Fifteen

Once they're gone, I get dressed. Then I come down to find Jayla in the great room.

"You're still here," I say.

"I thought no one should be alone. Is that a problem?"

I shake my head. "No, I was hoping you'd stayed." I fold the blankets. "I saw something out there. Or I thought I did. That's why I fell overboard—frantically going after it."

"You saw part of the boat?"

"Worse. Now I need my most rational, no-bullshit friend to tell me I was imagining things."

"You were imagining things."

I give her a look as I sit on the couch.

"What?" she says. "I don't even need to hear what it was. That's how well I know you. If you're questioning it, then you already realize it was that big ol' imagination of yours at play."

When I pull over a pillow, she says, "Well, tell me anyway. What was it? Alien? Shark? The Creature from the Black Lagoon?"

"Sadie," I blurt.

She blinks. "What?"

"I thought I saw Sadie. Dead. Floating in the water."

"Oh, Laney." She moves to sit beside me. "That was flippant of me. So you saw parts of the boat floating around and it made you think you saw Sadie. That must have been awful."

"I saw her before the boat parts. But I had seen the garbage, and I had seen what happened to the canoe and kayak, and I had heard Madison talking about the dead bodies at the bottom of the lake. In that moment, it really did seem to be Sadie's body. Her face. Her hair. But then it disappeared. Which means I was imagining it. Right?"

She leans a shoulder against mine. "You might not have seen parts of the boat yet, but that's what you expected to find. Even if you were making excuses for how the trash got out there, you knew it could mean that the boat sunk. I wouldn't say you hallucinated her. Just that you saw something from the boat, and you mistook it for her."

I nod. "That's why I wasn't going to mention it. Even to Kit."

"Because it seems to confirm the possibility no one wants to hear."

"That Sadie's dead. That she was on that boat when it went down." I gaze out the windows across the room. "We're pretending that's not what happened, but it is. Someone set off small bombs in the kayaks and the canoe. They missed the paddleboard in the rafters. Then they set a larger one on the motorboat. I don't think they meant for us to be killed. They were just cutting off our exits to scare the shit out of us. The motorboat was supposed to explode in the middle of the night. Except Sadie was on it."

"Maybe."

At the doubt in her voice, my shoulders sag with relief. "You think it's possible she wasn't on it. That they pushed the boat out into the lake, where the bomb went off, and she's holed up safe on the island."

"Maybe." Jayla folds her hands on her knee, gazes away from me. "Or maybe I was right the first time."

I pause to figure out what she means. "That Sadie's behind it?"

She looks over. "Doesn't that make more sense than her hiding in the boathouse because she's angry?"

Yes, but that dominoes back to everything else that's happened. Would Sadie blow up all of our boats to trap us here? I want to laugh at the idea—she's not Kit's movie-style ex, cursing the world because I don't have a bunny to boil. She's also not a demolitions expert.

But she could find someone who was and charm him into getting what she needed. And if she didn't intend for anyone to get hurt? Just wreak havoc?

"Jimmy Morton?" Jayla murmurs. "Bianca Ramos?"

In middle school, Sadie read a bicycle-repair manual to sabotage Jimmy's prize BMX bike when he cheated on her. And she used an industrial magnet on Bianca's laptop, because she's the one he cheated with. We thought it was hilarious at the time. Harmless pranks, like when Kit and I put tape on the wheels of all the computer mice in the lab. Or when we stuck USE OTHER DOOR signs on all the school entrances.

Now I realize, in the case of Jimmy's bike, it was pure luck that he didn't get hurt.

"The boats, maybe," I say. "Even the stagings, if she managed to get the security codes from Kit and snuck out here. But Nate?" I shake my head. "That goes too far." I shake it harder. "No, it all goes too far."

"I think she set up that profile for me," Jayla says.

I frown, and then remember what she'd been saying last night. "The dating profile?"

She nods. "She's the one who warned me about it. She called, all hesitant and apologetic and ‘I hate to bring this up, but you should know.' She said someone from our high school friend group found it."

"And she said I did it?"

"Oh, you know Sadie. She's never that obvious. I looked at the profile and… I wanted to be sick. Here I was, trying to come out of the closet, and someone posted a straight dating profile for me on a hookup site with photos that…" Her jaw flexes. "Me in a bikini. Me eating… a hot dog. I know it sounds silly. I wasn't naked or anything."

"They were private photos, ones that suggested you were looking for a hetero hookup."

She nods. "I was humiliated and freaking out, and you know what happens when I get upset like that. I lash out. I called Sadie back, ranting about who the hell would do that, blaming this person and that person. Not that I ever have a shortage of enemies. She asked how you and I were getting along. That was just after we…" She shrugs. "You know."

"Went on an actual date, and it was horrible and awkward and weird?"

"Yeah. After that horrible, awkward weirdness, we weren't exactly hanging out, but you had teachers-college admissions and I had law school admissions, so we were able to pretend we were just terribly busy."

When I don't answer, she says, "Fine. I was able to pretend I was terribly busy. The truth is…" She throws up her hands. "I was flailing, Laney. Still figuring it all out. Did I like girls? Did I like both? Did I like anyone? It was always so easy for you. Everyone thought you'd be the one I could talk to about it, and I couldn't. Instead, we decided to try dating, and that was an unmitigated disaster."

"Back up," I say. "You felt like you couldn't talk to me about your sexuality? Did I do something wrong?"

"Yes. Yes, you did. You were Laney. You knew you were bi in fucking middle school. Your parents never batted an eye when you told them. How could I tell you that I was struggling? That my parents are amazing, but this isn't what they wanted for me? That I wasn't sure it's what I wanted for me?"

"I'm sorry if—"

"Oh, I know it wasn't all peaches and cream for you. I was there. I heard what kids said. I saw you struggle—the guy who dumped you because he didn't think he'd be ‘enough,' the girl you liked who thought you were a curious straight girl and reamed you out for it. But even when things weren't easy, you didn't have a moment of self-doubt. I was all doubt and questions, and I didn't think you'd understand."

"I'm sorry you felt that way. I'm sorry if I seemed like I wouldn't have listened or would have pushed you into making a decision."

"You wouldn't have. It was just… Indecision doesn't suit me. I was embarrassed and I hated that. So when Sadie called, I blurted it all out. Not my tale of lesbian woe, but how you and I tried going out and how it was awkward and I'd been avoiding you. She was… Well, she was Sadie."

Easy to talk to. A genuinely good listener. The kind of friend who, long after you've written them off and declared them untrustworthy, you still find yourself taking their calls and even sending them the occasional touching-base text.

"And she suggested I might have set up that dating profile for you," I say. "Not to be cruel. Just good old Laney goofing around. Maybe needling you a little. I'm a practical joker, and I don't always know when to quit." I glance over. "Close?"

"Yeah. She asked who could have had those photos. They were from when my parents took you and me to Costa Rica after grad."

"So it looked like I put them up. Except we'd shared our vacation photos with Sadie, whose parents wouldn't let her go."

She nods. "Without ever actually accusing you, she convinced me it was you, and that hurt. It hurt so damn much, and now I look back and wonder whether it was supposed to hurt. A double whammy. Maybe Sadie didn't just put up that profile to be a bitch but to drive a wedge between us. More revenge for…" She shrugs. "You know. Siding with you. When… it happened."

When it happened. The thing we don't talk about.

I tense before rolling it off.

She continues, "Hell, everyone sided with you. They knew who was telling the truth. What Sadie did? Picking him over you? Making you feel—" She takes deep breaths. "See? Even now I am furious on your behalf. It brought us closer together and drove her away."

"You think the profile was revenge? Intended to break up our friendship. If so, it worked."

Now she's the one flinching. "I'm sorry, Laney."

"Whether it was Sadie or not, it absolutely wasn't me. I knew you were struggling, and posting that profile would be a spectacularly shitty thing to do. There's no practical joke there. It's cruel, and I would have hoped you'd know better."

She bites her lip and turns away.

"But you were in a vulnerable place," I say. "I knew that, and I gave you space when I should have pushed."

"You let me walk away without demanding an explanation?" she says, her gaze locked on mine now. "You presumed you'd done something wrong? Or the other person just changed their mind about you? Suddenly didn't want to be with you when that made zero sense?"

We aren't talking about us anymore. Oh, we are, but we're also talking about my marriage, and when I duck her gaze she sighs.

"You need to stop giving other people so much credit, Laney," she says. "Stop presuming they left for a valid reason, and not because humans are fucked-up individuals who make stupid mistakes, and sometimes, you're not the only one who's hanging back, presuming if the other party doesn't try to mend the rift, it's because they don't want it mended."

I look at her. "I do want to mend our friendship. And if you're referring to anything else…"

"It's none of my damn business," she says. "I agree."

"As for Sadie, the point is not what she might have done ten years ago, but what she might have done now. Yes, she can be petty, even cruel, but what's the point here? Staging those scenes to drive me away from Hemlock Island? That's clever revenge, if I do say so myself. She thinks I ‘stole' Kit, and so she steals what I have left from him? Brilliant. But blowing up my boats? Trapping me on the island with Kit. That's like a freaking romance plot."

She snorts. "That's one fucked-up plot… if it includes being trapped with your estranged BFF, your teenage niece, and the bastard who—" She clears her throat. "Not a romance plot."

"True. But you get my point. If Sadie's still angry with me, still wants Kit, why trap me with him and then hide?"

"That supposes she does still want Kit. Or that she thinks she has a hope in hell of getting him." She glances at the window and then back to me. "They had a fight last night. Did you hear it?"

"I heard them in his room and got the hell away as fast as I could."

She stares at me. "Did you think—? Wait, is that why you didn't want to go in and ask him about the gun? You thought they were in bed together? In your house?" She waves a hand. "Staying out of it. Point is that they argued. Has he mentioned it to you?"

I shake my head. "You?"

"Nope," she says. "He hasn't mentioned it to anyone. Because I get the feeling that if Sadie took her revenge last night, it wasn't just about you."

"Bomb," Garrett says as he strides into the house. He doesn't hold the door for Kit and Madison. He doesn't even pause to make sure they lock it once everyone's inside. He has his answer, and because it's a logical one, nothing else matters. It's as if we're at a crime scene back home and not trapped on an island, possibly with a killer.

"Someone blew up the boats," he continues as he walks to the liquor cabinet. "Asshole move, but what do you expect? They're trying to scare you off. That poor Nate kid died, and they used his body in their sick scheme. Then they blew up the boats, and now Sadie is sulking somewhere, waiting for us to come coax her out. She pulled shit like this as a kid. I thought she'd outgrown it but…" He shrugs and pours a finger of whiskey.

There. Everything neatly tied up. Logical explanation. Nothing scary happening. Nothing at all. He just feels like downing a shot of hard liquor at nine in the morning, that's all.

I look at Kit. He's got his thousand-yard stare on. Ignoring Garrett and thinking it through, though I can't mistake that look on his face, the one that tells me he's not buying this story Garrett is so desperate to sell.

"That wasn't a bomb," Madison says.

Garrett wheels on her. To her credit—God, I love this kid—she stands firm and lifts her chin. "Tell me what kind of bomb does that?"

"How the hell should I know?" he says. "I'm not on the bomb squad. That's obviously what it was. Only thing that makes sense."

"Not to me."

"Because you're a kid." He downs the whiskey. "Okay, we need to find Sadie. It's a pain in the ass, but whoever set those bombs could still be on the island, and I might want to let Sadie sulk it off, but we can't take the chance she'll get hurt. We need search parties. Comb the island. Find her. Bring her in."

Jayla and I look at each other.

"That's presuming—" Jayla begins.

"What about the storm?" Madison says at the same time, having not noticed Jayla speaking. "And the fact we don't have a boat? Or a phone? Or any way of getting help?"

"We'll figure all that out later," Garrett says. "After we find Sadie."

Jayla looks at me.

"We need to be careful," I say. "Really careful. Not only could someone be on the island, but it's possible Sadie hasn't come back because she's hurt. Maybe she was near the bombs. She could have hit her head. She might be confused, frightened, not thinking straight. Even if we see her, we must be careful."

Jayla nods. That satisfies her concern that Sadie is behind this. Personally, I don't think we're going to find Sadie. I'm not saying that I definitely saw her in the water, but I think it's very possible she was in that boat. But no one wants to hear that, and unless we're sure, we need to look, in case Garrett is right. We can't focus on escaping the island until we're sure Sadie isn't out there, in need of rescue.

"Garrett?" Jayla says. "Are you okay searching on your own?"

"'Course," he says gruffly.

"Then I'll take Mads. Laney and Kit can search the boathouse. They know all the nooks and crannies."

I can ask Kit about his fight with Sadie. That's what Jayla means, and I agree. This is a piece of the puzzle we need.