Ten (24 page)

Meg glanced back at T.J., but he was staring at the floor in the darkness, squinting as if he was trying to make sense of something. She followed his gaze and saw what he was looking at. A dark shape. A familiar shape.

Meg caught her breath. “The gun.”

Kumiko’s head snapped up. She stared Meg straight in the eye. “You did this.”

“Me?”

Kumiko’s eye flew from Meg to T.J., then she turned toward Minnie. “One of you.”

“No,” Meg said. She couldn’t believe that one of them was a murderer. “There’s someone else in the house. There has to be.”

“There’s no one else here,” Kumiko said. “Don’t you get it? It’s one of us.”

Meg backed away. “No. No, I don’t believe it.”

Kumiko’s eyes darted back and forth between the three of them. “Any of you could have shot him and slid the gun into the hall.”

T.J. took a step toward her. “Any of
us
.”

Kumiko sobbed and passed a hand over Gunner’s face, closing his eyes. “Right,” she said slowly. “Any of us.”

Without warning, Kumiko lunged at the gun on the floor. Before T.J. could get to her, she was on her feet, gun pointed directly at him. “Any of us could have done it. Only I know it wasn’t me.” She swung the gun to Minnie, then back to T.J. as she slowly backed her way toward the stairs. “There’s nobody else on this floor, so it must have been one of you.”

Meg stood slightly behind T.J., one hand in her pocket tightly grasping the boat keys.

“Why would we believe you?” he asked.

Kumiko laughed. “I don’t give a flaming shit if you believe me. But I know I didn’t do it, so I’m getting the hell out of here before I’m the next slash on the wall.”

“It’s dangerous out there,” T.J. said. He slowly crept toward the stairs as Kumiko backed down them.

“It’s dangerous
in here
.”

T.J. took another couple of steps. “It’s dark and the storm could pick up at any moment.”

“I’ll take my chances against Mother Nature over you guys any day.”

Minnie stood farther up the stairs. “They’ll find you, you know. The police. You won’t get away with this.”

“Get away with this?” Kumiko reached the landing. She eyed the foyer, then T.J. and Meg, who were slowly following her down the stairs. “You think I did this? You people are fucking crazy. I’m out of here.” She spun around and made a dash for the front door.

Meg ran down the stairs. “Kumiko, wait!”

T.J. grabbed her arm. “Let her go.”

Minnie followed behind. “Good riddance.”

“But the killer’s still out there. He could have climbed out through one of the bedroom windows. She’s not safe.”

T.J. shrugged. “She’s the one with the gun.”

“And how do we know she’s not the killer?” Minnie added.

“The killer could still be in here,” Meg argued. She stubbornly clung to her theory that the killer wasn’t one of them but was hiding in the house somewhere. “Look, I don’t think …” She paused.

“What?” T.J. asked.

Meg turned back toward the foyer. She had expected to hear the door open and slam shut when Kumiko ran out. Expected to, but didn’t. “Did you hear the door?”

T.J. tilted his head. “No. I didn’t.” His candle almost extinguished, he picked up the lantern and Meg matched his quick pace through the open hall to the foyer.

She heard it first. A noise that sounded like a cross between chattering teeth and an electric toothbrush. Then as she moved into the foyer, the smell hit her. Burning hair, like when a flyaway strand gets caught in the hair dryer. Tangy and sharp, it made her gag.

As the light from T.J.’s lantern filled the room, Meg saw Kumiko by the front door. She had her hand on the door handle, the gun discarded on the ground, but she seemed frozen. Her body taunt and rigid.

And vibrating.

“Kumiko?” Meg said, and started toward her.

T.J. grabbed her shoulder. “Don’t.” He pulled her back, then dashed into the study.

“What’s going on?” Minnie said. Her candle had practically burned itself out.

“I—I don’t know,” Meg said.

T.J. ran back into the foyer and shoved the lantern in Meg’s hand as he passed her carrying some sort of wooden stick. He went straight for Kumiko. Meg held the light up and watched in horror as T.J. used a wooden broom to pry Kumiko’s hand off the door. It took a few seconds, but when she was finally free of it, her body instantly crumpled to the ground, and instead of the sharp odor of burning hair, the significantly more disturbing smell of burnt flesh filled the air.

“What happened?” Minnie asked.

“Electrocuted,” T.J. panted. He dropped the broom to the ground then bent down next to Kumiko’s body. “I … I don’t think she made it.”

Judging by the steam literally rising off Kumiko’s body in the frigid house, Meg wasn’t surprised.

“It’s just like the diary,” Minnie said. Her voice cracked. “It’s true. We’re being hunted. Just like you said.”

“How?” Meg said. “All she did was grab the door.”

T.J. reached over his head and pulled off his sweater. He wrapped it around his hand and tapped it against the door handle, once, twice. Then he gingerly turned the handle and gave it a jerk. The door swung open about halfway, then bounced as if it was tethered to something on the other side and had reached the end of its leash.

Meg slowly approached the door, holding the weakening lantern before her with a shaky hand. On the porch sat a large black box encased in a bright orange trailer, complete with wheels for easy transport. It churned and hummed like an engine. A long orange cable snaked from the machine to the door handle, where it had been stripped of its protective outer layer and the interior wires separated out and secured to the metal handle with some sort of steel clamp.

“A generator,” T.J. said. “Hooked up to the door. It must have electrocuted her as soon as she touched the handle.”

Meg began to tremble. The house was booby-trapped? Perfect. What was next? What was waiting for them? They had to get out of there.

Meg whipped the keys out of her pocket. “I found these upstairs.”

T.J.’s eyes lit up. “The keys to the trawler?”

“What’s that?” Minnie said. Meg assumed she meant the boat, but no time to explain that now. They had to move.

“Can you drive it?” Meg asked T.J. “Can you get us out of here?”

“I can try. It’s got to be better than standing around waiting for one of us to be next.”

“‘And he didn’t hesitate,’” Minnie said. “‘He pushed her aside and stormed up to me. He didn’t want Meg, he didn’t want Minnie. He wanted me.’”

Meg slowly turned. Minnie stood behind her. She held the missing diary page in her hands.

“What did you say?” Meg asked.

“‘He told me to go home,’” Minnie continued. “‘He told me he would call me. He’d come to me tonight. He should be here any moment. Tom loves me. And together we’ll make them all pay.’”

“What are you reading?” T.J. snapped. “Where did you find it?”

“On the floor,” Minnie said. “It fell out of Meg’s pocket.”

The missing page from Claire’s diary. But it wasn’t the story T.J. told her earlier in the boathouse.

Tom. She called him Tom.

A horrible realization dawned on Meg.

T.J. was the one who spoke to Mr. Lawrence on the phone. He could have been lying.

T.J. had suggested they go down to the boathouse. He’d disappeared for ten minutes around the time Vivian was killed.

T.J. had been to the house before. He knew it better than anyone.

T.J., who knew enough about boats to have stolen the radio.

T.J. was unaccounted for during the time Nathan and Kenny must have been murdered. He was strong enough to kill them both, and athletic enough to get there and back without anyone knowing.

T.J., who carried the salad to the table that night. T.J., who conveniently slept on the sofa. T.J., who suggested they search the house and who made sure he was separated from Meg when Gunner was shot.

T. J. Fletcher. Thomas Jefferson Fletcher, as Minnie had mentioned earlier.

“Tom,” Meg said out loud.

T.J.’s head snapped toward her. “Huh?”

“Thomas Jefferson.” Meg backed away from him. “That’s your full name, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. But no one’s called me Tom since I was like six.”

“Oh my God.”

“What? What’s wrong?” T.J.’s brows pinched together over his nose. He looked utterly confused. “What is Minnie reading?”

“Meg,” Minnie said, her voice breathless. “What is this?”

“The missing page from Claire’s diary.” Meg took a few steps toward the still smoldering body of Kumiko, facing T.J., keeping the discarded gun in her line of sight. “It was you,” she said. Her voice pounded in her chest. “It was you all along.”

T.J. spread his hands out. “Meg, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She swallowed hard and tried to calm herself. She was going to need all of her wits if she was going to get out of the current situation. She had the keys in her hand—a means of escape. All she and Minnie had to do was get to the boathouse and she’d figure out a way to get the boat moving. They could make it to Roche Harbor, she knew they could. She just needed to get to the gun....

“Meg?” T.J. looked genuinely confused.

“You lied to me about what happened that night,” Meg said. “That’s the missing page from Claire’s diary. I found it upstairs in the garbage with the keys. Where you put them.”

“Meg,” T.J. said with a shake of his head. “I didn’t. I swear to God I didn’t.”

“You lied.”

“Baby, listen to me. You know me. You know I didn’t do this.”

Meg ignored him. “You tore out the last page of the diary so no one would know the truth. Maybe you killed her, too.”

Meg’s eyes locked onto his. She saw a moment of confusion pass over his face, as if he couldn’t quite get what she was implying. Then his eyes shifted. It was just an instant. A flit of his pupils away from Meg’s face. But she knew immediately what he was looking at.

The gun.

Meg was closer. She dropped the lantern, letting it clank across the tiled floor, then spun around and plucked the gun off the ground. She whipped her arm around and held the gun extended, pointed straight at T.J.

He’d taken a few steps toward her, but froze as soon as she aimed the gun at him.

“Meg,” he said. “Don’t do this. You have to trust me.”

“Uh-huh,” Meg said. She shuffled back toward Minnie. “Sure.”

“What are you doing?” Minnie squeaked. “Meg, what are you doing?”

Meg set her jaw. She felt hurt, betrayed. T.J. had been playing her all along. “It’s him, Minnie. Don’t you get it?”

“T.J.?”

“No, the guy standing behind him.” Was she really that dumb?

“That’s not possible,” Minnie said.

T.J.’s eyes were pleading. “Minnie, tell her. Tell her what happened on Homecoming night.”

“I—” Minnie stopped. “I don’t remember.”

“Goddammit, Meg,” T.J. said. “That diary page is a fake. I swear I told you the truth.”

Meg wasn’t buying it. He’d been playing her since the beginning. “Do I look stupid to you?”

“Not even a little.”

Meg nodded at Minnie. “Mins, pick up the lantern.”

“But—”

“Do it!”
She was tired of Minnie’s arguing. This wasn’t the time. Minnie jumped and scurried across the foyer to retrieve the lantern. “Good, now get behind me.”

“Meg,” T.J. said. “You know me. You know me better than anyone.” He took a step closer to them.

“Don’t move!” Meg barked. She cupped the handle of the gun with both hands. She was shaking.
Come on, Meg
. She needed to focus on keeping her hands steady.

T.J. was stronger and faster than the two of them combined, but she had the weapon. Could she use it?

This wasn’t the T.J. she knew, or thought she knew. He’d killed nine people, maybe more. And he’d kill Minnie and her, too, if Meg didn’t stop him. She’d do whatever she had to do to protect herself and Minnie. In her heart, she knew what that meant.

T.J. shook his head. “Someone’s manipulating us. I think you were right. There’s someone else in the house.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Think about it,” he said. “Why would I be killing people? I had no connection to Claire. Nothing.”

Meg started to move backward down the hall. “Minnie, head for the kitchen. Stay behind me.”

“I’m in the diary too, remember? Why would I be in there if I was behind all this?”

“You could have planted it. Written it yourself to throw us off.”

“That barely makes sense.”

“Then who, T.J., huh?” She couldn’t think logically. All she could focus on was saving herself and Minnie. “Kumiko was right. There’s no one else in the house.”

“Meg,” Minnie started. She stood right at Meg’s shoulder.

“What?”

“Meg, I need to tell you something.”

Minnie’s voice was so calm, so serious. That was a rarity. Meg glanced at her, taking her eyes off T.J. for an instant.

Only an instant, but T.J. took the opportunity to lunge for the gun.

Minnie screamed.

Meg could just hear her over the gunshot.

THIRTY FOUR

T.J. WHIRLED. HIS BODY SEEMED TO PIVOT OF ITS
own accord, as if the force of the bullet striking him in the chest swung his entire being around. He staggered away from Meg, just a few limping steps, with his back to her. She heard him groan, then he collapsed to his knees and flopped face-first onto the white tile floor.

Meg stood frozen. She still held the gun in both hands, her arms outstretched. Her whole body felt tense, like every single muscle was engaged. Minnie’s shrieks seemed to come from far away, muffled and dampened. All Meg could hear was the pounding of her own heart.

She’d shot him. She’d shot the boy she’d been in love with for as long as she could remember.

You had to
, Meg told herself.
He killed everyone. He would have killed you, too.

Meg forced herself to believe it. She had no choice.

“You …,” Minnie panted. “You shot him.”

“Yeah.”

“Why did you shoot him?”

“I had to.” She did, didn’t she? She was protecting Minnie, protecting herself. She
had
to shoot T.J. She didn’t have a choice. Right?