11. Killer

ELEVEN

KILLER

M adison is the screamer, but that's only because Summer went temporarily mute when she walked into her cabin and discovered her husband.

Because Tyler is dead.

He's dead.

He's dead, dead, dead…

I should've stayed outside. Looking down on Vee from the top of the ravine was one thing. That upset me, but it didn't bother me; not like it made poor Tyler puke. But there's a difference between seeing a broken body twenty feet away and standing maybe three feet away from the mess that used to be Tyler Kaye's chest.

I don't know how many times he was stabbed. Once I saw the blood, the gore, the torn-up skin and tissue that covered the blanket and sheets on the bed beneath him, I covered my mouth with my hand and hightailed it back outside where Summer was clinging to Madison.

Madison was murmuring that it'll be okay, everything will be okay, while Summer sobbed. She'd broken her stunned quiet with a howl while we were inside, almost as though it finally hit her that that hunk of blond meat was her husband, and the way she wailed was one of the reasons I followed Tommy inside with Chase.

I couldn't stay, though. I'm a horror buff, but that… it's real . It's not like the movies. You can smell the blood, the sickening sweetness of death, the shit he expelled when he died… the room was rancid. Rank. There was so much blood. I compare it to the crime scene photos I saw of Clay's car.

That was a lot.

This is more .

Chase and Tommy stood over Tyler as I left, hushed murmurs passing between them about what we should do next. I'm assuming part of their decision was leaving the body alone, just like we did with Vee, because they come outside almost immediately, locking the door behind him.

If Summer notices, she doesn't say anything. She just gulps a couple of deep breaths, trying to get herself under control. She has an audience now, and if that's unkind after I saw what happened to Tyler, the way she turns her tears off as quickly as she does makes me not regret my thought.

At least, unlike Summer, I keep it to myself.

Chase waits for her to finish composing herself. What happens next is nothing less than a cross examination, and if I like Summer a little more, I'd feel bad for the way that Chase is going all lawyer on her so soon.

Not that I blame him. Another one of us is dead, and while it was pure luck that Tyler stumbled upon Vee's body after she fell, why the hell did it take until the afternoon for her to realize that her husband was lying dead in his bed.

None of us are pros, though Chase likes to think he is. We can't say for sure when Tyler died, but since he's already in rigor mortis and the spilt blood itself has started to oxidize, he's been dead for a while.

So why did Summer only just find him?

"That's easy. Because I didn't sleep with him last night. I only just went back to our cabin now to change and see what he was up to because I was bored. Okay?"

"If you weren't with Tyler, where did you sleep?" asks Chase.

"I slept in the vacant one next to yours," she says, tilting her chin up in defiance. "Tyler was tossing and turning ‘cause of everything that happened. I just wanted to sleep and since Aaron's not here, I took his bed."

She's lying. To be fair, if Summer's not being a total bitch to me, most of the time I expect whatever she says to be a lie. Like when she boasts about how Tyler loves her, or that she's loyal when even Vee let slip that Summer gets some on the side whenever she's bored, or that we're the bestest of best childhood friends when she'd happily throw me to the wolves if given the chance.

This is different, though. She's lying about last night. Not where she slept, because I'm pretty sure Summer's not the type of chick to make her bed up in the morning. If she was in Aaron's assigned cabin, there will be evidence of that. But why was she there? Because after the way she came to my cabin the night before, so desperate to go to bed with Tyler she needed Tommy to help find him, I can't imagine she chose to sleep alone.

No. Something's off.

Something's not right.

I remember her reaction when I suggested she might've been involved in Vee's accident. I'd been fucking with her because, let's face it, she's Summer fucking Kaye, but I didn't honestly believe she had anything to do with the fall.

But now that Tyler's been murdered…

"Convenient alibi," I murmur, my voice soft though everyone gathered can definitely hear me. "You leave your husband alone just in time for him to be stabbed to death."

Summer lifts her hand as if she's going to slap me. I don't flinch. I'm not afraid of her, and she sees something in my face that has her thinking better of following through with her strike.

Shaking her hair out, her voice trembling in a combination of fury and grief, she says, "He was sleeping fitfully when I left. I even complained to Tommy and Chase when I saw them talking on the porch. And the snoring… the snoring…" Summer's voice trails off, as if realizing that despite her bitching, she'll never hear Tyler snore again. Her voice breaks, then drops. "You could hear it through the window. He was alive when I swapped cabins."

"That's right," Tommy says, confirming Summer's story. Through the sudden sheen of tears in her eyes, she gives him a thankful—and almost besotted—look. "After I talked to Chase, I poked my head in on Tyler when I heard the snoring stop. I thought he was awake, but he was tossing and turning, just like Sum said. She didn't do it."

"See? I told you?—"

Madison gasps, cutting Summer off. "So you were the last one to see Tyler alive."

"What? Tommy?" Forgetting my own suspicions from last night—because, for my sanity, I have to—I scoff. "Are you saying that Tommy killed Tyler?"

Madison doesn't back down, though she does take a sidestep closer to Chase. Not Summer, I notice. Chase . Like he's going to protect her from me ? Please. "I'm just saying that Tommy was the last one who saw Tyler alive. Isn't that how it works?" She glances up at Chase. "You're a lawyer. Don't the cops always suspect whoever saw the victim last? Like with Cyn and her mom?"

It takes everything I have not to react to Madison's comment. Of course. Of fucking course. One of our own has been murdered —maybe even two —and this dumb bitch wants to bring up my mom again.

Tommy lays his hand on my arm. "I didn't kill Tyler," he says.

"You could've," insisted Madison, all while Summer holds her tongue. It's so unlike her, I have to wonder if she has her own suspicions—and Madison is the one to voice them. "We all know you have that knife."

That's right. How could I have forgotten? A gift from his dad right before we came to Halo Island for that fateful seniors' weekend, Tommy always keeps it in his right hand back pocket.

As if proving my point, he dips his hand into that exact pocket, removing his switchblade. It's folded, and with a press of the button on the side, the knife springs open. It's about five inches long from tip to hilt, and while it could do some pretty wicked damage, it's absolutely pristine.

Does that mean he couldn't have stabbed Tyler and cleaned it off? No. I don't know what he did in the bathroom last night when he said he had to pee and changed from his daytime clothes to a pair of sweats and a t-shirt to sleep in. But, holy hell… this is Tommy . He couldn't have killed Tyler.

Summer didn't.

Madison was with Chase, so they couldn't have.

Vee's dead.

And I know I didn't do it.

So what now?

I rub my forehead, trying to make sense of this. Around me, Summer chides Madison for even suggesting Tommy would ever hurt one of us. Too little, too late, in my opinion, but I hear him murmur his appreciation for trusting him. Chase is already in lawyer mode, trying to keep everyone as calm as humanly possible. Like with Vee, he doesn't want us to touch anything, and I get that.

I also think that's the least of our concerns right now.

Vee. It all started with Violet Lee's death. But if hers was an accident, what the hell happened to Tyler?

Could he have stabbed himself? Despite the fact that Summer insists there was no knife, the scene makes it pretty fucking clear what happened: Tyler was asleep when he was stabbed for the first time. He flailed, knocking shit off the nightstand, but he was already dead; he just didn't know it yet. The added stab wounds were for insurance—or to send a message.

Vee…

I think back to the night at the lake. About how she was so adamant that she saw a stranger in the trees that she had to go searching for him.

Did she find him?

What about Tyler? He found Vee's body, and was also the only one of us who took her seriously. What did she tell him? What did he know?

Is that why he's dead now?

Who killed him?

We all have an alibi. It can't be any of us who did it—and that means only one thing.

And since no one else is saying it, I do.

"Guys, I don't think we're alone on the island anymore."

No one wants to believe we have some psycho killer on Halo Island with us barely a week before Halloween. It sounds crazy, but after the initial denial dies down, we have to accept the obvious: if we didn't kill Tyler and he didn't stab himself to death, someone else must've done it.

It all goes back to the lake. Vee thought she saw someone and most of us thought she was full of it. The ferry brought seven of us over. No other ferry will stop here or risk a hell of a fine. Cottonwood Harbor is small. Word would get back if they got caught and they could lose their livelihood. It wasn't worth it.

Tommy also said that a cleaning crew came out after every visit to spruce up the cabins and reset them for the next set of guests. Those crews were counted—because the new owners were reportedly very serious about not allowing any strays on the island to bother their guests—and it would've been impossible for someone to be on Halo Island without someone else knowing about it.

But what other explanation was there?

Right when I could tell that the crew would rather stay in denial than protect ourselves, I made sure to mention that I swore I saw a shadowy figure walking along the shore last night.

It's a fib. A tiny one. If I actually said the figure was leaving Summer and Tyler's cabin—that odds are I saw the killer —I could only imagine Tommy's overprotective reaction. He'd probably toss me on his back, dive into the Pacific, and swim the fifteen miles back to shore while racing sharks if he knew that.

So I don't tell him. What would it help? We already know we have a killer. At least, this way, the others know that the killer was close enough he could get to Tyler.

He could get to any of us.

Tommy did give me a strange look when I did, but instead of acting like I'd probably imagined that, he used that as further proof that we weren't alone. And though he doesn't go so far as to suggest we try to outswim a great white shark, he does have a different plan.

He was going to find the killer and neutralize the psycho himself. I tried to get him to change his mind, but when Chase offered to go with him… when Chase ducked into his cabin and came back with a six-chambered revolver … the most I could do was agree to lock myself into the cabin white Chase and Tommy went looking for a monster.

Do I want to know why Chase has a gun? Not really. Right now, with someone hunting us, I'm just glad he does. Same for Tommy's switchblade. We need to be able to protect ourselves.

Then again, maybe that's what Chase has been doing. After getting jumped as a teen, beaten so badly that both of his legs were broken, carrying the gun on him was his way to get over it.

To move on.

Why is it so hard to move on?

That's what's I'm thinking at this very second. Alone in the cabin that's quickly beginning to feel like a cage, I'm pacing the front room, waiting for Tommy to come back.

Night fell about an hour ago. It's dark. As beautiful as the weather is, the island itself is foreboding. It hungers for blood and it's already been fed at least once. Maybe twice if my suspicions about Vee's fall being more than an accident are valid.

I'm alone. If Tommy had it his way, I wouldn't be. The guys tried to convince us girls to hunker down in one of the cabins together. Safety in numbers, I guess. But when Summer conveniently had another mute attack, shaking her head while leaving Madison to explain that they'd prefer to stay together without me, I didn't argue.

Tommy locked me in. He kissed me goodbye, promised he'd be back as soon as they killed the creep killing us , then made me swear not to open the door to anyone. The cabins might be rustic-looking on the outside, but these aren't the type of doors you can kick in. You need a key which is why Tommy took ours with him, but just in case, I move the couch up against the door.

I can't watch another movie. When it seems like I'm living in a horror film all of a sudden, most of the cabin's collection is a huge turn-off.

Besides, I've spent the last couple of hours obsessively checking the window. I don't think I'll be able to breathe again until I see Tommy and Chase returning in one piece. They have to. There are two of them, each with a weapon, and I don't know what the killer wants with us or what they're doing out there, but I have faith in… well, Tommy, at least.

And a gun.

I have faith in the gun.

So why aren't they back yet?

For the hundredth time, I move next to the window, peering out in the darkness. Only one other cabin has a light one: Madison's. I see a light in the window, plus the one over the porch that wasn't on before. They must've flipped it so that could see easier outside, too.

That's not all the light does.

The gauze yellow reach of the porchlight illuminates a shadow figure standing right in front of Madison's cabin. Something catches on the item they're holding in their right hand. It flashes, like a reflection, but from this distance, I can't see what it is.

I also can't see who it is.

Is it the same figure from last night? Something in the way they move makes me think so, but it's familiar in another way. Almost like I know who that is?—

I press my forehead against the glass, cupping my eyes to see better. I'm not too worried about the figure noticing me watching them. We have one window made of bulletproof glass, plus two impenetrable locked doors.

Who is that?

I can't tell. Their face… it's still shadowed.

Their steps started out slow. Easy. Leisurely. Like they have all the time in the fucking world, but they decided to stroll on down to my cabin. As soon as their pace picks up, I'm sure they caught me staring.

They can't get me. I tell myself that again as the figure eats up the distance between Madison's cabin and mine.

They can't, and because I'm so sure I'm safe in here, I don't move away from the cabin as the killer comes to a stop right in front of it.

He tilts his head.

I stop breathing as I get my first good look at the killer on Halo Island.

No wonder I couldn't pick out their features from the shadows.

They don't have any.

The killer is wearing a mask. A matte black plastic one, with holes for the eyes, slits for the nose, and nothing for the mouth. With the hood of his black hooded sweatshirt—not blue, I think, not blue , but does it matter—up over his hair, I can't see if their curls. The shadows make it difficult to tell if his eyes are brown or blue or green. I don't even know if it is a man that's out there, just on the other side of the window. The only spot of him not covered in black fabric or a mask is his hands. At the very least, I can tell our killer is white.

But I also know one other very important thing.

He's holding a knife in his right hand. I can't miss that. And when he slowly lifts up his left, I can't miss what he's holding in that one, either.

It's a cabin key .