The flashlight’s nimbus bobbed in front of him—and caught on a large, angular shape in the distance. Jason stopped and rubbed his eyes, trying to figure out what he was seeing. The old fire tower? No, that was in the opposite direction from where he and Tiffany had started out.
He padded a little closer, turning off the flashlight. His instincts screamed at him to stay hidden, and those instincts had served him well on the football field. When a bunch of burly guys were trying to mow you down, you had to trust and obey your gut.
To his surprise, the shape solidified into the ruins of a cabin. Just how long had he been wandering in the woods? Then he realized the structure was more basic than theSlashercabin’s family dwelling. It was little more than a shack, the roof partially caved in and splintered gray logs snarled by moss and saplings. Nowthislooked like it belonged in a horror movie, not the picturesque rustic getaway of theSlashercabin. If Freddy were here, he’d babble about hillbilly cannibals or vengeful forest witches.
Jason was much more logical. It made sense there might have been people living here before Park Services had put the forest under their protection. He grew hopeful. This sign of human settlement meant he was getting closer to the lake.
He crept past the old cabin. The trees were thick and close together, as if they’d grown to take back the land. The moonlight-dappled water beckoned closer between the narrow gaps, even as his gut told him to move quietly and keep his flashlight off.
And then he knew what his gut had been warning him about.
A crinkling noise ahead halted Jason on the spot. The sound was loud and unnatural. Nothing like the gentle sway of leaves or the forest floor crunching beneath the soles of his hiking boots. He held his breath and inched a little farther forward. Maybe it was Mikey or Tiffany.
Or maybe not. But he had to be sure.
The woods opened up on a small sandy patch by the lake’s edge. A dock swayed in the water, its weatherworn boards gray in the moonlight. Jason was stunned. He thought he knew Cedar Lake well, but he hadn’t known this was here. It would make the perfect clandestine party spot for local teens. Although he hadn’t come across any cigarette butts or empty beer bottles. Probably no one knew of this little beach’s existence, except the park rangers.
Except Russ, he thought, the back of his neck prickling.
His breath caught at the dark, crumpled shape lying across the dock. Too big to be a person, thankfully. A tarp. That had been the source of the noise he’d heard. It had likely been covering the ghostly white shape of a boat tied up at the dock.
But who had pulled the tarp aside?
The boat was simple. Two seats, a steering wheel, and an outboard motor at the back. The nameMary Loudecorated its stern in peeling paint. Some old-timer’s fishing boat, Jason guessed, parked here to avoid the more expensive docking fees at the marina to the east.
A light suddenly bobbed from inside the boat. At this distance, anyone else might have thought it was a will-o’-the-wisp, but Jason would recognize the petite figure it illuminated anywhere.
Tiffany shone her flashlight at the dashboard, peering at the dials and buttons. Thank God. He could hustle her safely back to the cabin. He just needed to persuade her to come with him.
He emerged from the trees. “Tiff.”
Tiffany shrieked in surprise. Next thing he knew, she’d whipped the paring knife out of her belt and was flashing it at him. “Get away from me!”
Wow. She’d taken his rejection much too seriously. Jason waited for his anger to flare, but it never came. He only felt bone-tired. The storm inside him had drained away. For now.
He approached, putting up his hands to show he was harmless. “Whoa! I’m not going to hurt you. I’m glad to see you, Tiff. I’ve been looking for you. What are you doing?”
Her mouth pinched like she was fighting an internal battle, and then she turned back to the dashboard, not looking at Jason. He was a little insulted she didn’t put the knife back into her belt.
“I’m trying to figure out how to start the boat. There should be cell service if we go out east to the cottages. Have you ever driven one of these?”
Dad loved only sports that were played on land, not water. ButJason climbed into the boat beside Tiffany, hanging on to the back of a seat when the boat swayed beneath his sudden weight. Tiffany’s knuckles whitened around the paring knife’s handle. He kept his distance. Not knowing Russ Meachum’s whereabouts was bad enough. He didn’t need another aggrieved person in the woods with a kitchen knife. “No, but I know enough that you need a key.”
Tiffany pounded the dashboard with her fist. “Fuck! This is theworst.”
Her lower lip quivered. Jason recognized the sign of an imminent meltdown. He’d weathered many during his time with her. “Hey—” he started, reflexively reaching out to touch her arm.
The tiny blade in her hand went up. “I meant it when I said to stay away.”
Jason took a step back, nearly stepping on a blanket piled in the boat’s stern. “Okay, okay.” He shone his flashlight around the boat. Other than the blanket, there was a tackle box that wasn’t large enough to hold anything useful. “Damn it. No oars so we can’t paddle our way there.”
At second glance, he realized it wasn’t a blanket in the stern. It seemed to be a pile of clothing, probably for cold mornings on the water. He picked up the top layer, which unfolded into a thick, gray men’s hoodie. Good. Tiffany had probably thought to seduce him in her bikini and cropped T-shirt, but he was more concerned she was cold in her scant clothes. He’d seen her shiver earlier from the dampness. She could put the hoodie on for the walk.
He held it up, and Tiffany’s eyes went so wide he could see the whites in the dim light. “What the fuck is that?” She pointed her flashlight at the object the hoodie had been hiding.
A white mask.
A plain white mask, sitting on top of a red buffalo plaid jacket. Goose bumps multiplied on the back of Jason’s neck and traveled down his arms. He quickly puddled the hoodie over the mask to avoid its accusing sightless gaze.
