Hunt’s focus was on the chessboard. He wasn’t looking at her. Ana suddenly became aware of the weight still in her hand. All she needed to do was walk up and smack the weight into his head, take his radio, and call for help.
This would be over.
She felt nauseous at the thought. She wasn’t a killer—she’d never hurt anyone in her life. Could she really do this? Would she be physically able to hit him? To kill him? Even as she thought it, a brief, unwelcome image of Caden flashed into her thoughts—standing on the line, begging not to go. Maybe she was capable of more than she wanted to admit.
“But then, there was the fire. I got a call and went straight to the hospital…and waited. For so long…waiting for them to tell me it wasover. My boy was gone. Time of death: 9:58 p.m.” Hunt picked up the knight and cradled it in the palm of his hand. There was an edge to his voice. “Murder-suicide—that’s what they called it. They said Karl started the fire deliberately, that he’d wanted to die and take the basketball team down with him. They called him amonster, a killer…my sweet boy. I tried to tell them that they had it wrong; that for whatever reason he lit that fire, Karl wasn’t suicidal, and he would never, ever have done anything to hurt anyone else. Not deliberately. I tried to tell them, but no one would believe me. It was easier to make Karl the villain rather than look at what really happened that night.”
Ana watched the top of his head, the side of his profile, his neck, taut with emotion. She felt her muscles tense. Her hands were sweating. She tried to imagine it, tried to picture herself stepping forward, raising the weight up high.
Hunt was lost in his own thoughts: “…could have given up. I was tempted to. I could have ended it all then and gone to be with my wife and son. But the one thing that kept me going was the thought that my boy’s memory was tainted, vilely torn apart by lies. I had to prove his innocence. I had to show the world what really happened that night. I had to find the truth. For Karl and for my wife. For Rosa.”
Rosa. The Motel Rosa. R O S A. Ana almost laughed. So that was the reason he’d picked this place and dragged them all the way out here. The reason he picked the code for the hatch. It was named after his dead wife. Great.
All the pieces were finally dropping into place.Only the truth will set you free.Handwritten in the anniversary card. It made sense at last. They were the guilty. Each harboring a dark secret from that fateful night. A secret that could free Karl Hunt from the blame of deliberately killing and injuring his classmates. A secret like her own.
“So how did you do it? How did you find out who was guilty?”Keep him talking,Ana told herself. Keep him distracted. It wouldn’t be too hard. Hunt was making the most of his villain’s monologue. He must have spent a few too many nights eating ramen alone in the dark bunker.
“It’s easy if you know where to look. I spent months hacking into everything, digging my way through people’s private lives—their social media, their bank accounts. Everything from police records to the La Cholla school system. Privacy is an outmoded concept these days. There was one place where I found some delightfully sordid, nasty little secrets. Indeed, the school psychologist’s reports were interesting reading…very interesting.”
Of course. Suddenly it all made sense. She had been right all along—Dankmanwasthe source of their guilty secrets. Maybe he hadn’t done it deliberately, but at the end of the day, was there a difference? They had trusted him and he had let them down. She hadn’t been the only one to confess her “guilt.” All seven of them must have had something to say—something Hunt found when he hacked into Dankman’s files and read everything.Everything.
Shame washed over her.This man had read her confession.He knew that she had led her own brother to his death. That Danny hadn’t died because Karl started the fire—that he had died because of her stupid, arrogant belief that she knew best. Hunt knew what she was, and maybe he was right about her. Maybe she deserved every bad thing that had happened here.
Hunt’s eyes were on her—he was watching her closely. She wanted to turn away from him, not give him the satisfaction of seeing her doubt, but she didn’t move. The time for hiding was over. She had faced her worst fear and confessed to Alex, to someone she loved, and he hadforgiven her. She needed nothing from this man. She straightened, standing taller.
Alex.
Her hand tightened around the weight. She needed to distract Hunt one last time. This time she would do what had to be done. Alex was going to live. She would make sure of it.
She took a few steps towards the chessboard. The smell of smoke was more noticeable here.
“Okay, so you found out what we did. You know that we all messed up in some way a year ago. Why not just release what you found to the police or the press?”
“Oh, I wanted to. I would have liked nothing more than to send all your dirty secrets to the press. But no one would have believed me—my proof was illegally sourced; I didn’t have a neat little paper trail that would stand up in court. I was just the killer’s grieving dad, making up a bunch of lies because I couldn’t accept the truth about Karl.”
“So, you came up with the Balloon Game. You handpicked the guilty and brought us here to force us to confess.”
“I had to. I had to create irrefutable evidence, and this was the perfect way to do it.” Hunt gestured towards the wall of screens. “I have recorded confessions from each of you, acknowledging your role in what happened. Confessing to the bullying, drug dealing, and cowardice that led to the fire. Admitting that it was your own negligence and Jax Patel’s selfishness that resulted in two unnecessary deaths—deaths that weren’t caused by the fire, but by stupidity and avarice. When I release these recordings, spoken in your own words, no one can deny the truth of what really happened one year ago. My son did not kill anyone, and once I have the final confession, the big one, I will have absolute proof that my sondid not kill himself.”
“Ellis…”
“Indeed. Ellis Locke. The grand finale. I might never have found out what his secret was if I hadn’t seen his lawyer visiting him at the hospital on the day of the fire. Why would an innocent teenage boy need a lawyer? And why so soon? What was the hurry? That’s when I knew Ellis Locke had something to hide—something big. I left Ellis a special message in the anniversary card. A warning, you might say.”
“The twenty-dollar bill? That was for Ellis? I…I don’t understand…”
“No, you wouldn’t. But what matters is that Ellis will.”
He looked around, his eyes locking onto Ana’s, his expression dark.
Ana moved the weight behind her, wondering if he sensed what she had been thinking of doing, scrabbling to say something to distract him.
“So…you win. You get your confessions. Why kill us? You have what you need. Why did we have to die too? We’re just kids…”
“My son was a kid!You’re not innocent because you’re young. I had to make the stakes high, or you would have never confessed,” Hunt snapped. Instinctively, Ana backed away. His movements were becoming more erratic. She would have to act soon.
“What about the adults? What about the police who accused Karl, or the press who pushed the story that Karl was a monster? What about the custodian who locked the wrong exit doors and got off with just a reprimand?What about the school?The fire safety system completely failed and no one was held accountable. They claimed it was a faulty electrical panel—a freak equipment failure, and no one was prosecuted.No one.Why aren’t you punishing them? Why us?”
“Oh, don’t worry, Ana. They’re next. That’s the sequel.” He grinned and bent down, his hand reaching under the chessboard. This was her chance.
