Minnie sank her head to her chest, nuzzling her forehead against Ben’s blond hair. Meg could feel her sobs.
“Meg,” T.J. said, his voice barely above a whisper. He beckoned her to the other side of the bed. “Come look at this.”
T.J. crouched beside the nightstand. Next to him, a plastic water bottle had been tipped over, spilling its contents on the hardwood floor. T.J. bent to the ground and examined the liquid.
“Do you see what I’m seeing?” he asked.
She got down on her knees to get a closer look at the pooling liquid. The light from the window was dim but there appeared to be small bits of something solid floating in it. Meg sniffed.
“Oh my God,” she said, jerking her head back. “It smells like—”
“Pecan pie,” T.J. said.
Meg sat back on her heels. Someone had deliberately put ground pecans in Ben’s water, just as someone must have deliberately added almonds to the salad. If she’d been hesitant to believe that the deaths on this island weren’t necessarily accidents, that hesitation evaporated in an instant.
She’d been trying to deny it, all day. Perhaps as far back as when she arrived on the island. Something was wrong. Something was off. She should have trusted herself, listened to her gut. And now there was only one logical explanation.
Murder.
Panic welled up inside her. They’d lied to their parents about where they were going. Dear God; no one knew where they were. They could die on that island and no one would ever find them.
She looked at T.J. His brows were hunched low and pinched together above his nose, like he was in pain. He’d been trying to be a leader and keep everyone calm. That’s why he wanted Meg to stay quiet about the damage to the handrail, maintaining the line that everything was just a coincidence. Had he believed it himself? Meg wasn’t sure. All she knew now was that he was scared. Just like everyone else.
He stood suddenly, grabbed her by the shoulders, and lifted her to her feet. “We’re going to be fine, Meg. I promise. I’m sure there’s some logical explanation for all of this.”
More promises. More coincidences. Not this time. They had to face the truth.
“No, there isn’t.” Her voice was shaky but she meant every word. She grabbed T.J.’s hand and led him out of the room. “We need to talk.”