I can hear the car getting closer and if I can just get outside and flag it down, I’ll be saved. I just need to move faster.

  I can hear Quinten behind me, screaming at me as he advances. My fingers just reach the cold metal of the door handle before my hair is yanked back, his fingers tangled inside it, my head snapping backwards as my feet leave the ground and I fall to the floor, hard.

  Quinten jumps on top of me, holding me down as I struggle and kick against him.

  “You’re not going anywhere!” The words are laced with a sick sense of ownership that makes my skin crawl.

  I kick and thrash, but he’s stronger and his grip is like iron. I can feel the heat radiating off him, a repulsive blend of sweat and anger.

  “Let me go!” I scream, desperation clawing at my throat.

  My heart is hammering against my ribcage as he pushes my arms down, pinning them against the floor. I try to pull them free but it’s no use, I don’t have the strength. All I can do is scream and scream in the hope that whoever is in the car can hear me. But Quinten leans down closer, his breath hot against my ear.

  “Shut up.” His voice is low, almost a growl.

  I twist my body, trying to break free, but I’m no match for Quinten’s strength as he drags me up off the floor and pulls me back toward the bedroom.

  52

  MORY

  I hit the floor face first. My heart races, drumming against my ribs, sending pain soaring through my core. I whimper as I shuffle myself backwards toward the wall to get away from him.

  Quinten’s eyes narrow, pinpricks of rage. “Who did you tell you were coming here?”

  I swallow hard, tasting blood. “Nobody,” I croak, the word barely escaping my throat.

  I so badly want to believe that someone has found me, that maybe this is my chance. But how could they know? I didn’t tell a soul we were coming here. Nobody has any reason to believe me and Quinten have been seeing each other, and from what he told me, nobody even knows he still owns the cabin.

  “You better be telling the truth, Mory,” he hisses, leaning in close to my face, his breath hot and fetid. “I need you to listen to me. Stay in this room and be quiet. I will gut you like a fish if I hear so much as a cry.”

  Something about how he says this makes me believe him. Is that how he killed those other girls?

  I nod and watch as he stalks toward the door, every step heavy. The door creaks open, and just like that, he’s gone. I’m left alone in the darkness. In silence.

  I don’t know what to do. If I obey him, he might convince whoever is outside that he’s here alone and then kill me when they leave. But if I try to run outside and flag down help, then he’ll kill me right then and there.

  I need to think, but the air inside this room is thick and suffocating. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing myself to breathe, to think. What do I do? I can’t just sit here and wait to die. What if it’s my mom out there, coming to look for me? But of course, that’s not possible because there’s no way she could know that I’m here.

  Through the remaining fog filling my head, I suddenly remember: Dad’s tracker! Maybe she told him I was missing and he helped her track me down. She could be right outside, ready to save me! The hope in my heart carries the weight of possibilities but my new-found optimism is shattered in a moment when I hear it.

  A single gunshot, sharp and jarring, slicing through the night outside. Then another. The sounds echo in my head and freeze my blood. Panic floods over me and I scramble to my feet, my thoughts racing. Did Quinten shoot someone? Did he shoot himself? I’m frozen to the spot, every cell in my body screaming at me to run and hide, but I can’t move. Fear keeps me anchored in place. But as though a cloud parts in my mind, there’s suddenly no question about what to do. I need to run, or I am going to die. I make a dash for the window, ready to face whatever’s outside. But before I can get to it, the door opens and Quinten steps back into the room. My stomach drops. Even in the dim light, I can see it. Blood spatters, wet and glistening, cover his hands, his clothes. He’s now holding a gun, the metal gleaming in the shadows.

  I stop and back up against the wall and cling to it, paralyzed by terror, my body betraying me. He strides toward me, grabbing my arm and yanking me forward.

  “We have to get out of here. Now! Move!” His grip tightens as he pulls me toward the door.

  I don’t dare put up a fight. Not now I’ve seen the gun. The blood.

  I shiver, my body trembling uncontrollably as he drags me outside. The cold night air hits me like a slap in the face and I stumble behind him, my legs unsteady. And then I see it.

  A body lies sprawled on the ground, the figure twisted and unnatural in the dark. Blood pools around it, glistening under the moonlight, and a metallic odor bites at my throat. I can’t process what I’m seeing; my eyes widen as horror washes over me like a tidal wave.

  “No,” I whisper, shaking my head in disbelief. “No, no, no…”

  Quinten’s grip tightens on my arm as he drags me closer to the grisly scene, and I stare in horror, unable to believe this is possible.

  “Look! Look at what you made me do!” His voice is frantic, a wild edge creeping in as he tries to catch his breath. “This is your fault!”

  I can’t breathe. The world tilts on its axis, and I feel like I’m going to be sick. “How could you do this?” I croak, every syllable sticking in my throat like shards of glass.

  “Shut up!” he barks, his eyes darting around before they settle on his car. “We need to get out of here before anyone else comes.”

  He shoves me forward and I stumble, catching my balance just in time to keep from falling. I don’t want to follow him; I want to scream, to run, to escape this nightmare. But I have no choice but to do as he says.

  He shoves me forward and points at his car. “Get in!”

  I take a step toward the car but suddenly stop when I see lights approaching on the road. Quinten sees it too and before I can make another move, he grabs me from behind and raises the gun upwards, pushing the cold metal to my temple just as a car comes to a screeching halt by the cabin.

  53

  RUBY

  Gravel crunches underneath the tires as I pull the car to a stop.

  The crumbling wooden building before us is almost swallowed by the blackness, but the headlights illuminate the scene in front of it, depicting something far darker than I could have ever let myself imagine. A police car sits with its door wide open, like a gaping mouth screaming. An officer lies sprawled on the ground, his gun holster empty, a river of blood spreading across the earth beneath him. Because of the shadows, I can’t tell if he’s young or old but the lifelessness of his face leaves no question about it. He’s dead.

  “Dad!” Hutch’s pained voice yells and it’s only then that I see them beside the cabin door.

  Quinten and Mory stand in the darkness. His arm is tightly around her, and he’s holding a gun to her head. I can barely comprehend what I’m seeing because nothing here makes any sense.

  “Mory!” I scream as Hutch and I exit the car simultaneously.

  “Mom, help!” Mory cries and I begin to rush forward but stop when Quinten takes a step back, dragging Mory with him.

  “Don’t come any closer!” Quinten orders, his eyes wild.

  He’s staring back and forth between me and Hutch and he looks nothing like I’ve ever seen him before. Felicity’s cool, calm husband has been replaced by a madman. What is happening? Why has he brought my daughter here? But it takes only a moment for me to register the dress Mory is wearing and the reality of what this all means to slot together in my mind.

  “It… it was you,” I mutter.

  The girls. The photos. It was Quinten all this time. The whole neighborhood has been rallying against Justin for years, convinced that he murdered his wife, but they’ve been overlooking the wolf dressed in sheep’s clothing amongst them all these years. He fooled Felicity and he fooled his boys. He fooled us all.

  “Dad… what… what’s happening?” Hutch’s voice cracks. “What are you doing?”

  “What am I doing?” Quinten shouts. “Well, son, I was spending some quality time with your cute little friend here before you all showed up.”

  Tears are pouring down Mory’s face and it takes everything I have not to rush over and grab her.

  “You ever wonder why she just wasn’t that into you, Hutch?” Quinten’s eyes glimmer with some kind of sick pride. “It’s because she was with me. She wanted me.”

  “I don’t want anything to do with you, you asshole!” Mory screams and thrashes, but Quinten holds her tighter.

  “That’s not what you were saying all those nights we met at the falls. All those weekends helping out with robotics, your lips on mine every time Hutch left the room. See, son,” he looks Hutch dead in the eyes, “Mory is one of my girls.”

  My stomach turns. This man is sicker than I could have ever imagined. Hutch just stares ahead, seemingly unable to process the fact that his father isn’t the man he thought he was.

  I take one step forward, my teeth gritted. “Mory isn’t yours, Quinten. And neither were those other girls. Let her go!”

  He laughs and shakes his head. “That’s not going to happen.”

  My chest fills with rage. This is my daughter—my baby—I can’t let anything happen to her.

  “No,” Quinten says slowly. “Mory will be going to join my other girls.”

  He looks off into the night for a moment and I shudder to think of where their bodies lie now. One thing is for sure; so long as there’s breath still in my lungs, my daughter will not be joining them.

  “Dad, why are you doing this?” Hutch cries. “This isn’t you!”

  “Son, if you had more time in life, you’d realize that people are rarely who you think they are.”

  There’s no question in my mind of what he means by this. He plans to kill Mory and then us. I can’t let this happen. There must be more officers on their way. If I can just keep him talking, maybe they’ll get here before he can kill us all.

  “You don’t have to do this. Let Mory and Hutch go, they’re just kids!”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, Ruby, but your daughter isn’t nearly as innocent as you’d like to think.” He kisses the side of her head, and I see her flinch. “Mory has spent the best part of a year leading my son on like an idiot. She came here with me behind your back, behind his. Because it’s me that she loves.”

  “No I don’t! No I don’t!” Mory screams and sends an elbow backwards into Quinten’s ribcage so hard the breath gets knocked from his lungs.

  Quinten groans in pain and loses his footing, stumbling backwards. The gun goes off above him, sending a shock wave through the still night air. Mory rushes forwards into my arms and I hold her tight, squeezing her head to my chest and breathing in the smell of my beautiful daughter. I’ve never known a scent so sweet.

  With one hand holding the gun and the other grasping his injured side, Quinten tries to recompose himself. He steadies his arm and points the gun in our direction, but it’s too late as Hutch runs at him from the side and collides with his father, both of them falling to the ground.

  Quinten struggles and pushes at his son but Hutch is a younger and stronger man than his father, and overpowers him easily before grabbing the gun from his hand and slamming it into his head. Quinten is stunned momentarily. Hutch jumps off of him and stands over him with the gun pointed his way.

  “Why… why, Dad?” Hutch sobs. “Why did you do this?”

  Quinten gets up slowly, his head streaming blood. He backs up against the wall of the cabin. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand, Hutch. I… I wouldn’t want you to understand.”

  His tone almost sounds sorrowful, but I don’t pity this man one bit.

  It doesn’t seem Hutch is fooled either, as he holds the gun with both hands shaking violently. “How could you do this to Mom? To Leo? To me?”

  I see Hutch’s finger tightening on the trigger. “Don’t shoot him!” I cry.

  Whatever Hutch is going through right now, killing his own father will only make it worse. But Hutch doesn’t seem to hear me. He’s laser-focused on his father, and the tears of pain in his eyes are heartbreaking to witness.

  I squeeze Mory closer to me, shielding her from the scene in front of us.

  “He’s not going to shoot me,” Quinten spits. “Just put the gun down, Hutch.”

  But Hutch only steadies his shaking hands around the gun. “No! I’m not going to let you hurt anyone else ever again,” he shouts through tears before lowering his voice to a near whisper. “I’m… I’m sorry, Dad.”

  I squeeze my eyes waiting for the inevitable, but instead of the sound of a gunshot, I hear an engine revving. I open my eyes to see a stunned Hutch lit up by headlights and a car driving straight for the cabin, no signs of slowing down. Hutch watches on, jaw slack as the car hurtles forward, headed straight for Quinten.

  Quinten is frozen, a look of terror on his face as he sees the vehicle coming for him. The driver is staring dead ahead at him, their face a picture of determination.

  I don’t have time to turn away before it happens.

  The tires screech, rubber grating against gravel, as the force slams Quinten against the rough wooden wall of the cabin. The sound of the impact reverberates through my chest, hitting my senses like a sledgehammer. Everything stops and for a fleeting moment, time seems to stretch on as the air settles around us. Quinten chokes under the crushing weight of the car that pins him helplessly, squeezing the breath from his lungs. He gasps, a strangled sound bubbling up, as blood drips from his mouth, the life draining from his gaze, before his neck goes limp.

  His final view as he stares straight ahead is the intent eyes of his killer, who sits behind the wheel glaring resolutely back.

  54

  RUBY

  Felicity steps slowly from her car, shaken but uninjured. A long time goes by without any of us uttering so much as a word. Mory and I wait inside my car for help to arrive, giving Felicity and Hutch time to process what just happened. Although I doubt they will ever truly process it all.

  When the area is taken over by officials and Mory is sitting in the back of an ambulance being seen to by a medic for her injuries, I find a moment with Felicity.

  “How did you know?” I ask solemnly.

  She lowers her red-rimmed eyes. “I’ve suspected he was having affairs for years now. But I didn’t know about this until… well, I guess until you traced Mory’s phone to this address. But now. Now I’m wondering if maybe part of me knew since the day you showed us those photographs. I thought I saw a little glint of recognition in Quinten’s eyes, but when he said he’d never seen them I quickly put it out of my mind. I didn’t recognize the cabin in the photos, but when you said you’d traced Mory’s phone to this area… it all clicked.”

  She explains how Quinten convinced her years ago that he’d sold the cabin his mother had left him when she died and since then, the frequency of his work trips had increased. She tells me of the renovations they did a few years back and how they’d asked the Desmonds to let them store some furniture in their empty house. When Felicity learned about the photos I’d found, she’d convinced herself that it couldn’t have anything to do with Quinten. She suspected he was cheating, but she’d figured it was with someone from work. Then on the morning of her surprise birthday party—when Quinten was getting ready to leave town on a ‘work trip’—she’d done something she’d never done before. She’d waited until he was in the shower and gone behind his back to check his phone, something he would never have allowed her to do. How Felicity never saw this fact alone as a blinding red flag, I don’t know. But I guess she’d just been so intent on keeping up appearances that she knew to keep those stray threads firmly in place, so as not to unravel their whole lives.

  “There were messages on there from a contact called M that confirmed what I’d suspected. Quinten was seeing someone else. But I didn’t consider for a second that it could be your daughter.”

  A heavy silence falls between us. We’ve both been under the illusion for a long time that Mory had fallen for Hutch. The revelation that she’d actually been seeing Quinten all this time is one that neither one of us wants to accept. I can see the pain in Felicity’s eyes, just as I’d seen on the night of her surprise party. She’d been crying when she arrived, which at the time I’d thought was just normal emotions about getting older, but now I know it was because she’d just confirmed that her husband was having an affair.

  Felicity takes a deep breath. “I think Bernice tried to tell us the photos were Quinten’s at the meeting,” she explains. “Everyone thought she was talking about Justin, but I saw her pointing dead on at my husband. When I found out she was killed, I didn’t consider for a second that it could have been Quinten who strangled her, so I latched on to the idea that it was Justin, like everyone else did. But now I know. Quinten killed Bernice to keep her quiet.”

  I say nothing, but the cogs in my mind are beginning to turn. What Felicity just said makes complete sense and something inside me relaxes, knowing that Justin won’t get the blame for Bernice’s death.

  But my heart still breaks for Felicity. For Hutch.

  Felicity glances at the officers behind us and lowers her voice. “You won’t… you won’t tell them, will you?”

  I know exactly what she’s asking. “Quinten had a gun. He was going to kill us all. You did what you had to do.”