He laughs. “You think sleeping with your teacher isn’t a little slutty? Yeah, Isabel and Jess dug up that little tidbit. Then you came down here and fucked four different guys—best friends—all at the same time? You think they all want to be second best? To know you’re in the other room, coming on another guy’s dick? You actually think they’re okay with that?” He shakes his head at me. “Summer, you’re actually the worst and when I cut into your chest and pull out you
r heart, it will be a relief to those pussy-whipped guys.”
I try to swallow past the lump of fear in my throat. “Maybe I’m not the best person, but don’t do this to my mom.”
“Your mom is the whore that got away, Summer. She’s why I’m doing this.”
“She’s been nothing but nice and gracious to you.” I look over at Shay. “And why her? Why did you bring her here?”
He glances at her with an annoyed expression. “Because she told me about how you thought it was those dumb bitches, Isabel and Jessica.” He rolls his eyes. “As if they could pull off something like this. She made me prove myself. Unfortunately, it’ll cost her life.”
Shay whimpers next to me. “Avery, she has kids. Don’t do this to them.”
“Do you think the State of South Carolina cared about my grandfather’s kids? Do you think they showed them mercy?”
I see the glint of evil in his eye and know there is no way to talk him out of this—he’s deranged and our exchange is only making him angrier. His grip has tightened on the handle of the knife and twice, he’s jabbed it in my direction. I open my mouth to speak once more, plead once more, but he curses and shoves the ball of cloth back inside, the cotton coarse against my tongue.
“There’s one thing I’ll do differently than my grandfather,” he says, standing over us with the knife hanging by his side, “I plan on taking my time.” His eyes skip between us as a chill runs up my spine. “With both of you.”
30
Justin
I don’t worry about waking the neighbors and drive down the gravel path as fast as possible, stopping just outside Summer’s camper. The four of us jump out, Pete getting to the door first. It’s locked but he fumbles for the key her mother gave him and slides it into the lock.
“Hurry the fuck up, man,” Whit barks, uncharacteristically rattled.
The lock releases and he pushes open the door, stepping inside without hesitation. I follow him in—leaving the others outside. It’s too tight for all us in here at once.
“She’s not here?” he says, looking into the tiny bathroom and two bedrooms.
“There’s her bag.” I point to the seat by the table. She’d carried it that night. A copy of her mother’s book was on the kitchen table.
“Find anything?” Nick asks, leaning his head inside.
“No.”
“Shit, shit, shit,” Pete mumbles, rubbing his hands over his face.
My phone buzzes. Summer’s name and beautiful face lights up the screen. Relief washes over my body. “It’s her. Hello?”
Pete picks up the book and opens the cover. From my spot by the tiny kitchen I see handwriting scrawled on the inside. I’d seen a hundred of these tonight—Julia’s notes of thanks to her fans.
“Hello?” I say again, the relief turning into confusion. “Summer?”
I hear nothing. Just a rattle and whisper. Like when you get a butt dial.
“What is it?” Nick asks, forehead creased with concern.
“Summer, it’s Justin.”
I only hear faint voices—nothing concrete. Then nothing, although the call is still live. “She’s not there, but there’s something…a sound I can’t quite make out.” I press speaker and hold it up. Nick squeezes into the tiny space. Whit’s body fills the doorway. Peter frowns at the book.
“Is that…water?” Nick asks.
“Not the ocean. It’s not loud enough.”
I shake my head. My heart leaps. “No. The waterway.”