Page 67 of Hide And Seek

“Because I had him pegged as more of a corporate-style psychopath,” Jasmine replied. “You know, manipulative, soulless, screws everyone over for money. I didn’t have him pegged as a full-on ax murderer.”

“Okay, okay.” Wren chimed in again. “Even if we aren’t totally certain it’s him, we can’t just ignore the possibility, can we? So the question now is: what do we do about it?”

I straightened slightly, forcing myself to think past the panic. “If itishim, and he realizes we’re onto him…” My voice faltered for a second, then steadied. “Then we’re in danger. All of us.”

No one argued with that.

“So we shouldn’t confront him,” I continued. “We should wait a couple of hours. The cops should be here by then, and then we can tell them our suspicions about him when we’re completely safe.”

“That seems like the smartest move,” Wren said, nodding slowly. She glanced at her phone. “It’s just past ten now. If Brad and Olivia make it to Millhaven by lunchtime like they said, I guess we can expect cops to arrive anywhere between twelve-thirty and one-thirty. So yeah… we just need to sit tight and keep our mouths shut for a few hours.”

“And stay the fuck away from Rhys,” Jasmine added flatly.

“Yup.” I took another deep breath. My heart was still racing, but it felt different now. Less like immediate danger. More like something looming just out of reach.

But soon, help would arrive, and this would be over.

The four of us stayed in the cabin, spread out across the beds with books we weren’t really reading. No one talked much.

Time dragged.

Just after one, a sudden pounding on the door shattered the quiet, loud enough to make all of us flinch.

“What the fuck?” Jasmine muttered, jumping to her feet.

“Guys?” A feminine voice called from outside, thin with panic. “Are you in there?”

Wren frowned. “That sounds like Sutton.”

Jasmine was already halfway across the room, and we followed close behind as she yanked the door open.

Sutton was standing there, pale as a ghost, her eyes wide and glassy. “You all need to come out here,” she said, voice shaking. “It… it’s Rhys.”

Jasmine let out a breath. “Yeah. We know. We figured it out earlier.”

Sutton blinked at her. “What are you talking about?”

“Uhh… what areyoutalking about?” Jasmine asked, frowning.

Sutton dragged a hand down her face, her breath hitching. “He’s dead,” she said, voice cracking slightly. “Rhys isdead.”

16

“Well, there goes your theory,”Wren murmured beside me as we hurried after Sutton. “The blood on his neck and shoes really did have some other explanation.”

I didn't say anything. I couldn't.

We joined the others as they gathered around the old woodshed at the far north edge of the grounds; the one where Delia's body was being kept. The door was open, and through the gap I could see Rhys.

Face down on the shed floor, one arm bent beneath him, the other stretched out toward the wall. His dark hair was completely saturated with blood that had spread outward and was still dripping, tracing slow lines down the back of his neck. His jacket and shirt had been split open across his back in a brutal, sweeping strike, the fabric dark and wet around it.

He wasn't moving.

Knox was crouched just inside the doorway, close enough to touch him, his face drained to a sick, gray-white. His hands were stiff at his sides like he’d forgotten how to use them.

I stared at the back of Rhys’s head, my thoughts skidding uselessly in every direction. It didn't feel real. Some stubborn, stupid part of my brain kept waiting for him to move, to push himself up off the floor, to say that this was all just a sick joke.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t.