“Have you got her tracker?” Vale asks Cyn.
Sanderson inhales sharply. “You put a tracker on my daughter.”
“No,” Kota’s mask is roaring in rage, and I know underneath, his teeth are bared in a hideous smile. “I put a tracker in her.”
“Yes, we all have them,” Cyn says, looking at his phone. “It’s heading to the cabin.”
“Let’s go.” Vale says darkly.
Instead of heading to the front of the house, we go to the back where, deep in our new shed is a black, chunky car that looks like every other black chunky car, except all the windows are blacked out.
“I’m coming,” Sanderson says and climbs in.
Vale shrugs.
I feel myself sinking to new levels of rage and fury the longer I think about it. Why does this killer have so many lives? Clearly, serial killer Marrow has mixed up his serials, but I promise that this is his last life and his biggest mistake.
Blood lust pounds in my head.
Sanderson’s phone rings.
“He says he knows her,” Pix says. “Meg left a Morse code note in the secret place.”
“You know where we’re heading?” Sanderson growls.
“The camp. I’m right behind you.”
I slowly turn my head towards Sanderson. This fucking nest of serial killers is going to come in handy tonight.
“They say like attracts like,” Kota murmurs. “He’s going to find out.”
I pull out some weapons and hold them out to Sanderson. He studies them and then selects a pair of knuckle dusters and a particularly sharp butterfly knife. Funny, I would have pegged him for a blunt instrument killer.
“We got the wrong people,” Cyn says abruptly. “It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
I consider it. “That leaves only betas, then.”
“Yes, exactly. Which one of them?” Vale murmurs. “Quincy, the people pleaser. Kendall had the obsessive compulsive disorder, and Justin was the weirdo bug-obsessed possible jumper.”
“What do you know about Marrow?” Sanderson asks, turning around from the passenger seat to stare at us.
We’re silent for a long time.
“He always does the same signature, even when he tries to hide it by doing something else, he has to do that one thing. It’s like…he can’t help it,” I say bleakly.
“Obsessive compulsive disorder,” Vale growls out.
“It’s Kendall,” Kota says with a growl.
I flex my shoulders as Vale flies down the road, going faster and faster. A motorbike catches up and rides beside us. He turns his head and watches us through the window. Vale presses the button for the window to come down and makes a circling motion and points straight ahead.
Pix accelerates and takes off, roaring up the road, disappearing from view.
Tension climbs into my body, getting stronger and stronger. I count the seconds, and when we get close, start deliberately unclenching my muscles and let my head fall into the zone.
“Ready?” Vale asks unnecessarily.
“Always,” Kota says, and I know under that screaming mask, he’s smiling widely.
