I consider calling the police, but I think of the threatening note Judy got, warning her not to go to the cops. I immediately picture squad cars storming the gates, sirens blaring. Megan would hear them coming from a mile away.
By the time they got to her, she could have already hurt Sadie and Judy. We can’t risk it. We can’t alert the cops unless we absolutely have to.
“But I can’t let you go in there alone?—”
“No buts.” I take Coco from his arms and walk to the balcony doors. “It’s easier for one person to sneak into the truck than both of us. It could be packed with supplies with enough space for only one person to hide. Also, it’s not going to help if we both get caught, is it?”
He pushes himself upright. “Fine.” Suddenly, despite the bloodshot eyes, he looks sober. “I’ll try and find another way in.”
“Yeah. Once inside, I’ll do my best to update you. If anything goes wrong, you’ll have no choice but to reach out to the police. To hell with what that note said.” I pause. “Do you think it was from her? The photo of Sadie and everything.”
“I’m sure of it. There’s something else you don’t know.” He covers his face with both hands. “I asked her to send me proof that Sadie is alive, and she asked for money. I’ve been sending her thousands every month.”
Blood drains from my face. “You what?”
“I needed to know that Sadie was okay.”
Despite renewed anger churning in my belly, I let that go for now. “Right. Well, we need to focus on what happens tomorrow. Alice said deliveries arrive at the camp at ten-thirty like clockwork. If the truck takes twenty minutes to get there from the store, they must start loading around ten. That’s our window, when the truck is packed and the driver’s almost ready to leave. I’ll slip in just before they close the doors.”
I hug Coco to me, kissing her head. “Alice said there’s usually only one driver delivering the goods, which makes things less complicated.”
Gabriel nods, a little too slowly, then stands up. “I really don’t?—”
“This is going to happen with or without your help.” I meet his gaze head on. “I suggest that tonight, you shower, sleep, and sober up. Tomorrow you will start making things right.”
When Gabriel leaves to take a shower, I quietly go to my room, pick up some paper and a pen, and start writing a long overdue letter.
It’s time for me to tell my own story.
FORTY-ONE
Gabriel looks sober this morning, albeit quieter than usual, and is hyper-focused as he slides behind the wheel.
The plan could fail and blow up in our faces, but I cling to the possibility of success like my life depends on it. Within the hour, I could be inside the camp’s gates.
I have my phone and will be ready to call the police if things go wrong. I also intend on taking videos and photos, sending them off to expose Megan Hale and anyone else involved in what happened to Sadie. I even plan on going live on social media, so I can have witnesses to the ugly truth behind the camp’s doors.
As Gabriel pulls out of the parking spot and drives toward the Townstead Wholesale store, I pull out my phone. I navigate to the local news website and scan the headlines, searching for anything about Gabriel’s dead PI. I barely slept last night thinking about what happened to him. Then I see it, and the pit of my stomach falls.
LOCAL MAN FOUND DEAD IN APPARENT SUICIDE ATTEMPT IN RESTAURANT PARKING LOT.
51-year-old Lawrence Summers was found dead in his vehicle outside Lobster Grill restaurant.
The next words of the article make my blood run cold.
He died from a single, apparently self-inflicted gunshot wound. A handgun was recovered from the scene.
The air freezes in my lungs and my vision starts to narrow, cutting out everything else around me. I reread the words and let them register in my mind one by one.
“Gabriel,” I ask, “is there a chance that the PI committed suicide?”
Gabriel’s jaw tightens. “You mean that he shot himself? I don’t think so. His hands were empty, resting in his lap. I didn’t see a gun anywhere near him.”
It can only mean one thing. The official story is a complete lie. Whoever did it found a way to twist what really happened, erasing the truth to cover their tracks.
“Why do you ask?” Gabriel throws me a glance.
“Just wondering.” I put away my phone, clasp my hands inside my lap, and stare straight ahead at the road in front of us, ignoring the trickle of sweat at the back of my neck.
