The Inmate (74)

Hunt was right. Shane is manipulative. He really made me believe…

My whole body is trembling. I can almost feel that crack of thunder that shook the house all those years ago. And the sound that it almost masked. The missing piece of the puzzle. I can almost hear it. It was…

A muffled scream.

While Shane was strangling me on the floor of the living room, Chelsea was screaming in the upstairs bedroom. She wasn’t screaming because she saw what Shane was doing to me though—because the door to the bedroom was closed. She was screaming because somebody was coming at her with a knife.

Except it wasn’t Shane. It couldn’t have been.

There was another killer in the house that night. Out of the three survivors, there was only one other person it could have been.

Oh my God.

Tim and Shane did it together.





Chapter 51


It makes such perfect sense. I can’t believe I never saw it until now.

The night it happened, Shane dropped me off almost right in front of Tim’s house. He never used to do that. And Tim just happened to be outside, in his yard. They must have figured I would invite him along. And if I hadn’t, Tim would have finagled an invitation.

As soon as we got to the farmhouse, even though they claimed to hate each other, the two of them were suddenly deep in quiet conversation. I remember the way they kept looking at each other throughout the evening. I thought it was because they hated each other, but in retrospect, it was more than that.

Shane was the only one who somehow knew Tim had dated Tracy Gifford. We were all shocked he knew about it. But of course he knew. They probably killed her together. She was their practice run for that night.

And then after we found Brandon dead, Chelsea and I left Shane and Tim alone in the living room. It was almost too perfect for them. Shane went outside, giving Tim a chance to slip up to Kayla’s room and finish her off.

And the second Chelsea and I split up, Shane tried to strangle me in the living room. I had believed I tripped over Tim’s body in the living room, but it was so dark—I must have tripped on something else while Tim was lurking in the shadows. And while my windpipe was being crushed, Tim went up to Shane’s bedroom to simultaneously take care of Chelsea—the sound of thunder almost masked the sound of her screams. I never quite understood when the killer had time to get rid of Chelsea, but now it all makes sense.

When they realized I escaped the house, they must have done some quick thinking. It was obvious the tiny stab wound in Tim’s belly was not meant to kill him. It was meant to make it look like he was a victim. Same deal with the bump on Shane’s scalp. They were just pretending to be unconscious. Maybe the plan was to hope I never saw the face of the person who choked me, blame the entire massacre on a drifter, and claim the footprints had been washed away.

But then when I blamed it all on Shane, Tim flipped. He turned on Shane, going along with my story in order to save his own ass. It must’ve driven Shane crazy, but what could he do? If he told the truth, it would be admitting he was a murderer.

Lucky for Shane, Tim couldn’t keep from killing again.

My knees buckle beneath me, and I barely make it to the chair before I collapse. Shane is crazy. He tried to kill me that night—I have no doubt it was him anymore. And now he is out in the woods with my son.

Our son.

My hands are shaking almost too badly to get my phone out of my coat pocket. I’ve got to get Shane and Josh back here, and I can’t let Shane know that I know what he did. As soon as we get back into town, I’ll go straight to the police. I’ll tell them everything I know.

The phone rings a gut-clenching five times before Shane’s voice comes on the other line: “Hi, Brooke.”

He sounds so normal. He doesn’t sound like a murderer. I can’t let on what I know. “Hey. Are you guys heading back soon?”

“Pretty soon,” Shane says vaguely. “We’re having a lot of fun out here building that snowman.”

“That’s great.” I try to keep my voice steady and normal. How does my voice usually sound? I can’t even remember. “But it’s getting late. You should head back.

“Late? It’s barely midafternoon.”

“It’s just… it’s cold out. I don’t want Josh to get sick.”

“He’s fine. He’s all bundled up.”

“Still. I think it’s better if you head back pretty soon. You know?”

There’s a long pause on the other line. “No, I don’t know. I’m just trying to spend a little time with my son, Brooke. You know, the one I haven’t seen in ten years and I didn’t even know existed.”

“Shane,” I breathe. “Listen—”

“No, you listen, Brooke.” His tone is clipped—I have destroyed any advantage I had. “I missed ten years. Ten years. You didn’t even tell me.”

“I’m sorry,” I say softly.

“A little late for that, isn’t it?” He snorts. “But don’t worry. Now that I’m here, we’re going to be making up for some lost time. And maybe you’ll see what it’s like to miss out.”

“Shane…” I stand up from the chair, my heart pounding. I hurry in the direction of the door to the farmhouse. “What are you talking about?”