He reached for her hand again and squeezed. “We need to keep Margaux close. She’s in danger, and whoever is hunting her isn’t afraid to get their hands dirty with anyone in her periphery. Jennifer and Christine are at risk, too.”
“Do you think we should let the others know about Owen? What do you think will happen now?”
He dropped her hand and scrubbed both over his face, longing to wipe away the confusion as easily as the crust from his eyes. “The Thomases will make an announcement soon. I can’t ask anyone to stay.”
“But you’d like to? Are you worried the killer might slip out?”
He shrugged. He wasn’t sure what he was most scared of. The killer remaining to take care of loose ends? Or the murderer disappearing again and leaving Daniel and Emma forever in the dark about what really happened to Liz.
“I think being here is my last chance,” she murmured. “If I leave now, I’ll never learn the truth. I don’t think I can live without it anymore.”
He wouldn’t want her to. She deserved to have clarity so she could move forward with her life. He wouldn’t use her as bait. He’d keep her close and keep her safe.
Light caught in the side of his vision. Squatting, he squinted at the soft ground. Half-buried in the dirt, he spotted it. He reached for a handkerchief in his breast pocket, a throwback he article he kept because his dad had always done the same. With the white cloth covering his fingers, he brushed away the dried mud. Bullet casing. “Found it,” he said.
“Really?” she gasped.
He wasn’t sure if her reaction expressed relief or concern. But another clue was precious in a case with few leads, and he was grateful. He snapped a few photos of the scene before he recovered the casing. He bagged the evidence and would submit it for testing. “Remember. Act normal. Don’t say a word about what happened to you.”
She made the zipped lips gesture.
He was glad for the bond and trust between them. They’d need each other. Now more than ever.
Eight
Emma had never been a big fan of board games. Growing up, when she had free time, she preferred to read, getting lost in a great book. She could escape her ordinary life as half of a double act and traverse the world as an independent woman. She’d never wanted separation from her sister but enjoyed those stolen moments of living out another version of herself and her life. Until she lost her sister and then she hated herself for ever wanting to be alone.
Spending the next several hours in her bunk with Margaux and Daniel, playing round after round of Clue, however, she started to understand the appeal. The company was friendly, and many laughs were shared. She needed the levity.
Would she ever forget the anguish and grief in the Thomases’ faces after learning the terrible tragedy of their son’s death? Her parents hadn’t spoken or raged after losing Liz. They’d bottled everything up, becoming almost as silent as the grave. In the years that followed, they became even more shut up, closing in on themselves.
Emma had done the same, shying away from any discussion about her sister until she moved to a place where no one knew Liz. Watching the Thomases process the news, she wasn’t glad for her parents’ quiet acceptance in the face of such passionate denial. Instead, she marveled at how many different ways humans responded to the unthinkable.
“I am ready to make my determination,” Margaux announced. “Miss Scarlet in the conservatory by garrote.”
Daniel met Emma’s gaze, his mouth slack for a brief moment.
“Well, that’s a word you don’t hear every day,” Emma said, forcing a chuckle. “Your education must have been top-notch.”
Margaux blushed. “I mean rope.”
The screen door opened, rusty hinges squealing.
“Are you seriously still playing that?” Christine asked, entering the bunk with Jennifer.
Margaux turned red.
Through her experience in helping teens, Emma had witnessed first-hand the dangerous outcomes to a person’s physical and mental health due to a poor sense of self. She wanted to lift Margaux up or at least stop her constant put-downs. She’d start with redirection.
Emma shrugged. “Sure. It’s been fun. I haven’t played a board game in years. Where have you two been today?”
“Oh, you know. Here, there, and everywhere,” Jennifer replied, adding in a tense laugh and swinging her arms in large, sweeping gestures. Her arm hit an empty bunk. “Ouch.” She winced.
An object landed on the ground with a jingling thud.
“Are you okay?” Emma asked, assessing Jennifer’s self-deprecating grin.
A metallic glint caught Emma’s vision. On her knees, she crawled over to the bunk and reached under the bed. Her fingers slipped over the dusty, pine floorboards. Her nose itched, and her eyes watered. She closed her grip around the object and pulled it free.
