T.J. WHIRLED. HIS BODY SEEMED TO PIVOT OF ITS own accord, as if the force of the bullet striking him in the chest swung his entire being around. He staggered away from Meg, just a few limping steps, with his back to her. She heard him groan, then he collapsed to his knees and flopped face-first onto the white tile floor.
Meg stood frozen. She still held the gun in both hands, her arms outstretched. Her whole body felt tense, like every single muscle was engaged. Minnie’s shrieks seemed to come from far away, muffled and dampened. All Meg could hear was the pounding of her own heart.
She’d shot him. She’d shot the boy she’d been in love with for as long as she could remember.
You had to, Meg told herself. He killed everyone. He would have killed you, too.
Meg forced herself to believe it. She had no choice.
“You …,” Minnie panted. “You shot him.”
“Yeah.”
“Why did you shoot him?”
“I had to.” She did, didn’t she? She was protecting Minnie, protecting herself. She had to shoot T.J. She didn’t have a choice. Right?
“But …” Minnie let the lantern drop to the floor. “But …” She took several steps toward T.J.’s motionless body before Meg stopped her.
“We have to get out of here.”
Minnie’s eyes never left T.J.’s body. “Why did you shoot him?”
“Minnie!” Meg grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her away from T.J. “We have to get off this island. Now.”
Minnie’s eyes were huge, disbelieving. “You killed him. You killed Teej.”
Meg glanced at T.J.’s body. She’d closed her eyes the instant she squeezed the trigger and had no idea where she’d shot him. If he was dead, then they didn’t have anything to worry about. If he wasn’t and was just lying there playing possum, they needed to get down to the boathouse as fast as they could. Whatever Minnie’s damage, it could wait until they were safely off the island.
“Come on.” Meg grabbed the lantern off the floor and shoved it in Minnie’s hands. “We need to get out of here. Now.”
“But …”
Meg didn’t wait for Minnie to argue, just grabbed her hand and dragged her out of the foyer. Meg rushed through the living room and kitchen to the back door. She wasn’t going to risk getting barbecued like Kumiko, so she kicked at the door with her foot TV-cop-style, until the aging frame splintered and the door swung open.
Once outside, the night seemed even darker. In the black woods behind White Rock House, there were no white walls for the feeble light of the lantern to bounce off. Meg felt small and alone. And paranoid. Every noise sent a wave of panic through her. A crackling twig, the rustling of leaves as the wind gusted through the trees. She was positive someone was following them.
Meg pushed the panic away. T.J. wasn’t going to be following them, and there was no one else on the island. She just had to get to the boat and figure out how to get the engine started. She’d deal with piloting the thing later. Even being adrift in the channel was better than being stuck on that island.
At least the rain had stopped. As the trees thinned out at the bottom of the hill, Meg could see a dozen stars in the sky between gaps in the thinning cloud cover. It was the first time she’d seen a light in the sky since before they’d boarded the ferry in Mukilteo. It gave her hope.
The wooden walkways that led to the boathouse were still damp, but the slippery layer of water that coated their surfaces earlier in the day had evaporated. Even in the darkness, Meg felt more confident. One hand on Minnie, one hand grasping the set of keys. They were going to make it. They were going to survive.
She kept forcing images of T.J. out of her mind. His dimples when he smiled at her. His excitement when he told her they’d both be going to college in LA. The feeling of his callused hands holding hers, his strong arm around her back pulling her body into his, his full, soft lips pressed desperately against her own.
“STOP IT!” Meg said out loud.
Minnie stopped. “What?”
“Nothing.” Meg nudged her on. “Almost there.”
The last thing she wanted to do right now was think about what a complete and total idiot she’d been. T.J. Fletcher in love with her? Hell no. He’d just been using her, and she’d been pathetic enough to fall for it because he’d told her exactly what she wanted to hear. Now she was his accomplice. He used her feelings for him to forward his own plans for murder.
His plans. And what were they exactly? Meg winced. T.J. had been right: it was the only part that didn’t make sense. Why? Why had he killed all those people? Was there some relationship between him and Claire that no one knew about? She found that hard to believe, and yet it had to be something personal. These murders and the way they’d been brought about were absolutely 100 percent personal.
Meg felt the tears well up in her eyes. She’d loved him and he’d just been using her.
Once again, she forced herself to focus. It had to make sense somehow, she was just missing something. Not that it mattered. All she needed to think about now was getting them off the damn island.
With the exception of the tarp that now covered Vivian’s body, the boathouse was exactly as she’d left it. The lantern illuminated enough of the wooden structure to show her that the boat seemed to be there and intact. A good sign, since T.J. had managed to sabotage everything else in the house. The boarding gate was still open, and Meg hopped on board, then grabbed the lantern from Minnie’s hand and helped her step across the gap onto the deck.
“Okay,” Meg said. “This way.” She ducked into the pilothouse and rested the lantern and the gun on the wooden console next to the helm. “We just need to figure out where the ignition is and we’ll be home free.”
Minnie stood silently in the doorway, her arms wrapped tightly across her body—one up around her shoulder, one around her waist. Meg couldn’t tell if she was cold or in shock.
“Don’t worry, Mins,” she said, trying to sound confident. “We’re almost out of here.” Meg fished the keys out of her pocket. They clattered in her hand as she scanned the control panel for anything that looked like a key ignition. She kept talking, more to calm her own nerves than Minnie’s, but anything was better than the wretched silence. “We’ll be home before you know it. And the police will take care of everything. We’re going to make it, Mins. We’re going to be—”
“He said it was you.”
Meg looked up from the control panel. Minnie stood in the doorway of the pilothouse, the gun grasped in both hands, pointed straight at Meg. She shook visibly, and even in the dim light, Meg could see that Minnie had broken out in a full sweat.
“He said it was you,” Minnie repeated. “That you’d killed everyone.”
“T.J.?”
“He said you were jealous of me. That’s why you pretended to be my friend. That’s why you were leaving me to go to LA.”
Meg was exasperated. Totally not the time for this conversation. “Minnie, we’ve talked about this.”
“He said you’d try to kill me.”
“Minnie!” Meg wasn’t sure if the adrenaline of firing a gun had gone to her head or not, but suddenly her anger trumped the weapon pointed directly at her chest. “Minnie, when have I ever done anything but help you? Always. I’ve been there. Usually the only one there.”
Minnie wasn’t listening. “Then he made me read your diary. And I saw …” Her voice choked off with a sob.
“T.J. and me,” Meg said, completing the thought. “I know. I should have told you the truth but I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“You loved him,” Minnie said simply.
“Yes.”
“And you shot him.”
The pain of that reality hit Meg afresh. Her body tensed and her heart ached. “Yes.”
Minnie sucked in an erratic breath. “I’m so sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry.”
A creepy feeling trickled down Meg’s neck, a cross between fear and disbelief. “Sorry because you’re about to shoot me?”
“This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have made us come here. And I shouldn’t have listened to him.”
“Mins, it’s okay. T.J. had us all fooled.”
Minnie lowered the gun. “Not T.J.”
Meg’s mouth went dry. Not T.J.? “Minnie, what the hell are you talking about?”
“It wasn’t T.J.,” Minnie said, her voice calm and even. “The killer is—”
There was a click, followed by a rush of air. Then a crunch, like a knife passing through bone, a flash of metal followed by a splattering of blood as something ripped through the pale white skin of Minnie’s throat.
Minnie’s eyes bulged. She dropped the gun and both of her hands flew to her throat, clawing at the object that protruded from her neck.
“Mins!”
Meg could see it clear as day, glistening wet and lethal in the dying light. It was an arrow, thick and metallic, just like the one that had killed Nathan. Minnie’s eyes met Meg’s; Meg could see the disbelief reflected there. Minnie opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out, only a thick stream of blood that gushed over her lips and down her chin.
Minnie staggered toward Meg before her feet gave way and she lost all control, pitching forward into Meg’s arms. Meg tried to ease her onto the floor as Minnie’s body shuddered, her eyes wild with fear and horror.
“Mins, oh my God. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” What was she supposed to do? Pull the arrow out? Mouth-to-mouth?
Minnie sputtered and gagged, spitting blood as she tried to form words. Her arms flailed, pulling at Meg. Her eyes pleaded for help.
“Minnie? Minnie?” Oh my God, what could she do? Tears welled up in her eyes. There was no one to call, no one to save them. They were so close to safety. Too close for it to all end now. “Mins, stay with me!”
Then Minnie’s entire body seized up. She made a deep gurgling sound, as if her lungs were inhaling a gallon of blood. Her eyes rolled back in her head and blood poured out of her mouth. Minnie’s limbs went stiff and her body convulsed so violently Meg could barely keep her hands on Minnie’s shoulders. She kicked at the deck of the ship, arching her body forward, then she shuddered and fell lifeless in Meg’s arms.
Meg choked back a sob, but she barely had time to process the fact that her best friend was dead.
“Sad way to go,” a voice said. “Drowning in your own blood can’t be pleasant.”
Meg swallowed her grief as she rose to her feet. She knew that voice. But it was impossible. It couldn’t be.
She turned and saw a bleached-blond head standing on the floor of the boathouse, smiling at her.
Ben.