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I want to tell himI fucking know that, you dweeb,but can’t.
“Fortunately for my purposes, whoever put this house in also put in a very convenient room in the back.” He takes me through a garage packed with boxes stacked on top of each other. I catch glimpses of beer, wine, whiskey. He yanks me in through a door at the far end and my breath comes in faster, hitching up my chest.
It’s the room Lesley described. There’s a cot on the right, a bucket in the corner, and a drain in the very middle. It’s stained and rusted dark brown, like blood, but I think it’s probably just from the salty ocean air. This place must’ve been intended to clean floodwater out in the event of a major storm, but the Cask guys use it like a fucking torture dungeon.
The TV mounted in the corner plays an episode ofRugrats.
Malcolm shoves me onto the cot and takes off my gag. I sigh and lick my dry lips, glaring at him as he steps back. I want to scream at him, but what will that accomplish?
“Can you please untie my wrists?” I ask, barely holding back all the nasty things I want to call him.
“I would if it were up to me, but I have orders from above.” His serious face darkens and he glances at the door. His voice drops nearly to a whisper. “There’s someone here who wants to talk to you. Listen, Kaye, I just wanted to say, this wasn’t my idea. Even I can tell this shit’s going too far, but he’s panicking. Whatever Emilio did really stirred him up.”
“Who’s here? Who wants to talk to me?”
He grimaces and walks to the door. “You’ll see. I’m just saying, this wasn’t my decision. That’s all.” It’s like he’s trying to find absolution, and if he expects to get any from me, he shouldn’t even bother. He hurt my friend, convinced Terrence to become a traitor, and now he’s throwing me to the wolves. Screw that guy.
Malcolm disappears out the door. He leaves it ajar behind him, and I stand, hesitantly moving toward it. I could run, make a break for it. Saint Parras is crazy, but it’s still a legitimate school. Even here, a girl running around screaming about getting kidnapped will raise some eyebrows.
But where would I go like this? The gag’s gone, but my wrists are still tied behind my back, and Terrence did a good job on the knots. They’re tight, but not painful. I pace next to the cot, trying to decide what the hell I’m going to do, replaying the last hour in my head.
Terrence found me wandering the beach. I thought he’d been sent by Emilio to bring me back, but when he grabbed me and wrenched my wrists behind my back, apologizing the whole time, and shoved the gag into my mouth, I realized something worse was happening. In my panic over this new twist, I forgot about what I overheard in Dean Wotherspoon’s townhouse.
But now it’s coming back.
Footsteps echo nearby and the door creaks open. I look over and step back, heart racing, as the dean himself steps into the room. He’s sweating and looks tired, like he hasn’t slept for ages. His dress shirt is dark under his arms and his khakis are rolled at the ankles. His flip-flops slap against the concrete as he steps into the room and stares at me.
“I thought you’d look more like her.” He frowns at me and I keep backing away until I bump against the wall. “But you don’t, do you?”
This man murdered my sister.
This is him, the man I came here for, the real villain in my story, and I don’t know what to do. I’m shaking, trembling. He killed my sister and now he’s the reason I’m stuck in this place with my wrists tied behind my back.
“What are you doing here, Dean Wotherspoon?” I use his title to try to remind him that he’s not some society asshole playing pranks against a rival house. He’s an administrator, a serious adult with real responsibility, and this is going way too far.
But if he knows he’s gone over the deep end, he doesn’t seem ashamed.
“You were in my house earlier today, when Emilio visited. I understand he didn’t know you’d followed him over, and it’s a real shame you chose today to act like your sister.”
I click my teeth together like he just punched me in the stomach. “What do you mean, like my sister?”
He waves a hand. “Everyone knows she followed Emilio around ceaselessly. She even wrote that stupid article about his smuggling activities. Do you have any idea how much damage control I had to take on after the accident because of her?” He shakes his head, pacing, hands behind his back. “It wasn’t supposed to happen. You have to understand that. Her fall was an accident and I didn’t mean for her to get hurt. But she’s dead and now I’m dealing with the consequences.”
“You killed her. You admitted it in that recording.”
His eyes snap up and meet mine. He looks pitiable, pathetic. “I thought I was helping.”
“What happened, Dean Wotherspoon? What really happened? How did my sister die?”
He stops pacing and takes a steadying breath. Slowly, he tilts his head, and closes his eyes like he’s remembering that night in detail. “I was out for a walk. You saw me on one of my walks, didn’t you? I like to hike around the island, and that night I thought I was alone. Students don’t wander the forest after sundown, but when I heard yelling, I had to go investigate. I hurried up the trail and found your sister and Emilio, engaged in some kind of altercation. To this day, I still don’t know what it was really about, but your sister’s intensity frightened me.
“She was screaming at him. She kept saying that she was the only person that cared for him, and that she was going to ruin him and break him, and he kept telling her that it was over, that she couldn’t come around the house anymore. It sounded like he was breaking up with her. She snapped and ran at him and dug her fingers into his throat. He seemed surprised and tried to make her stop, but she wouldn’t, only kept squeezing and thrashing.
“I ran over to help. I thought she was going to kill him, but when I got close, both of them looked over in surprise. She stepped back, releasing his neck, and I grabbed at her. I was trying to pull her away from him, but it was dark and I was out of breath and she was flailing around. Instead of away from the cliff’s edge, she yanked from my grip and slipped.
“Emilio tried to save her. He dove, nearly fell himself, and grabbed for her arm. It was lucky he didn’t go over with her. But he missed and all I heard was her scream as she disappeared, plunging down into the water.”
He finishes his story and stares down at his hands like he can still feel their grip on my sister’s wrist.
