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“No one is going to know the truth about what happened to Lily and Abby,” Liam said. “They’re going to think it was some freak accident.”

“So no one’s going to know it was our fault,” I said. “Lily wouldn’t have been in danger if it weren’t for us.”

“It’s not our fault,” Liam said. “It’s that fucking island’s fault.”

From here, it just looked like a lump of rock. Barren and inert. “I don’t understand,” I whispered. “Whatisthat place? Why is it here? Why does anyone stay?”

“You think Dr. Kapoor will tell us?” Liam asked doubtfully.

“I doubt it,” I said. “But she sure as hell knows more than we do. She knows the other me. She...” I frowned. “Those shells and things on your windowsill. Are they yours?”

“No. I’m not really the collecting type,” Liam said.

“But could they be from when you were a kid? Something you left there years ago?”

“Definitely not.”

“And there’s no way that Dr. Kapoor has a random shell collection,” I said. He snorted in amused agreement. She hadn’t been surprised to see me—the echo-me—in the house. She’d been annoyed, but not surprised. “She lets my echo stay there. She must. Which means those things belong to my echo.”

Including the deer, carved so carefully. One of Mikhail’s. If he’d given it to her, it meant he knew too. He didn’t recognize me when I arrived because he knew me as a child. He recognized me because he knewher. He hadn’t told me everything.

I straightened up. Salt water dripped from my fingertips, and I felt nothing. All my fear and anger and grief were on some other shore. Maybe I wasn’t human. But maybe it was better not to be.

“I know what we need to do next,” I said, and started back toward the road.

VIDEO EVIDENCE

Recorded by Joy Novak

AUGUST 14, 2003, TIME UNKNOWN

The camera turns on in night mode. The exterior light is not on, but a flashlight lying on the floor provides some minimal illumination. The camera rests at floor level as well, underneath the wire frame of a bed. It shifts slightly, scraping against the concrete floor.

SOPHIA: Shh.*

Someone enters the room. A man’s boots pass in front of the camera. One foot drags slightly.

CARREAU: Sophie? It’s okay. You know me. I’m your friend. I want to help. Please.

The camera turns, shifting so that both girls are visible. Sophia and her echo—whichever iswhich—lie on their stomachsbeneath the bed, holding each other’s hands tightly. TheSophia who was holding the camera puts a finger to her lips and shakes her head. The Sophiafarther from the camera bites her lip and presses a hand over her mouth, as if trying not towhimper.

CARREAU: Sophie. Sophie. Sososososososo—

His foot taps rapidly, the nervous drumming of a rabbit against the dusty ground.

CARREAU: Sloppy work.

He walks out of the room. In the distance, muffled, come three rapid gunshots and screaming.

Approximately five minutes pass with the camera on the ground beneath the bed, the two girls, holding each other’s hands, breathing in ragged, staggered rhythm. The shouting has stopped. Footsteps sound in the hall outside; Joy enters, recognizable by the bright blue laces on her boots.

NOVAK: Sophie?

The girls clamber out, one after the other.

SOPHIA: We got scared.

SOPHIA [2]: We hided.