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“He already did as the caretaker,” I say. “We just discussed that. When he stayed, he usually camped. The point is that I understand Nate’s a potential suspect, even if I disagree.”
“I’ll need to talk to him when we go back tomorrow.”
I wait for someone to state the obvious.
We’re not staying the night, right?
But no one says that. Garrett and Jayla and Madison keep throwing around theories while Kit tries to steer the conversation to solutions for making sure this doesn’tkeephappening. Sadie only listens. And I sit there, casting anxious glances into the forest, remembering what I saw, what I heard.
Nothing. I saw and heard nothing that couldn’t be explained.
It doesn’t matter. My gut says we should pile into the boat, and get the hell off this island. It isn’t that I’m afraid to be here. I’m afraid to let Kit and Jayla stay here if there’s a chance something is wrong, and I’m utterly terrified of having Madison here.
Maybe Sadie and Garrett can stay, take one for the team.
I might joke about that, but in spite of everything, I still care about Sadie. I don’t give a shit about Garrett, but I wouldn’t do that to his wife and kids.
I glance toward the forest, the hairs on my neck rising as the falling sun twists the semi-dark into a web of shadows. Anything could be out there. Anyone.
“Laney?” Madison whispers.
I lower my voice so only she can hear me. “We didn’t bring overnight bags.”
“We have clothing here.”
“I just think…” I glance at the forest again.
“It’s too dark to take the boat,” she says. “We can go back in the morning and talk to Nate. It’s too late to do that, and he should be in on this conversation, right?”
Kit slides along the log and leans in to whisper, “Everything okay?”
“Laney is fine, Kit,” Sadie calls from across the fire.
“Laney is not fine,” he calls back. “Laney has some sick bastard putting ritual magic trappings all over her island.”
I straighten. “I was just telling Madison that I’ll need her help making up the beds.”
“I can help with that,” Sadie says. “No rush, though. It’s a gorgeous night.”
“The wind’s picking up,” Garrett says.
“Not over here,” she says. “Now, if someone can pass me a marshmallow, I will demonstrate the proper way to char it to coal.”
I have to smile at that, and I relax, too. When I half close my eyes, I’m transported back in time to dozens of bonfires like this. We’retwelve again, and I see Jayla shifting seats constantly to avoid the smoke—it’s following me, don’t you see that?I see Kit and his friends, wrestling on the lawn and swooping in to steal marshmallows, sometimes right off the end of our sticks. Mostly, though, I see Sadie and me, huddled together, giggling and chattering, her face lit in flame and shadow as she whispers secrets she only trusts me to hear.
I look at her now, taking the marshmallow bag from Madison, her face once again lit in flame and shadow, and I can’t help smiling, in spite of everything she’s done.
“Toss one my way,” I say. “I challenge you to a charring contest. Winner is the first one to roast a guaranteed carcinogen.”
FIVE
It’s nearly ten by the time Sadie and I go inside. Kit offers to help, but she blocks him with a fresh beer and insists he enjoy the fire. After a furtive glance at me, he obliges. It’s only then that I realize why Sadie might want me alone: to tell me about her and Kit. Because this day could not possibly get any more awkward, could it?
To my relief, she doesn’t mention Kit. We remake the main bed and freshen up the other rooms, and she asks how I’m doing, what it’s like being back in the classroom post-pandemic, how exciting is it to be a published author?
“I read your book,” she says as we’re putting on fresh pillowcases, and I stiffen.
“It’s really good,” she continues. “No surprise there. You always were the one with the wild imagination.”
