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Together.

In a lunchbox.

Left beneath a scarecrow.

The Keeper wasn't taunting us anymore.

He was telling a story.

The wrong story.

I looked at Mace.

"What are you thinking?"

He never took his eyes off the lunchbox.

"He wants us focused on Emma."

"So do I."

"No."

He slowly looked up.

"He wants us so focused on Emma..."

"...that we stop asking who put her in Cabin Nine."

The realization hit all of us at once.

We'd been asking the wrong question.

Not—

Who was Emma?

But—

Who hid her?

Sheriff Tate slowly removed his hat.

"I know one thing."

"What?"

"There weren't any empty cabins that summer."

Everyone turned.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

He looked toward the dark outline of Camp Eagle River in the distance.

"Every cabin had campers."

"Except one."