Chapter 20

20

Sara matched her pace to Jon's shuffling stride as they followed the Loop Trail to the dining hall. She had delayed their departure because she wasn't going to take a sixteen-year-old to cocktails. This seemed like a silly line to draw considering Jon was stoned when she'd knocked on the door to cottage nine. She'd bribed her way in with bags of potato chips and two Snickers bars that Will was certain to miss.

Jon had absorbed the news of his father's innocence in shocked silence. He was clearly overwhelmed by the events of the last twenty-four hours. He'd stopped trying to hide his tears. He'd only stared at Sara in disbelief, his hands trembling, his lower lip quivering, as she'd relayed the facts: Dave was innocent. They had another suspect, but Sara wasn't at liberty to tell him any more than that.

She had offered to take him to his grandparents, but Faith had been right. The boy was in no hurry to go home. Sara had kept him company as best she could. They had talked about trees and hiking trails and anything but the fact of his mother's murder. Sara could tell by the way he spoke—the lack of uhms and ers and likes that peppered most teenagers' sentences—that he had been predominantly raised in the company of adults. That those adults all shared the last name McAlpine was a very bad luck of the draw.

Jon kicked a pebble off the path, his foot raking through the dirt. He was visibly anxious. He knew better than Sara that they were close to the dining hall. He was probably thinking that his presence after being gone for so many hours would create a stir. The last time he'd been inside the building, he'd been blind drunk and screamed at his mother that he hated her.

Sara asked, "Are you sure you want to do this? It's not exactly private. A lot of the guests will be there, too."

He nodded, his hair flopping into his eyes. "Will he be there?"

Sara knew he meant Dave. "Probably, but I could be the one to tell your family that you're back. You could wait for them at the house."

He kicked another pebble, shook his head.

She assumed they would continue on in silence, but Jon cleared his throat. He glanced at her before his eyes went back to the ground.

He asked, "What's your family like?"

Sara considered her answer. "I have a younger sister who's got a daughter. She's studying to be a midwife. My sister, not my niece."

Jon's mouth turned up in the hint of a smile.

"My father is a plumber. My mother does the bookkeeping and scheduling for the business. She's very involved in civic causes, and activities at her church, which she often reminds me of."

"What's your dad like?"

"Well—" Sara was aware that Jon had a complicated relationship with his own father. She didn't want to shame Dave by proxy. "He loves dad jokes."

Jon's eyes slid her way again. "What kind of dad jokes?"

Sara thought about the card her father had put in her suitcase. "He knew I was going to be in the mountains this week, so he gave me a dollar in case there were any deer parties."

"Deer parties?"

"Yeah, it costs a buck to get in."

Jon snorted.

"He wanted to make sure I had the doe."

Jon laughed out loud. "That's pretty corny."

Sara thought it was pretty wonderful. If Jon had been unlucky, Sara had hit the jackpot. "Remember what I told you about Will. He wants to talk to you about your mom. He has some things to tell you."

Jon nodded. His eyes were back on the ground. She thought about the young man she had met the day before. He had been so confident when he'd walked down the front steps of his family home. At least he'd been that way until Will had cut him down to size. Now, Jon seemed nervous and cowed.

As a pediatrician, Sara had witnessed the dualities in children. Boys in particular were desperate to figure out how to be men. Unfortunately, they often looked to the wrong men for their role models. Jon had Cecil, Christopher, Dave, and Chuck. Clearly, he could do worse than a creepy incel who was being routinely poisoned by his best friend, but you could also do a hell of a lot better.

"Sara?"

Faith was waiting for her on the viewing platform. She was alone. The lights were on inside the dining hall. Sara heard silverware clattering, the low hum of conversation. Everyone had been isolated up here for hours, watching guests being selected for scrutiny one by one. The kitchen staff had probably told them about the body in the freezer. Christopher was nowhere to be found. And then Dave had shown up like an atom bomb going off, and Gordon and Paul had not come down for drinks. Sara assumed they were all abuzz with theories.

She asked Jon, "Do you want to wait for me to go inside?"

"No, ma'am. I've got this." Jon straightened his shoulders as he walked through the door. He was putting on his armor. Her heart ached at the sight of his fragile courage.

"Sara," Faith repeated. "This way."

Sara followed her up the Chow Trail. Earlier, Faith had caught Sara up on Christopher's revelations while Kevin and Will secured the man in the boathouse. Now, Sara tried to catch Faith up on her end of the investigation. "Nadine called. The creek receded. They put two metric tons of gravel on the road. She'll be here within the hour. It won't be long before the news spreads that people can leave. They're already talking to each other. Whatever you say to one person, you might as well say to all."

Faith said, "Tell me about the autopsy."

Sara couldn't think in bullet points right now. "You mean about the pregnancy or—"

"What samples did you collect for the lab?"

"The sperm in her vagina. Urine and blood. I swabbed her thighs, mouth, throat, and nose, for saliva, sweat, or touch DNA. I collected some fibers—red, mostly, but some black, which isn't consistent with Mercy's clothing. There was some hair with the follicles intact. I took fingernail scrapings. I performed a—"

"Okay, that's good. Thank you."

Faith went uncharacteristically silent. She was clearly rolling ideas around in her head. Sara figured she would learn what was happening soon enough, which is exactly what happened when they made the last turn in the trail and saw Will.

He was studying the map Faith had marked up. Sara could tell from the weary expression on his face that something had gone terribly wrong during the interview with Paul.

She asked, "It wasn't him?"

"No," Will said. "Paul already knew that Cecil killed his sister. Gordon's story matched his almost exactly. It wasn't him."

Before Sara could recover from the surprise, Faith asked, "As a doctor, what did you notice about Cecil?"

Sara shook her head. The question had come from nowhere. "Be more specific."

Faith said, "Can he get out of the wheelchair?"

Sara shook her head again, but more to try to clear the confusion. "I don't know the extent of his injuries, but two-thirds of mobility device users fall under some degree of ambulatory."

Faith prompted, "Which means?"

"They're not paralyzed. They can walk short distances, but they use the chair because of chronic pain or injury or exhaustion or because it's physically easier." Sara mentally flashed through her brief interaction with Cecil at the cocktail party. "He can use his right arm. He shook our hands last night, remember?"

Will said, "His grip was strong."

"You're right, but there's no way to extrapolate from that data point absent a full exam." Sara tried to think it through, but she couldn't see a way to be helpful. "I can't tell you whether he can walk unless I see his medical chart and talk to his doctors. Even then, willpower is amazing. Look at how long Mercy stayed alive after being stabbed so many times. Science will never explain everything. Sometimes, bodies can do things that don't make sense."

Faith asked, "Can they get an erection?"

Sara felt the shock of the implication. They had honed in on Cecil. "Give me more information."

Will said, "You were in the house. Did you see where Cecil was sleeping?"

"They converted one of the sitting rooms on the ground floor," Sara recalled. "He's using a regular bed, not a hospital bed. But—this might not mean anything, but I would expect a bedside commode. The downstairs toilet is too narrow for a chair. The bathtub didn't have a transfer seat. Cecil was in boxers when I saw him on the front porch this morning. He wasn't wearing a urine collection bag. There weren't any catheters in the bathroom. I also saw a set of men's toiletries laid out on a shelf above the toilet. Even if the bathroom was accessible, he wouldn't be able to reach them from a chair."

Faith said, "You told me it was weird that there's not a wheelchair van in the parking pad."

"I didn't say it was weird. I said that he probably had people to help lift him in and out of the truck. Bitty's too small to do it on her own. She could've asked Jon or Christopher. Or Dave, for that matter."

"Wait," Will said. "When I rang the bell, Cecil was the first to come out. Then I saw Bitty, but I didn't see her pushing the chair. Cecil was just there, and then Bitty was there. Christopher didn't show up until later. Neither did Jon. Delilah was still upstairs when I came back from Gordon and Paul's cottage. You said it yourself. There's no way Bitty could lift Cecil on her own. She's not even five feet tall, maybe a hundred pounds in her socks. So how did Cecil get in his chair?"

"He got up and walked," Faith said.

Sara couldn't debate the walking anymore. "What did Paul tell you that set all of this off?"

Will provided, "He saw Mercy at 10:30, but she didn't go up the trail. She went inside the house. Paul watched Cecil get up from the porch and follow her inside."

Sara didn't know what to say.

"The first call from Mercy to Dave was at 10:47," Faith said. "Dave didn't answer. Mercy stewed. Then she went to talk to her father. Maybe Cecil panicked because he thought Mercy would talk to Paul again and find out how Gabbie really died. What did Cecil do to Mercy in those ten minutes?"

Sara put her hand to her throat. She had heard the kinds of things that Cecil McAlpine was capable of.

"Whatever happened with Cecil put Mercy into a tailspin. She called Dave at 10:47, 11:10, 11:12, 11:14, 11:19, 11:22. We know she was somewhere in the Wi-Fi area when she made these calls."

Will held up the map so that Sara could see. "Mercy was probably still inside the house when she started making the calls. She packed her backpack, stuck in her clothes and the notebook. She ran down to the dining hall. She kept trying to get in touch with Dave."

"There's an office safe in the back of the kitchen," Faith said. "Kevin opened it with Christopher's key. It was empty."

Will said, "Remember what Mercy said on the voicemail: ‘Dave will be here soon.'"

Faith said, "She was talking to Cecil."

Sara looked at the map, taking in the distance between the house and the dining hall, the dining hall, and the bachelor cottages. "Cecil could possibly make it to the dining hall, but not down to the bachelor cottages. He wouldn't be able to manage the Rope Trail, and Old Widow would take him too long. Not to mention having the physical strength to stab Mercy that many times."

Will said, "Which is why he sent someone else to take care of her."

Sara needed a moment to process exactly what they were saying. She looked at Will. Now she understood the haggard expression on his face. "You think Cecil had an accomplice?"

Will said, "Dave."

Sara felt it all clicking together. "Mercy was trying to block the sale. With her out of the way, Dave would control Jon's vote. He's got a money motive."

"He's got more than that," Will said. "He's helped Cecil clean up his messes before."

Faith took over. "Dave knew that Cecil staged the car accident. He told Paul last year in exchange for some cash. Look—"

Sara watched Faith swipe her finger across her phone to pull up a county map.

"Devil's Bend is near the quarry on the outside of town, about a forty-five-minute drive from the lodge. Christopher said three hours elapsed between the time Cecil drove away with Gabbie and Mercy in the car and the time the sheriff came to notify them about the accident. There's no way Cecil could've hiked home in three hours. There's an entire mountain between the two locations. Someone had to drive him."

Sara said, "Dave."

"Fourteen years ago, Dave helped Cecil cover up Gabbie's murder," Faith said. "And last night, Dave helped Cecil kill Mercy to cover up for him again."

Sara was convinced. "What are you doing? What's the plan?"

Will said, "I want you to find a way to get Jon out of there. I'm going to stir up Dave."

"Stir up Dave?" Sara didn't like how that sounded. "How are you going to stir him up?"

Will told Faith, "Give us a minute."

Sara felt every hair on the back of her neck stand on end when Faith walked down the trail. She told Will, "You need Dave to turn on Cecil."

"Yes."

"So you're going to goad Dave into saying something stupid."

"Yes."

"And he's probably going to try to hurt you."

"Yes."

"And he probably has another knife."

"Yes."

"And Kevin and Faith are going to let it happen."

"Yes."

Sara looked at his right hand, which he was still holding against his chest. The bandage was frayed and almost black from dirt and sweat and God only knew what else. She let her eyes travel down. He wasn't wearing the revolver Amanda had given him. His left hand was at his side. She could see the wedding ring on his finger.

Will's first marriage proposal to Sara had not actually been a proposal. She hadn't answered the question because he had not actually asked her the question. The fact of this should not have been surprising. He was a remarkably awkward man. He was given to grunting and long silences. He preferred the company of dogs to most people. He liked to fix things. He preferred not to discuss how they'd been broken.

But he also listened to Sara. He respected her opinion. He valued her input. He made her feel safe. He was a lot like her father. Which got to the heart of why Sara was so profoundly, irrevocably in love with him. Will was always going to stand up when everyone else stayed seated.

She said, "Beat the hell out of him."

"All right."

Sara felt shaky as she walked toward the dining hall. She twisted her wedding ring around her finger. She thought about Jon, because that was the one person she wanted to protect. The last twenty-four hours had been crushingly traumatic for the young man. He'd gotten blind drunk. He'd argued with his mother. He'd thrown up in his own front yard in front of a stranger. He'd been surrounded by more strangers when he'd learned that his mother had been murdered. Then his father had been arrested, then his father was put in the clear, and now Will was about to goad Dave into bragging about the fact that he had murdered the mother of his child.

Sara had to get Jon out of there before it happened.

Faith was waiting on the viewing deck again. Kevin had joined her.

He said, "I got the kitchen staff out of the way. They're up in cottage four until this blows over. What about the guests?"

Will said, "We'll play it by ear. We want Dave to put on a show. He might want an audience."

Sara looked up at Will. "What if I can't get Jon to leave?"

"Then he'll hear what he hears."

Sara took a deep breath. That was a hard reality to swallow. She nodded. "Okay."

Faith warned, "Keep an eye on Bitty. Remember what I said about her acting like Dave's psycho ex. She might be unpredictable."

That part Sara was ready for. Nothing that happened in this place could surprise her anymore. "Let's get this over with."

Kevin opened the door.

Sara walked into the dining room first. The scene was familiar. Two tables, only one of them set for dinner. Supper had already been served. Dessert plates were scraped clean. Wine glasses were half-empty. Instead of being grouped together, the couples had spread out, each of them in different camps. Frank and Monica were with Drew and Keisha. Gordon and Paul were seated with Delilah. Cecil's chair was at the head of the table. Bitty was on his left with Dave beside her. Jon was on Cecil's right, directly across from his grandmother.

Sara felt all eyes on her as she sat down beside Jon. Being so close to his father had sapped the young man's courage. His hands were gripped together in his lap. There were sweat marks on his shirt. His head was bowed, but even Sara could feel the white-hot hate that he was directing across the table at Dave.

"Jon." Sara touched his arm. "Can I talk to you outside?"

"Hell no," Dave said. "You people've already deprived me of enough time with my boy."

Bitty said, "That's the damn truth. I want all of y'all out of here as soon as the road is open."

"Quiet," Cecil said. He was gripping his fork in his right hand. He stabbed a piece of cake. He chewed noisily in the silence.

Jon kept his head down. His anguish was as palpable as his anger. Sara wanted to wrap her arms around him and whisk him away, but she couldn't interfere with the investigation. Will and Faith had already taken up their positions. Kevin was blocking the entrance. Faith stood at the opposite end of the table. Will had put himself close to Dave, which also gave him proximity to the kitchen door. They had formed a perfect triangle.

"So?" Cecil barked. "What's this about?"

Bitty asked, "Where is my son?"

Faith said, "Christopher's been arrested for producing, distributing and selling illegal alcohol."

There was a short period of silence that was broken by Dave's laughter.

"Damn," he said. "Way to go, Fishtopher."

"Hear, hear." Paul raised a glass. "To Fishtopher."

Monica tried to join the toast, but Frank held down her hand. Sara looked at Bitty. The woman's attention was squarely on Dave.

His demeanor had changed. He knew this was not a friendly conversation. He rapped his fingers on the table as he looked first at Kevin, then Faith, then finally, he turned his head to look up at Will. "Hey, Trashcan. How's your hand?"

Will said, "Better than your balls."

Jon snickered.

"Jon." Sara kept her voice low when she suggested, "Why don't we leave?"

Dave said, "Keep your ass in that chair, boy."

Jon had frozen at the sharp order. Bitty made a tutting sound. Sara looked at the silverware settings. Two types of forks, a knife, a spoon. Any one of them could be turned into a weapon. She knew that Will had made the same calculations. His gaze had stayed not on Dave's face, but on his hands. Sara looked at Bitty's hands, too. They were folded on the table.

"So?" Dave said. "Whattaya got, Trashcan?"

Faith answered, "The coroner called. She found some evidence during Mercy's autopsy."

Bitty huffed, "Is this an appropriate venue to discuss such matters?"

Paul said, "I think tonight would be a great night for all of us to hear the truth."

Sara caught Faith shutting him down with a look.

"Or not." Paul returned his glass to the table.

Faith said, "The coroner scraped under Mercy's fingernails. She found pieces of skin, which means that Mercy scratched whoever attacked her. We're going to need DNA from every person in here."

Dave laughed. "Good fucking luck, lady. You need a warrant for that."

"Judge Framingham is signing off on it right now." Faith spoke with such authority that Sara almost believed her. "You know the judge, don't you, Dave? He presided over a couple of your DUIs, right? He's the one who pulled your driver's license."

Dave traced his finger along the fork beside his plate. "You're just gonna take everybody's DNA here?"

"That's right," Faith said. "Every single person."

Drew said, "You can't do that. There's no reason to suspect—"

"You don't need my fucking DNA," Cecil said. "I'm her goddam father."

Sara flinched at the explosion of rage. Her mind immediately went to Gabbie, then Mercy.

"Mr. McAlpine." Faith kept her voice calm. "There's something called touch-DNA, which means that anybody who came into physical contact with Mercy, whether it was Bitty or Delilah or you or Jon or even one of the guests, left some of their genetic material on her body. We have to establish profiles on everyone so we can isolate the killer's. The kitchen staff and Penny have already given samples. It's really not that big a deal."

"Okay." Delilah surprised everyone by speaking first. "I held Mercy's hand. It was before dinner, but sign me up. How do we do this? Spit? Swab?"

"Fuck. No." Keisha slapped the table. "I'm not keeping your secret anymore. This is bullshit."

"What secret?" Delilah asked.

Faith provided, "Mercy was twelve weeks pregnant."

Bitty gasped. Her eyes went straight to Dave.

Sara looked at Dave, too. The news had clearly unsettled him.

Faith said, "We know that Mercy had sex with some of the guests."

There was cross-talk at the end of the table, but Sara could only watch Bitty place a calming hand on Dave's arm. His jaw was tight. He kept clenching and unclenching his fist.

He said, "What are you saying about my wife?"

Will chose now to jump in. "Mercy wasn't your wife."

Dave's fist clenched tight. He ignored Will, training all his rage on Faith. "What bullshit just came out of your fucking mouth?"

Will said, "It wasn't just the guests. Mercy was fucking Alejandro on the regular."

Dave stood up so fast that his chair fell over. He was looking at Will now. "Shut your fucking mouth."

Sara tensed along with everyone else at the table. The two men were facing off, both ready to kill each other.

"Dave." Bitty tugged at the back of his shirt. "Sit down, baby. If they had a warrant, they'd be showing it to you."

Dave's mouth twisted into a vulgar grin. "She's right. Show me the paper, Trashcan."

"You think I can't get your DNA?" Will asked. "You're gonna toss out a cigarette or throw away a bottle of Coke or smear your ass on a toilet seat and I'm gonna be right there collecting it. You can't help yourself. You leave your stink on everything you touch."

"I don't smoke," Frank weighed in, always trying to make peace. "But there's no need to follow me around. I'm happy to give a spit or a swab, too."

Gordon said, "Sure, why not? Count me in."

Paul asked, "Can we choose what type of donation we give?"

Sara watched Jon drop his face into his hands. He let out a sharp cry as he pushed away from the table. He ran across the room, almost barreling into Kevin. The door banged shut behind him. The sound echoed in the silence. Sara didn't know what to do, whether to go after him or stay.

"My precious boy," Bitty whispered in the silence.

Dave looked down at his mother. Bitty was still stretched across the table, reaching for Jon's empty chair. She slowly sat back. Clasped together her hands. Dave's gaze lifted to the door Jon had just escaped through. There was something unguarded in his expression. His lower lip started to tremble. Tears welled into his eyes.

Then just as suddenly, they were gone.

Dave's demeanor changed so quickly that Sara thought she'd witnessed a magic trick. One moment, he looked utterly broken, the next he was enraged.

Dave kicked his overturned chair. The wood splintered against the wall.

He screamed, "You want my DNA, Trashcan?"

"Yeah," Will said. "I do."

"Take it from that baby I put in Mercy's belly. Ain't nobody else ever touched her. That fucking kid is mine."

"There he is," Will said. "Father of the year."

"You're goddam right I am."

"You're so full of shit," Will said. "Mercy was the only real parent Jon ever had. She kept him safe. She provided for him. She put a roof over his head and food in his mouth and love in his heart and you took that from him."

"We gave Jon those things!" Dave yelled. "Me and Mercy. It was always me and her."

"Ever since you were eleven, right?"

"Fuck you." He took a menacing step toward Will. "You got no idea what we had. Mercy loved me since she was a baby."

"Like a good little sister?"

"You motherfucker," Dave muttered. "You know exactly what we had. I was the one she loved. I was the one she cared about. I was the only man who ever fucked her."

"You fucked her all right."

"Say it again," Dave said. "Say that one more time to my face, you stupid bitch. You want me to write it down for you? You want me to spell it out, Trashcan? Mercy loved me. All she ever cared about was me."

"Then why didn't she say anything about you?" Will asked. "Mercy was still alive when I got to her, Dave. She talked to me. She didn't even mention your name."

"Bullshit."

"I asked her to tell me who stabbed her. I begged her. You know what she said?"

"She didn't say it was me."

"No, she didn't," Will said. "She knew she was going to die, and all she cared about was Jon."

"Our Jon." He slammed his fist to his chest. "Our son. Our boy."

"She wanted Jon to get away from you," Will said. "That's the first thing she told me. ‘Jon can't stay. Get him away from here.' Get him away from you, Dave."

"That ain't true."

"They argued at dinner," Will said. "Jon was angry at Mercy for blocking the sale. He said he wanted to live with his grandmother in a house with you. Who put that in his head, Dave? Was it the same asshole who told him to call me Trashcan?"

Dave started shaking his head. "You're full of shit."

"Mercy wanted me to tell Jon that she forgave him," Will said. "She didn't want him carrying around any guilt from the fight. Those were literally the last words out of her mouth. Not about you, Dave. Never about you. Mercy could barely speak. She was bleeding out. The knife was still inside of her chest. I could hear the breath wheezing through the holes in her lungs. And with her last ounce of strength, her literal last breaths, she looked me right in the eye and said it three times in a row. Three times. Forgive him. Forgive him. Forgive—"

Will's voice caught. He stared at Dave with a look of horror on his face.

"What?" Dave said. "What did she say?"

Sara didn't understand what was happening. She watched Will's chest rise and fall as he took in a deep breath and slowly let it go. His gaze was still locked with Dave's. Something passed between them. Maybe their shared history. They were two fatherless boys. Jon had been raised a fatherless son. And now his mother was gone. They both knew better than most what it meant to be truly alone.

Will told Dave, "Mercy's last words were Tell Jon that I forgive him."

Dave said nothing. He stared up at Will, his head back, his mouth closed. He gave a slight nod, no more than a dip of his chin. Then the magic trick happened again, but this time in reverse. Dave deflated like a balloon. His shoulders rolled in. His fists relaxed. His hands dropped to his sides. The only thing that didn't change was the mournful expression on his face.

He asked, "Mercy said that?"

"Yes."

"That's exactly what she said?"

"Yes."

"Okay." Dave nodded once, like his mind had been made up. "Okay, it was me. I killed her."

Bitty gasped. "Davey, no."

Dave picked up a paper napkin from the table. He dried his eyes. "It was me."

"Davey," Bitty said. "Stop talking. We'll get a lawyer."

"It's all right, Mama. I stabbed Mercy. I'm the one who killed her." Dave waved toward the door. "Go on now. You don't need to hear the details."

Sara couldn't take her eyes off Will. The pain in his eyes was killing her. She had seen him at the lake with Mercy. She knew what her death had taken out of him. He looked down at his injured hand. He'd placed it back over his chest. Sara longed to go to him, but she knew that she couldn't. She could only sit helplessly as the room started to clear. First the guests, then Bitty finally stood up to push Cecil's chair, then they were gone.

Will finally looked at Sara. He shook his head. He told Faith, "Take over."

Sara felt his hand on her shoulder as he walked past. He'd pressed down, telling her to stay. He needed time alone. Sara had to give it to him.

Faith acted quickly. She had her Glock in her hands. Kevin had moved closer. She told Dave, "Show me that knife. Slowly."

Dave started with the butterfly knife in his boot. He laid it on the table. He said, "I knew Mercy was fucking around. I knew she was pregnant. I didn't know about the bootlegging, but I knew that she was making money and she wasn't giving any to me. We got into an argument."

"Where did you argue?"

"In the kitchen." Dave took out his wallet, his phone. "I cleaned out the safe. That's why you didn't find anything."

Faith asked, "What was in there?"

"Money. The books she was cooking so everybody got paid."

Faith said, "What about the knife?"

"What about it?" Dave gave an exaggerated shrug. "Red handle. Piece of metal sticking out of the broken-off part."

"Where did you get it?"

"Mercy kept it in her desk drawer. She used it to open envelopes."

"How did she end up at the bachelor cottages?"

"I chased her down the Rope Trail. I stabbed her and left her for dead. I started the fire to cover my tracks."

"She wasn't found in the cottage."

"I changed my mind. I wanted Jon to have a body to bury. I dragged her out to the water. Figured that would wash away any evidence. I didn't know she was still alive or I would've drowned her." He shrugged. "Then I hid out at the old camp. Caught some fish, made myself some dinner."

"Did you rape her?"

Dave hesitated, but only slightly. "Yeah."

"What did you do with the knife handle?"

"I sneaked into cottage three after Trashcan rang the bell. Same toilet I fixed before the guests hiked in." Dave shrugged again. "I figured Drew would go down for it. I guess you caught me though."

Sara watched Dave raise his hands, offering his wrists so that Faith could handcuff him.

"Not yet," Faith said. "Tell me about Cecil."

Dave shrugged yet again. "What do you want to know?"