Using the flannel to wipe away my tears again, I head over to David’s body to search the same places. His hair is nearly shaved to his scalp, so I’m able to rule that out quickly before checking his hands. Again, nothing.
What does he mean by the place that got me into this mess?
I look back down at David and notice there’s a darker red patch staining the chest of his Hawaiian shirt. I yank the shirt open while whispering my apologies to him for having to do this. I didn’t know him well, but he deserves better than having his body mutilated for Pierce’s amusement.
There! Right above his heart are newly placed stitches that spell out T.K.S…my initials…Teagan Kaitlyn Shepherd.
Everything around me blurs as I fall to my knees.
“How the hell did my heart get me into this mess?” I shout, shoving my hands into my hair. I can’t do this. I can’t rip him open.
The speaker crackles again above me. “Are you not doing this because you love your friends? How does that not prove that your silly little heart led you right into my grasp?” the voice says. “I expect it won’t be the last time your little heart gets you into trouble while you’re my guest.”
The hum of the speaker goes silent again, leaving me alone to wrestle with my torn emotions.
I’m doing this to save my friends—but also to save myself.
“I’m so sorry, David,” I whisper as I crawl towards his body and pull the knife out of my pocket. “Please forgive me.”
Using the tip of the knife, I pluck at the stitches, loosening his flesh, giving myself ample space to fit my fingers into. Though he’s been dead for about an hour now, blood still runs freely out of his body as I dig around for a key. I’m sobbing now in earnest, my tears mixing with his blood as it pours out of him.
I’ve been searching for so long that I start to wonder if Pierce is playing with me, that maybe there isn’t even a key, and this is just another pointless task to show that he’s in complete control here. I’m just about to give up when my fingers finally brush against something hard. I know before I pull it out of David’s chest that it’s the key.
As soon as I have it safely in my palm, I rush back to the dirty bathroom and hurl my guts out in the toilet, leaving a trail of David’s blood dripping behind me. My body shakes uncontrollably as I empty the contents of my stomach. When the heaving subsides, I get to my feet and rinse my hands in the sink, watching the blood on my hands disappear down the drain. Thank goodness for working plumbing in this decrepit lighthouse. Too bad the water can’t rinse away my sins.
I’m the reason Amber and David are dead.
I need to get to Windermere before I’m forced to do something even worse. I rush back to the room with the chest as soon as the violent aftershocks of the adrenaline coursing through my veins stop. My handsare shaking, making it difficult to insert the key. Once I do, I turn the latch and throw the chest open to see what I’ve just sold a fraction of my soul for.
Inside are several boxes of water, foil packs of tuna, granola bars, some fresh fruit, and a large bag of trail mix. It’s not the medium-rare steak I was hoping for, but it’s better than nothing. I grab an apple and nearly choke as I inhale it. Juice drip down my chin, and I hastily wipe them away before chugging down one of the boxes of water. The granola bar goes down just as painfully. I’m not sure how long it’s been since I last ate. The more I consume, the less hollow my stomach feels.
Now that I’ve got some supplies, I need to get out of here before Travis circles back looking for me. I grab the duffel bag I found upstairs and shove all the food and water into it until there is nothing left in the chest but a long, black velvet bag. Lifting the bag carefully to inspect it, I find a machete inside and smile for the first time in what feels like days. I tuck the table leg into the bag with my provisions, pat the pocket knife in my pants to make sure it’s still there, and swing the machete in the air a few times.
This will do perfectly.
It’s time for me to save my friends—and hunt down my prey.
Chapter nineteen
The ocean breeze hits my face the moment I step outside. I’ve never been so happy to feel the sunlight on my skin. The damp mist hits my face as the air stirs around me with the breeze. The forest is fighting its own fight, its natural perfume refusing to be ignored, as the strong scent of the forest nearby weaves and bobs against the pungent aroma of the sea.
I take a deep, steadying breath as I recenter myself and my surroundings. It’s the first real breath of air I’ve had in hours that doesn’t have the underlying scent of death tinged in it. The air smells like a mix of salt and brine, making me homesick for the comfort and safety of my everyday life back in North Carolina.
Not that I can ever expect to have a normal life after this.
I grip the machete tightly in my hand, and I take a quick lap around the lighthouse in case there’s something else out here I can use. It’s just your run-of-the-mill lighthouse, though. Dead plants and overgrown weeds line the outside, further confirming that this place hasn’t been used in months, possibly years. Something catches my eye in the dirt under my foot. I bend down to inspect it. It looks like blood. Fresh blood.
Raising my machete, I follow the trail back around the lighthouse. It leads me to a dumpster tucked into the corner that I somehow missed before.
Teagan, you have got to pay better attention to your surroundings if you’re going to get out of here alive.
Something in the dumpster moves when I tap the side with the handle of my machete. Like the fool I am, I risk opening the lid to take a look when I hear a muted moan. What if it’s Quinn? Travis could have tried to kill him like he murdered David and thrown him in the dumpster. What if it’s Travis, and Quinn attacked him first?
I have to know who’s in there, and who’s still out there hunting for me.
The hair on the back of my neck stands upright as I peer into the dumpster. My eyes take a moment to adjust to what I’m seeing, but once I do, I slam the top closed with a loud bang. The noise ricochets through the air. Great, another damn homing beacon to lead Travis right toward me.
Ahmed lets out a pitiful shout from inside the dumpster. I should leave him and run. But I can’t. I don’t think I’m capable of leaving a person to die alone, even if that person has been tasked with hunting me down and ending my life.
