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“Liam.” The word was out of my mouth before I had even formed a fully coherent thought. He stopped, his red baseball cap bowed between Fisher’s shoulder and Kevin’s, but he said nothing.
He’d been on the beach until a few minutes before the fog rolled in, and then he’d taken off with Kevin. Kevin, who was the only one of our friends not present.
“Where were you?” I asked. “Where’s Kevin?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I lost him in the fog.”
Pete stopped rocking at the sound of his voice. I looked back and forth between the two of them, my skin tingling with sudden suspicion. Something was going on between them. I remembered something, but whatever it was hovered on the edge of being known.
“Where did you go when you left the beach?” I asked.
Liam laughed, a sharp, bleating sound. “We went to the Thirsty Swan to look for chips and salsa, which we found, but when we came back out, I lost him in the fog. Is there a problem?”
Dorn’s eyes slid back and forth from me to Liam. He sucked his teeth and narrowed his eyes.
“Then where’s Kevin now?” I asked, my knees quaking. “Why isn’t he here?”
“I don’t know.” Liam snorted. “Jeez, Rory. What’s with the third degree?”
The whole time he was talking he was moving toward the door. People parted to let him through, clearly not grasping what I thought was obvious. Liam was scared. I could see it in his eyes. He was trying to act casually indignant, but he was vibrating with fear. Dorn, finally, stepped in front of him, effectively blocking his escape.
“Rory, what are you getting at?” Tristan asked. “What did he do?”
“There’s something weird going on with him and Pete,” I said, and then it hit me. I looked over my shoulder at Joaquin. “Yesterday, when Liam and I came here, he freaked when we thought Pete was about to wake up. And the other day, at the bridge, Pete turned around and left as soon as he saw Liam. They’re hiding something.”
“It’s a little thin, Rory,” Bea said.
“But he did jump at the chance to leave the beach when Kevin asked, and where the hell is Kevin now?” Joaquin put in.
Tristan’s face turned hard. “Where’s Kevin, Liam?”
“I told you, I don’t know! Why don’t you call him and find out?” he said, gesturing at Tristan’s radio.
“I think I will.” Joaquin lifted the walkie-talkie to his lips and pressed it to speak. “Kevin? You there, buddy? Over.”
He released the button. Nothing but a low, distant hum of static. Everyone eyed Liam, who was rapidly turning white.
“Anyone seen Kevin? Over,” Joaquin asked.
Silence.
“Dorn,” Tristan said. “Lock him up.”
Liam made a move like he was going to bolt, but there was no getting around Dorn, whose massive hands came down on his shoulders and dragged him backward.
“No. You can’t do this!” Liam shouted. “I have rights.” He looked around desperately. “Don’t I? Don’t I have rights?”
With one swift motion, Fisher had the door of the second cell open. He held it while Dorn tossed Liam inside and then closed it with a clang. Liam practically threw himself at the bars. Bea glanced around at the crowd. Everyone was looking disturbed or unsure or murderous or a combination of the three.
“Maybe I should clear the room?” she suggested.
“Good idea,” Tristan said.
Bea managed to gather everyone back through the door and into the hallway, herding them up like cattle. When the door closed behind her, only Tristan, Dorn, Krista, Joaquin, and I were left. Liam’s pleas fell silent. He sat down on the cot. The bed squeaked beneath his weight, and he leaned his head against the bars, scowling across the way at Pete.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” he said.
Pete was as still as stone.
