Authors: Gretchen McNeil
Silence again. Only this time there was less aggression in the atmosphere. Something about T.J.’s argument had struck a chord, though it was the part he never spoke out loud. They could search the house. And if they found no one, at least they’d know the truth: one of them was the killer.
“We all agree? We’ll search the house?”
No one spoke, but four heads slowly nodded.
“Good.” T.J. pushed his chair back from the table. “We should split up. It’ll go faster.”
“Yeah, ’cause that always ends so well,” Kumiko said.
“I think we should stick together,” Meg said.
T.J. turned and looked at her. “Yeah?”
Meg shrugged. “Safety in numbers.” And easier to keep an eye on everyone.
“Okay,” T.J. said. “Let’s start at the bottom and move up.”
MEG WAS SCARED, TERRIFIED BEYOND THE POINT
where she could even process her fear, and she felt as if all the familiar things in her life, the very relationships by which she defined herself, were toppling one by one.
The mood was somber as the five of them moved through the ground floor. T.J. and Gunner took a quick walk through the covered patio with the lantern. The blue glow of its light danced through the dining room windows as the boys trudged down both sides of the patio. Meg heard the sucking sound of the cooler opening and crashing closed, then the light bounced back in through the door.
“Clear,” Gunner said.
No one spoke.
They shuffled through the kitchen, taking cursory glances into the pantry and broom closets before moving into the living room. Meg and Kumiko carried the candlesticks from the dining room table. There were only two that were still burning, and their flickering, changeable light was barely strong enough to illuminate the length of the room, merely an eight-foot radius around them. They all bunched together as they examined the bookcases and entertainment center slowly, like it was some kind of screwed-up ten-legged race. They examined every corner, and even though there wasn’t a feasible hiding place in the L-shaped room, someone glanced under every table and behind every sofa … just in case.
The girls lingered outside in the hallway as T.J. and Gunner did a once-around of the study. It was incredibly creepy standing in that big, white house lit only by a pair of candles. Meg could see walls and floor, but the high ceilings were invisible in the blackness. Anyone could have been lurking and Meg wouldn’t see them. A sudden image flashed before Meg’s eyes. Claire Hicks, with her stringy black hair hanging lank in front of her face, those dark eyes staring out at you, just daring you to come closer.
Yeah, maybe the lack of visibility was a good thing. If she caught sight of a dead girl squatting in the corner of the foyer she’d probably die of fright. And with a body wrapped in a sheet lying just feet from them, and the once pristine walls of the foyer now marred with five red slash marks, it wasn’t as if Meg was dying for a front-row view of any of it.
“All clear,” Gunner said, as he and T.J. emerged from the study. The lantern illuminated more of the hall, though Meg still refused to turn her eyes toward the foyer.
“Then it’s just the upper floors,” T.J. said. He moved to the foot of the stairs and gazed up into the black abyss of the tower.
As the five of them stared into the still darkness, Meg almost regretted her decision to search the house. She wanted to find a room, lock the door, and not leave until morning. At least in the light of day she could see what might be coming for her, instead of the gloominess of that strange, isolated house.
At the second-floor landing, T.J. turned and faced them. “Maybe we should do the garret first? It’ll only take a minute and then we can concentrate on the second floor.”
Kumiko pursed her lips. “But if someone’s hiding on the second floor they could sneak out.”
“We’ll leave someone on the stairs,” T.J. suggested. “To keep watch.”
“Fine.”
“I’ll stay.” Minnie grabbed the lantern from T.J.’s hand. “I don’t want to go up there.”
Meg and T.J. glanced at each other. Was Minnie really the best choice to keep watch? “Guns,” T.J. said, nudging his friend. “Stay here with her, okay?”
Gunner looked to Kumiko for approval. She gave a slight nod of her head. “Cool,” he said.
It was funny how much Meg’s feelings about that room had changed in just twenty-four hours. When T.J. had led her and Minnie up there the first time, she’d felt such a thrill of anticipation. It was a storybook moment, the princess’s tower room, all dripping with romance and white gauze curtains. Now ascending the stairs made her sick to her stomach, and the garret with its single staircase felt more like a prison than an escape.
The room looked much as Meg remembered. If Minnie had actually spent any time up there “sleeping” she certainly hadn’t bothered to put either of the mattresses back on their frames first. Their clothes and personal belongings were still strewn everywhere, blanketing the room like oversized confetti. But Meg’s eye was immediately drawn to two things that were completely out of place. On the chair in the corner sat her diary, which she knew damn well hadn’t been there the last time she was in the room. And on the dresser, Claire’s photo stood upright on its kickstand, not flat against the wood as Meg had left it.
“What the hell happened here?” Kumiko said. She was the last to poke her head through the floor.
Meg dropped her voice. “Minnie was looking for something.”
“Her personality?”
Meg bristled. “Hey. She’s my friend.”
Even in the candlelight, Meg could see Kumiko roll her eyes. “Could have fooled me.”
Kumiko’s constant snark was finally getting on Meg’s nerves. “Not that I need to defend her, but Minnie’s usually not like this, okay? You can go ask your new boyfriend. He was in love with her, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“Whatever. That girl is off the rails.”
“You might be too if someone stole your meds.”
T.J. opened the door of the wardrobe, then checked behind the floor-length mirror. “Look, we’re all under a lot of stress, okay? Nobody’s exactly at their best right now.” He moved to one of the beds and checked beneath its displaced mattress. “Let’s just finish the search.”
Meg and Kumiko waited in silence as T.J. checked under the other bed. Finding nothing, they slowly tramped back down the stairs.
“All clear?” Gunner asked. He was standing as far away from Minnie as the landing would allow.
“Yep.” T.J. started down the stairs, lifting the lantern from Minnie’s hand as he passed her. “Just the second floor now.”
It was like a choose-your-own-adventure book. Six doors opened onto the landing: five bedrooms and a bathroom. On the left, the master suite, which took up one whole corner of the second floor. Then three doors that opened straight onto the landing—south-facing bedrooms, one with Ben’s body and one that Nathan and Kenny had shared, with an adjoining bathroom between them. And at the far end of the hall, two more rooms that faced the west and north sides of the house, respectively.
“How should we do this?” Meg asked.
“Same as upstairs,” T.J. said. “Someone can wait on the stairs, the rest will check the rooms. Sound good?”
Everyone murmured their assent.
“Good,” T.J. said. He started toward the master suite. “Why don’t I start—”
“I’ll do Ben’s room,” Minnie interrupted. Without looking Meg in the eye, Minnie shoved the lantern in her hand and marched through the door.
“Guess we’ll start here,” Kumiko said.
Meg had a moment of shock when she realized Minnie was volunteering to go back into the room where her new crush was lying dead. She handed the lantern to T.J., then she hurried after her. “Minnie, wait.”
Minnie stood on the other side of the bed at the spot where they’d left Ben’s body. Meg’s eye drifted to the floor. She saw Ben’s feet lying where he’d been for hours. Meg imagined how she’d feel if it was T.J. lying there, and shuddered.
“There’s no one here,” Minnie said without being asked.
Meg bent down to check under the bed. “Did you check—”
“Yes!” Minnie snapped.
“Sorry, I just thought …”
“I can think too, you know. You don’t always have to be the smart one.”
“All right, all right.” Meg straightened up. “How about the closet?”
“Go ahead.”
Minnie stood still while Meg turned to the closet. She opened the door slowly, not quite sure what she expected to see. But all she found was Ben’s duffel bag on the floor. The rest was empty.
Minnie grabbed her by the arm before she even had a chance to close the door. “Let’s get out of here.”
Kumiko and Gunner came through the adjoining bathroom door.
“All clear?” Gunner asked.
“Yeah,” Meg said. Except for the dead body on the floor, of course.
They filed back into the hallway.
“Okay,” T.J. said, trading the lantern for the candle Gunner held. “Meg and I will search the master bedroom, K and Minnie can check the other two, and Guns, you watch the stairs.” He didn’t wait for approval this time but grabbed Meg’s free hand and ushered her into the master suite.
“Whose room is this?” she asked.
T.J. walked across the room to the dresser. “Vivian’s.”
“Shocking.” It figured that Vivian would requisition the biggest, nicest room in the house, and probably feel as though she deserved it. Pain-in-the-ass know-it-all.
Meg caught her breath. Vivian was dead. She’d slept in that bed last night and now she was lying under a tarp on a rocky beach with a branch sticking through her chest. And Meg could be next. Or Minnie. Or T.J. The panic welled up in her again. They had to get out of there. Had to.
“You okay?” T.J. asked.
Meg shook herself. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You sure? Did you hear what I said?”
“Um … no.”
T.J. turned to the dresser, then the room was suddenly awash in orange light. “More candles,” he said. He lifted a small, three-tiered candelabra and handed it to her, flashing his dimpled smile. “At least we can see now.”
If White Rock House hadn’t held such horror for Meg, she might actually have liked the master bedroom. It had a cozy, lived-in, bed-and-breakfast feel about it. Large windows on two walls were covered in heavy damask curtains, tied back with braided tassels. The king-size bed was about the biggest Meg had ever seen, with a fully draped canopy and quilted headboard.
A large fireplace took up most of the northern wall, with a duo of overstuffed, heavily pillowed armchairs in front of it. Meg could picture herself curled up before a roaring fire, book in hand, while the storm lashed at the windows outside. It was a lovely picture, marred by the memory of five red slash marks on the wall downstairs and the corresponding body count.
T.J. started with the wall of closets on the far side of the room, so Meg headed for the bathroom, which opened onto the bedroom through wide double doors. She swore it was bigger than her bedroom at home. An enormous spa tub sat in the middle of the tiled floor, with actual steps built around it. The shower was a huge glass cage, big enough for a whole family to shower together. And there were his and hers sinks on either side of the entry. Ah, rich people.
“Anything?” T.J. called out from the other room.
Meg swept her candelabra around. “Nope.” Not that there was anywhere to hide in the open, tiled space. She had just turned to leave when something shiny caught her eye.
Normally she wouldn’t have thought twice about a shiny, metallic object in a bathroom, except this was in the garbage bin. Just a small, plastic can with some wadded-up paper shoved into it, but something had glistened in the candlelight as Meg swept past. She set the candelabra on the counter, crouched down, and pulled away the crumpled paper.
Beneath it was a pair of keys.
The paper in one hand, Meg carefully lifted the metal key ring out of the garbage. She recognized the emblem on the key right away. It matched the markings on the pilot’s wheel. A Grand Alaskan Trawler.
For the first time in hours, Meg felt a spark of hope. They had a way off the island.
The killer must have stashed the keys someplace where he thought no one would find them—in the garbage can in the room of a dead girl. The keys had clearly been hidden in the garbage can, and if it hadn’t been for the fact that Meg was carrying a bunch of candles with dancing, flickering light, she might never have caught sight of them under the wadded-up paper.
Paper. Not toilet paper, but thick, lined parchment.
It took Meg a moment realize what it was. She carefully uncrinkled the page and immediate saw the familiar handwriting.
The missing page from Claire’s diary.
“T.J.!” she yelled. “T.J., I found—”
But her words were lost as the blast of a gunshot rang out from the hall.
MEG SHOVED THE KEYS AND DIARY PAGE INTO
her pocket and dashed into the bedroom. T.J. stood blocking the door.
“Oh my God,” he said.
“What?” She pushed his arm aside, then dug her fingers into his sweater as she saw the body crumpled on the floor. Gunner. His eyes wide open, a single gunshot wound to the forehead, with a thick trail of blood oozing down, arching slightly over his nose.
“Oh my God.” Meg’s voice was barely more than a whisper. Beneath her hand, she could feel T.J. trembling.
“Gunner!” Kumiko ran down the hall and collapsed at the side of the body. She had the presence of mind to feel for a pulse, and judging by the sob, Meg guessed he was already dead.
“Dammit,” T.J. said, his voice barely above a whisper. Meg looked up at him and saw a wave of pain wash over his face. His best friend was dead.
Meg pulled her eyes away from T.J., desperately searching for Minnie. There was a killer in the house, someone who was hunting them down, and Meg needed to protect Minnie as best she could.
Minnie stood at the end of the hall. She held her candle below her face and Meg could see her features clearly enough. No pain, no fear. Just nothing.
Did she do it? Did she kill Gunner?
Meg shook herself. She’d known Minnie since they were thirteen. With or without her meds, Minnie was not a killer. Meg couldn’t even entertain the idea.