Until the Day I Die(72)

I open the journal and slowly flip through it. Dad only filled out about half of it, which makes sense, since he died halfway through the month. On the back page, there’s a list of seven phone numbers, each scrawled beside a first name only.

Barry L., Sandra C., Mason P.

There’s a knot in my stomach as I turn back to the first page.

Perry Gaines, I read, and inhale deeply.

Friday, March 1





39

PERRY’S JOURNAL

Wednesday, March 13

TO DO:

Finish Shorie’s letter

Buy floss



“What lies behind you and what lies in front of you pales in comparison to what lies inside of you.” —Ralph Waldo Emerson (Shorie’s letter?)





40

ERIN

I know it’s a dream, even as the events unfold.

Shorie and Perry are trapped in Ben’s truck, sunk to the bottom of the lake. Their eyes, wide and scared, plead wordlessly for help, even as Shorie unaccountably flips through one of Perry’s journals. I see them, but I can’t swim far enough down to rescue them. Horror courses through me. I’m going to lose them—the two people I love most in the world—and I want to cry out, but I can’t force the sound up and out of my throat.

The metallic chunk of the sliding bolt wakes me up. My face is pressed against the cold stone floor, and I push upright as the cellar door scrapes open. The next thing I know I’m squinting into the high beam of the flashlight, and something drops in front of me. My boots.

“Move,” Lach says.

“Can we use the bathroom?”

“Outside.”

He’s got Jessalyn by the neck, and he grabs me, too, forcing us through the cobwebbed stone passageway and up the narrow steps. We’re behind the house, and when I look back, the place is lit up like a birthday cake. Women partying in every room, no doubt, stuffing their noses full of coke, pouring expensive booze down their throats.

“Do your thing.” Lach shoves us both forward. He points to the gun in his waistband. He’s removed the silencer, I notice, maybe to make it a little less unwieldy. Looks like we’re going on a hike to a spot on the island where no one can hear him shoot us. The proverbial “second location.”

“I don’t have to go,” Jess says, and circles back to stand by Lach.

I squat, right out there in the yard, the moonlight spilling over my bare backside, urine gushing for an eternity. I can feel him watching me, the asshole, so I keep my eyes on the ground. But it’s not from shame. My mind is racing, linking the facts I know, filling in what I don’t.

Sabine is cheating on Ben.

She’s stealing from Jax.

The biggest question, though, is still unanswered. Did my best friend also kill my husband?

Then again, does it even matter at this point? There’s nothing I can do, no matter what the truth is. And, right now, I’ve got bigger fish to fry. For instance, figuring out Lach’s plan. My best guess is the waterfall. It’s where I found Agnes’s hair tie and the bone. Maybe it’s where he keeps the bodies until he can dispose of them permanently later.

I’m just about to shake off and zip up when I notice Jess. She’s moved behind Lach, her gaze boring into me, a white-hot bolt of pure, distilled intention. She raises her hand, her lips twisted into a smirk. Somehow, she’s managed to swipe Lach’s phone.

“Toilet paper would be nice,” I comment as I button my pants. “Oh my God, what the hell is that?” I say, and point into the darkness beyond Lach.

He turns, and, just as nice and slow as a lacrosse ball you toss to your six-year-old daughter, Jess lobs Lach’s phone to me.

Lach’s phone in hand, I take off across the patch of grass and into an overgrown sugarcane field. Lach yells, but I don’t slow. I scramble over the low rock walls that demarcate the borders, and before long I’m in dense forest. I don’t hear anything behind me, but that doesn’t mean Lach isn’t in pursuit, so I speed up. It takes all my concentration not to face-plant on the sharp boulders or gnarled roots or to get tangled in the vines hanging like hair from the trees. And now clouds have obscured the moon. The night’s no longer silvery, just plain dark.

Go, I tell my legs, just go. They obey, pumping faster and faster, carrying me up my path in time with the pounding of my heart. I don’t know where Jess has gone, but I assume she’s running, too, somewhere, in the opposite direction. I hope she is.

Breathe. Keep going. Stay alive.

I run and run, and when I can’t run any more, I drop my hands to my knees, head down, gulping air. Sweat drips off my nose, runs down my cheeks and neck. I am beyond exhausted. I am . . .

I hear the roar and look up. Disbelief mingles with despair. I’m at the waterfall, just a couple of yards from the pool. Which means I’m going to have to set off in a new direction. I tell myself to stand, to choose a different path and just go, but tears rise to my eyes, constricting my throat. I can’t move. I’m out of steam. And where can I go on this island that Lach’s not going to know better than me?

Laughter rings out behind me. “Which way now, Erin?”

I spin to face the darkness.

It’s Lach, hidden by the jungle. Somewhere behind me. But where?

“You could go right and follow the river. But I’ll warn you, it gets really steep and rocky. Lots of places to twist an ankle. Break it clean through.”