“Holy hell,” a boy said.
“It’s Jack,” Mariana said with certainty. “The boat boy.” Without waiting for either of them to react, she emerged from behind the shed at a jog. “Jack!”
Claire and Reyva followed.
Jack had halted at the trailhead. Staring at the burnt Lake House, he looked as stunned as if he’d been whacked in the face with a baseball bat. He was the flash of orange she’d seen—he was wearing a bright orange T-shirt with a coffee cup bearing the wordsMainely Brew. He also wore khaki shorts and carried a small gray backpack.
Mariana barreled toward the trail, snagging his arm as she passed. “Jack! Great to see you. Thought of you often. Missed you terribly. We’ve got to go.”
Twisting out of her grip, he didn’t tear his eyes from the burned-down building. “What happened? Are you okay? Where’s—”
Reyva reached him next. “Don’t know. Already burned whenwe got here. Dead body in the woods. Guy with gun, trying to kill us. Got to gonow.”
He held up his hands as if in surrender. “Wait. Stop. What?”
He didn’t know, Claire thought.Of course he didn’t—he wouldn’t have left us here if he knew any of it. But she suddenly realized what that meant: if he hadn’t heard any news about the fire... then the other kids—all the campers and the counselors—hadn’t escaped.
Claire clutched her side as she jogged behind Reyva. She’d never run this much. Her throat hurt from too much panting and too little water. She didn’t care how pathetic she looked or sounded. “Please, help us.”
Thatgot through to him.
“Of course. Are you all right? What do you need?”
“Your boat,” Mariana called over her shoulder. She was already heading down the trail with long gazelle-like strides, her hair streaming behind her.
“We need to get out of here,” Claire said. “Go someplace safe. Go to the police.” They needed someone who could do something about the dead program director, the burned-down house, and the two dangerous men in the woods. And they needed a car, bus, train, any way home. At this point, she’d even accept a prop plane. Or, statistically worse, a motorcycle.
Jack began jogging down the trail with them. He kept shooting glances behind them, even after the view of the Lake House was blocked by trees. Claire, on the other hand, was busy watching the woods on either side of them.
It was entirely possible they weren’t the only ones to have heard the boat.
She wished she hadn’t had that thought.
Either man could be waiting for us, she thought.It could be a trap.
She had to tell the others her worry. She didn’t want to. She wanted to be wrong—to be overly and unrealistically anxious, like Priya and Angie and her parents and her teachers and her doctors said she was. She wanted to believe they were running to safety, and they’d jump in the boat and motor away, leaving all this behind them.
“What if...,” Claire began.
Reyva sidestepped a root. “Don’t say it.”
“If Claire has something to say, let her say it,” Mariana said. “She’s been right nearly every time since we’ve gotten here.”
I have?Claire thought. That was a first.
Jack asked plaintively, “What did you mean ‘dead body in the woods’? Who? How?”
Claire saw a hint of blue water through the trees. Either they kept running full tilt to the dock and hoped that speed was enough, or... “Someone else could have heard the boat too.”
“Yeah, thought you were going to say that.” Reyva halted, put her hands on her knees, and stared through the trees as if she could clear a path with just the intensity of her gaze. “Okay, we can do this. Stay low. Sneak to the shore. As little sound as possible.”
Jack said, “I don’t think—”
“You don’t need to think,” Reyva told him. “Or talk.”
Mariana took his hand and patted it. “Stick with me. We’ll explain later. As soon as it’s safe.” She tugged him down, and they all crouched low as they walked down the trail.
“Just tell me: Who’s dead?”
