The Last Time I Lied(103)

Because his presence can’t be an accident.

He’s here for a reason.

“What’s going on?” he says.

“I’d ask you the same thing,” I say, a catch in my throat. “But I think I already know.”

He’s come back for the girls.

He attacked them, locked them away, waited until the dead of night to return. A chain of events I suspect happened fifteen years ago with a different trio.

My accusation, as misguided as it was, might have been correct. Truth disguised as a lie.

I hate thinking this way. Of everyone in camp, he’s the only one I truly hoped was innocent. But the suspicion refuses to leave, as uncontrollable as my quaking, exhausted body.

I edge in front of the girls, shielding them from Theo and whatever he might try to do next. I slip a trembling hand through my flashlight’s wrist strap, securing it. Although not much of a weapon, it’ll do in a pinch. If it comes to that. I desperately hope it doesn’t.

“Miranda,” I say with as much calm as I can muster, “there’s a canoe on shore in the same place we landed the other day. Take Sasha and Krystal there as fast you can. If Sasha has trouble, you might need to carry her. Do you think you can do that?”

“Why?” Miranda says. “What’s going on?”

“Just answer the question. Yes or no?”

Miranda’s reply is streaked with fear. “Yes.”

“Good. When you get to the canoe, row across the lake. Don’t wait for me. Not even a second. Just row as fast as you can back to camp.”

Theo aims his flashlight at my face again. “Emma, maybe you should step away from the girls. Let me see if they’re hurt.”

I ignore him. “Miranda, do you understand?”

“Yes,” she says again, more forceful this time, steeling herself for the sprint.

“Good. Now go. Hurry!”

That last word—and the desperate way I say it—gets the girls moving. Miranda bolts away, all but dragging Sasha behind her. Krystal follows, slower but just as determined.

Theo makes a move to stop them, but I lunge forward, flashlight raised, threatening to strike. He freezes when I’m two feet away and drops his flashlight. He raises his hands, palms open. I don’t lower my flashlight. I need to keep him like this. Just long enough to give the girls a head start.

“Don’t you dare go after them,” I warn.

“Emma, I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Stop lying!” I shout. “You know exactly what’s happening. What did you plan to do with those girls?”

Theo’s eyes go wide. “Me? What were you going to do with them? I followed you here, Em. I watched from the Lodge as you got into that canoe and rowed across the lake.”

It’s another lie. It has to be.

“If you thought I was guilty, why didn’t you tell the police?”

“Because,” Theo says, “I wanted to be wrong.”

As did I. All that guilt I’d felt about accusing him. All that shame and remorse. It was for nothing.

“I need to know why you did it,” I say. “Both now and back then.”

“I didn’t—”

I lift the flashlight higher. Theo flinches.

“Hey, let’s talk about this,” he says. “Without the flashlight.”

“I think you had the hots for Vivian,” I tell him. “You wanted her, and she rejected you. You got mad. You made her disappear. Natalie and Allison, too.”

“You’re wrong, Emma. About everything.”

Theo takes a step toward me. I stay put, trying not to show my fear. Yet my hand trembles, the flashlight’s beam quivering skyward.

“Since you got away with it once, I guess you thought you could do it again. Only this time you tried to make me look guilty. My bracelet in the canoe was insurance.”

“You’re troubled, Emma,” he says, carefully choosing his words, making sure not to offend me. “You need help. So how about you drop the flashlight and come with me. I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

Theo risks another step closer. This time, I take a step back.

“I’m done being lied to by you,” I say.

“It’s not a lie. I want to help you.”

We repeat our steps. Forward for him, backward for me.

“You could have helped me fifteen years ago by admitting what you did.”

If Theo had turned himself in, then maybe I wouldn’t have felt so guilty about what happened.

Maybe I wouldn’t have hallucinated the girls.

Maybe I would have been normal.

“Instead, I spent fifteen years blaming myself for what happened to them,” I say. “And I blamed myself for causing you pain.”

Another step for Theo.

“I don’t blame you, Emma,” he says. “This isn’t your fault. You’re sick.”

Another step for me.

“Stop saying that!”

“But it’s true, Em. You know it is.”

Instead of one step forward, Theo takes two. I move backward, first shuffling then turning around and running. Theo chases after me, catching up within seconds. He grabs my arm and jerks me toward him. I cry out, the sound streaking through the dark woods. I hear its echo as I raise the flashlight and swing it against Theo’s skull.