One Was Lost(24)

“Tell me you don’t think I did this.” Every word is ice lit on fire over my ear and neck.

I nod without thinking about it, swallowing hard.

“Jude tried to blame you at first,” he says. “Now he’s moved on to me. Something’s going on with that. I don’t trust him.”

I nod again, and he leans back a few inches. Thank God. Everything feels spinny, and my face tingles.

I don’t know what to think. I don’t trust Jude either, but that’s not saying much. I don’t trust anyone here. My gaze drifts to Lucas’s mouth, reminding me I don’t trust myself either.

“We need to get back,” I whisper. “We need to tell them what we found.”

“Don’t be alone with him, Sera.”

I nod, though I can’t imagine a scenario where I would. But I’m alone with Lucas right now, aren’t I?

The letters on his arm catch my eye. Dangerous. It fits in more ways than one. If I’m afraid to be alone with any of them, it’s him.





Chapter 10


We go to bed in shifts, and I lie awake for hours, imagining the phantom buzz of flies. I didn’t enjoy our happy little camping adventure before bodies were left to rot by the river while we were violated in our tents. Now? Well, it isn’t really camping anymore, is it?

Emily rolls over. She was pretty quiet once we got into the tent, but I don’t know if she’s asleep. I thought things were better between us. Earlier today, we talked, even laughed a little. Then again, that was before she talked to Jude.

Is that why she’s gone quiet again? Is she afraid of me?

Neither she nor Jude said much when we told them about the bodies. But I caught them exchanging a careful look. Maybe they don’t believe us, or maybe they really think we’re involved. Whatever. We’re all getting paranoid, and Lucas is the biggest and scariest of the bunch, I guess.

Plus, I’m the one with the Lucas history here. I’m also the one who went with him earlier.

I try to push out my memories from the river, squeezing my eyes shut for the millionth time. My mind supplies images of vulture talons and a gooey bit dangling from a black beak. OK. No more closing my eyes. Maybe ever again.

The cold returned with the sunset, so I zipped myself tight into my sleeping bag. The fabric is sticking to my cut, which feels icky and probably looks even worse, but since I have all my fingers, I guess I shouldn’t gripe.

I turn to stare at Emily’s dark hair. I’m sure I can still hear the flies. Impossible. I know the buzz isn’t audible from here. I catalog other sounds to distract myself. Crickets and the low hoot of an owl. A branch snaps outside, and I jerk to attention. Is that the murderer?

Is this when the real nightmare starts?

No one comes, and the noises continue. Eventually, they all fade together: coyote howls and frog songs and the occasional repositioning of whoever is on watch—Lucas now because Jude just finished.

Is that why I didn’t sleep? Because it was Jude guarding us, and I don’t trust him? Maybe. But I’m not sleeping now either, and it’s Lucas outside. I don’t think he’d hurt me.

My cheeks warm because it’s not something I think. I know Lucas wouldn’t hurt me. I at least owe myself that much honesty after everything. After the party…

Outside, Lucas clears his throat, and with absolutely no warning, the memory I pushed so hard to hold back rolls me under. It was hotter that night, and the cicadas were much louder in Sophie’s yard than the crickets are here. I let my gaze drift to Lucas’s faint shadow through the tent wall. But even with my eyes wide open, I remember.

My heart is pounding in my ears, in my fingertips. My hands tremble when I try to push my hair away from my face. Lucas is no stranger to this back deck dance of waiting, but I am.

He cocks his head. “Are you afraid of me, Sera?”

“Yes.”

“After all this time?” His smile makes me shiver. “You don’t need to be.”

I give a half laugh that ends on a shuddery breath. He moves closer, and I look up, finally less nervous, finally feeling a real smile curve my lips. “You’re so tall. It’s ridiculous.”

“I’ve heard that once or twice.” He bites his bottom lip, looking younger than usual. “I’ve got an idea. Ready?”

“OK—whoa!”

His hands are on my hips, gripping tight, and then the decking beneath my feet is gone. He lifts me up, up, up—sets me on the wide wooden plank on top of the deck railing. He waits for me to wrap an arm around the post beside me. My head swims at the change in height.

Maybe I should be afraid of falling, but I’m not. I’m afraid of myself because I don’t do things like this. I don’t, but my mother does.

A crack jerks me back to the forest. The sound is different. It’s less of a snapping and more of a ruckus of branches and sticks. There’s a soft, low noise that goes with the shuffle-crunch. My eyes pop open, ears straining. Outside, Lucas isn’t moving.

Was it him? Or did I drift off? Dream it?

It comes again, a strange whirring—almost like a far-off engine—humming and whining until it dips into a grumble. No, not a grumble. A growl. My breath freezes into a solid mass in my chest.

That’s not far away. It’s close. And it might be a bear.