Nine Liars (Truly Devious, #5)(103)

He peeked outside, found nothing but rain and the night waiting for him. When he left Rosie and the woodshed, he snapped the lock back on the door and took a few bouncing strides to the gravel of the parking area. Nature had provided. The rain washed him clean, made the blood run from his rain slicker, off his hands, off the Wellington boots. He tipped back his face as he ran and allowed himself to be soaked.

He needed to find Noel, which meant the best thing to do was to be found himself. Become a seeker. Get a torch. He heard voices coming from the back of the house, so he moved through the trees and around the tennis courts. Angela and Yash were back there somewhere, in the topiary. He moved toward the sound, then ducked under the first bench he saw. It was Yash who came through the entrance to the topiary area, flashed his torch around, and caught sight of him. Peter made a pretense of running.

“Bastard, bastard!” Yash said, laughing and giving chase. “Ange! Peter’s here!”

Peter pretended to trip and allowed Yash to clap a hand on him. Yash and Angela took him to the folly, where Sebastian gave him a yellow poncho and a torch.

“Go forth,” Sebastian said, “and seek for me.”

“Who’s still out there to be found?” Peter asked.

“Rosie, Julian, Noel, and Sooz. Find them and bring them to me!”

Noel was still out there somewhere.

When you must find someone because your life depends on it, you will find them. The trouble was, Noel was famously good at this game. He was extremely limber and willing to go to great lengths. He also liked to climb things. He would be up somewhere. He might have scaled some part of the house, might have gone out a window to the roof.

No. Not on a night like this. Too slick. Too exposed.

In the process of looking for Noel, he discovered Sooz hiding in a wall of topiary. He wasted precious time taking her to Sebastian. After that, he broke away from the others again and began going through the woods. A tree, perhaps. Plenty of them. It would be impossible to search them all, so he would have to be lured.

“Noel,” he called gently as he made his way through the tree line that ringed the house. “Noel, she needs you.”

For a full half hour, he poked through trees, shining his torch up into the branches. He made his way to a small orchard off the back gardens. These trees were a bit smaller, and thus, more promising. The branches were just as plentiful, but closer to the ground. Easier for Noel to climb up and escape as necessary. He should have started here.

“Rosie,” Peter said, making his way through the orchard. “She needs you.”

A faint sound from somewhere above.

“Rosie needs you, Noel,” Peter said. “She needs your help.”

The rustling grew louder. Noel slithered out of a tree just behind him.

“What’s wrong with Rosie?” Noel asked, dropping from the lowest branch.

“There you are,” Peter said with real relief in his voice. He switched off his torch. “She’s asked for you. Come on.”

“But what’s wrong?” Noel said, allowing himself to be led through the darkness.

“Have to be quiet,” Peter replied. “Come on. You’ll see.”

They almost ran into Sooz on the way, but they managed to stay hidden. Peter found that he was almost looking forward to what was about to happen. It was so terrible and huge that it bred a queasy, wild anticipation. He was aware that something odd was happening in his mind, that he was so swamped with adrenaline and champagne that he had developed an intense focus. The life-or-death moment brought forth the heaviest chemicals the body could produce.

Peter unlocked the shed while Noel hid behind. He had one hand on the axe as he waved Noel into the darkness with the other.

Noel never knew what happened. Of that, Peter was sure. The first swing seemed to land somewhere around his ear, his face, probably. Knocked him sideways. Confused him. Peter swung and swung again.

He covered Noel with the same care that he had shown to Rosie.

He was back outside at two fifteen. The storm was getting worse. He moved away from the woodshed in the fulsome darkness, crossing around to the opposite side of the house. Then, as if on some celestial cue, the power cut out.

Everyone retreated back inside, shivering, pulling off wet slickers and clothes, wrapping themselves in the woolen throw blankets, opening more champagne. And there was Sebastian, crawling along the floor with a candle in his hand, trying to get to some bottle of whisky that his father loved so much. He would need a key to open the cabinet.

It was like the universe gave him a path, or perhaps it was that life becomes simple when your choices are few. Here was his chance. Peter dropped to the floor and joined Sebastian’s little play while fumbling with the set of stolen keys, looking for the one that might open the cabinet door. Triumph. The cabinet was opened, the whisky procured, and the keys put back into Sebastian’s hand as if they had never been gone.

Just one more thing to do. This required being seen going to bed. He claimed that he might be sick, which was true enough, and retired to his room. He waited over an hour on his bathroom floor, trying to hold himself together and finding that he was doing all right. Theo would come around with water like she always did after a long night. He wanted to be in the room when she made her rounds. It was a good thing to know your friends so well. Within the hour, he heard Theo enter his room and call out for him. He answered from behind the bathroom door that he was fine.