One Was Lost(53)

I dare a quick glance around Lucas’s shoulder. Madison and Emily are both leaned over Hayley again, tending or whatever. But then Madison’s eyes shoot up and fix on Lucas and me. The envy in her gaze is almost palpable. I turn away quickly, my cheeks hot.

“Do you think she’s involved?” I whisper.

Lucas frowns, his thumb rubbing a slow circle on my spine. The touch turns my head even foggier. “She doesn’t strike me as the type. My money’s still on Mr. Walker. He likes you.”

“He doesn’t. Not like that,” I whisper. “I know you think I’m not seeing it, but I’m telling you, I don’t think it’s there. There’s zero motive. And the words? The dolls? That feels girly.”

Lucas cocks his head and leans in again. “Sera, this is Madison. She got excused from gym over a bad hangnail. Plus, if she’s doing this, why would she be calling us in to help her?”

“No idea. But she’s also the only one from her camp who’s not dead or heading that way in a hurry. Maybe she called for us to bring us closer.”

It isn’t as hard to imagine as I’d like. Madison has a car. She could have gotten down here, set this all up beforehand. She’s proven she’s capable with first aid, that she’s smarter than we thought. Plus, we found her granola bar wrappers around our camp. This whole nightmare isn’t an exercise in brute force. It’s just planning. Really careful planning.

“She could have done it,” I breathe, and this time, I believe myself.

Lucas sighs. “OK. What motive?”

I’m pretty sure I already know. I look over my shoulder and catch Madison glancing our way. I lift my hands to Lucas’s shoulders, and her mouth thins.

I drop my hands like he’s on fire. “You. You’re the motive.”

“Then why am I Dangerous?”

“Because you could hurt her?”

He quirks a brow. “You’re reaching. And why the hell would you be Darling?”

“Maybe in her eyes, I am a darling.” I swallow hard enough to hear it. “Your darling. Does she know about us? About the party or last spring when I hung out in your shop?”

His expression clouds, and I can’t hear his next breath. “She knows I’m out here for you. She tried to talk me into signing up with her, and I said no until…”

“Until you saw me on the list?”

It’s his turn to swallow hard. His grip on my waist tightens. “OK. It’s possible. Anything is possible. So I’ll take her down. Right now.”

I shake my head hard. Maybe too hard. The world spins, and this time, I grab Lucas’s shoulders for real.

His eyes are wide with concern, but he says nothing.

“We’re exhausted,” I say. “We’re stabbing in the dark, and we could be wrong. Plus, if it is her, she’s almost definitely armed. It feels too risky.”

“You’re letting your tired talk,” he says.

I scoff. “You’ve got bags under your eyes I could pack a lunch in.”

He laughs. “I still think I can take a hundred-and-ten-pound girl.”

“It feels like a bad idea. She could have a gun. She could have a partner.” I dare a quick glance, but Madison’s behind Emily, ducked low near Hayley. No way can we get to her without going through them. Could we call her out? Would she see it coming?

“Break it up already,” Jude says. I didn’t even hear him slip up, but he’s suddenly right beside us. He drops his voice lower than a whisper. “Someone’s paying awfully close attention to your sexual tension.”

No way did Jude come over here just to pick at how close we’re standing. He’s got something on his mind. I watch his gaze move over Emily, his mouth going thin every time she limps. He’s afraid for her. Afraid for all of us probably.

Jude isn’t who I thought he was. Not that it would matter if he was. He’s one of us now, which makes me wonder when we became an us.

Emily adjusts her spot beside Hayley. Madison is still crouched close, but I can see that Emily is moving awkwardly. Whatever’s wrong with her ankle, it’s bad.

“She won’t be able to walk,” I whisper. “And Hayley is wrecked.”

“Plus, Mr. Walker could be following us,” Lucas says with a sigh.

Jude nods, and something in his expression cracks when he looks back at Emily. I know that look. It’s the way I look at Sophie when she’s in the midst of a panic attack. Or the way Dad looks at me every day.

It’s compassion. Worry. And it’s so much bigger than the nine letters on his arm.

“I’m sorry for trying to define you.” I say it because I’m not sorry for whatever now. I know what I did wrong.

Jude just raises his brows, his expression revealing nothing.

I scrape a nail across the D in Darling. “Whether I meant to or not, I did wonder about you. I made my guesses too, even though I didn’t know you at all. I had no right. Your dating preferences have nothing to do with me. That’s what I’m sorry for.”

I force myself to meet Jude’s eyes, and he watches me for what feels like forever. It isn’t comfortable, but I don’t look away. Looking away would cheapen everything I just said, and the words aren’t worth much as they stand.