41. Logan

41LOGAN

“It’s him,” I tell them. “It’s obviously him!”

Corinne watches as Max’s tall shape disappears into the dark. “I don’t know.”

“Okay, then who do you think it is? Me or Elody? Or a fucking ghost?” I wait, watching Corinne’s chest rise and fall with anxious breaths. “Who is it, Corinne?”

“I don’t know!” she explodes. “I just—I need time to think.”

My throat stings like I just got a mouthful of saltwater. “Yeah, well, ticktock. Because I have a feeling one of us is about to be next.”

Without a word, Elody walks away from us, following her flashlight beam into the night.

“Elody, wait,” Corinne tries.

But she doesn’t stop walking.

“Great,” I call. “Run after him, like always.”

Elody snaps her head back over her shoulder. “Maybe I’m running away from you. Ever think of that, babe?”

It washes over me like alcohol on broken skin.

As Elody disappears into the darkness, Corinne holds her necklace pendant so tightly she could break it.

“This is bad,” she says. “This is really bad.”

“Oh, really? ’Cause I’m having a pretty great time.”

“Logan—”

“Go. Chase after them if you want. Stay in a group, or whatever. Since you’re so sure Max couldn’t possibly kill anyone.”

“I didn’t say that.” Corinne takes a small step away from me, the water swirling around her heels.

She didn’t say it, but she doesn’t have to. The way she’s backing away from me, the fear in her eyes … it’s all I need to know. But I still need to hear it, to dig my fingers into the wound.

“Tell me you believe me,” I say. “Tell me you don’t think I’m a murderer.”

Corinne falters, her mouth opening slightly. Her hands still gripping the necklace, the flashlight. Holding on for dear life.

I turn around and start back to the house.

“Logan, wait!”

My walk turns into a run, like a little kid trying to outpace a nightmare, half tripping over mounds of sand, feeling my way through the dark until sand turns into terrace, until the tight pain in my throat turns into hot tears down my face. I run until the shadows of the house swallow me up. When I stop to catch my breath, fear prickles my skin as I start to wonder what might be hiding in the shadows.

Shakily, I cast my flashlight around the room. The beam spills over the murder board, the lipstick lines bright like blood, and then the cameras, their dark glassy eyes. Powerless. Dead. Shadows dance over the empty living room, bending with the trees and the waves. Finally, I bring my light to the kitchen, and that’s when I see it. The empty counter.

The safe is gone. The safe, which was here when we went outside.

Adrenaline shocks through me, every instinct screaming what I already knew: I’m a target, and someone’s here. Someone’s hunting me.

I run to the first place I see, the downstairs bathroom, shutting the door behind me and pressing my back against it, my breath rattling in my throat. I can feel another panic attack starting, cold sweat and thick tongue, and I try to breathe through it. Focus on surviving.

As my head starts to clear, I curse myself for not grabbing something to protect myself. There must be something here I can use. I search the shower for a razor, but there’s nothing. Then, I remember the frame, Aaron’s hiding place. Could I break it? Use the glass?

Wait, the frame. Blood rushes in my ears as I realize: it was open. We left it open, but now it’s closed. I pull on the edge, but it won’t move. I pull harder. Nothing. I feel around the edges of the frame for some kind of key, but I can’t find anything. My hands are exactly where Corinne’s were when she pulled it open, but it won’t budge.

“What the hell?” I whisper to myself. The door opened for Corinne. It should open for me.

I lean closer, running my hands over the border between the drawing and the frame. And that’s when I see it: a tiny, barely there circle, where the black looks slightly different, shinier, almost like …

Holy shit.

Like a camera. But why would there be a camera? Unless …

Facial recognition.

Oh my god. But no, because that would mean—

“Logan.”

I whirl around to see Corinne standing in the doorway like a ghost.