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CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

“Stay with me!” Keller shouts into the wind.

She’s holding back terror and tears as she applies pressure to McCray’s chest. Blood seeps through her fingers.

McCray is still conscious. He’s trying to say something. Keller is shaking, even though she’s not cold.

McCray’s eyes dart around like a trapped animal’s. He’s in shock.

“You’re going to be okay. Focus on my voice, Jay.”

His eyes widen, then he tries to sit up, but she keeps the pressure on, keeps him pressed to the ground.

That’s when she feels what can only be the barrel of a gun against the back of her head.

Panic grips her. But at the same time, her training kicks in. She forces a calm, a detachment that enables her heartbeat to steady.

“Hands,” a male voice commands.

“I can’t, he’s bleeding, he’ll—”

Another pop , and sand bursts up from the ground near McCray’s head.

Keller raises her hands. She gasps at the sight of the blood oozing from McCray’s chest when the pressure is removed.

“Take out your gun. Slowly,” the voice says.

With two fingers she retrieves her sidearm, her back still to the man. You should never give up your service weapon. But she has no choice. In the movies, she’d beat the shooter to the draw, twist around, and take him out. But this isn’t the movies. She has a gun to her head while McCray bleeds out in the sand.

The gun is plucked from her hand.

Then she hears a woman’s voice. “This has gone too far. You can’t.”

It takes Keller a moment to realize that the woman with the Eastern European accent isn’t speaking to Keller, she’s talking to the man with the gun.

“What choice do we have now?” he replies.

The female voice continues: “This—all of this—isn’t bringing her back.”

“They need to pay. For what they did to her.”

The woman pleads now: “This man, this lady, had nothing to do with—”

“Mr. and Mrs. Belov,” Keller says loudly, her back still turned. This silences the couple.

She takes the chance and slowly turns toward them, hands still raised.

When she turns, she sees the pair is wearing Smurf masks. The same disguise from the FedEx video.

Mr. Belov says something Keller can’t make out, then rips off his mask, like he’s beaten.

“The tide… there’s still time,” Keller pleads. “We can still save them. Make this right. It’s not too late.”

Mrs. Belov removes her mask, gives her husband a pleading look.

“He needs a doctor or he could die,” Keller says, looking at McCray. She focuses her attention on Mrs. Belov. “You’re right. This needs to stop.”

She’s praying the Bureau, the rest of the task force, will be there soon. She can see McCray writhing on the ground in her peripheral.

She should’ve listened to Bob. They should’ve waited for backup.

Natasha’s father’s expression is pure devastation. Mixed with something else: fury. He holds up a phone. “She recorded it. Her last moments.”

Keller eyes the cell phone in the sparkly case.

Mr. Belov’s voice breaks. He’s still holding up the phone in one hand, his gun in the other. “Do you know what they did to my daughter?”

Natasha must have made a video recording, maybe for someone to find, maybe to text to her parents. A dying declaration.

“She was so happy before. So excited about going to college. Then…”

“Your wife is right, Mr. Belov,” Keller says. “This won’t bring her back.”

“Maybe not.” His jaw clenches. “But it will remove terrible people from this planet. Make them feel what she felt.”

“They’re kids, Mr. Belov.”

“Kids who chased her into that cave to die.”

“We don’t know that.”

His face contorts with anger. “ I know that.” He shakes the phone in his hand.

Keller’s mind races. She could run, try to elude them in the darkness, but he’ll shoot. He’s proven that.

Mrs. Belov walks over to her husband, says something Keller can’t hear, possibly pleading with him.

Keller’s gut roils when the wife shakes her head violently and Mr. Belov pushes her aside. Keller sees resolve in his expression.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

He raises the gun and directs it at Keller’s center mass.

Before he shoots, a voice cuts through the night.

“Stop! They didn’t hurt Natasha. Neither did my friends.” A young man emerges from the darkness, looking exhausted.

Mr. Belov whirls around.

Standing with his hands raised is Felix Goffman. He’s soaking wet.

“Get back,” Mr. Belov says. He moves the gun back and forth between Keller and Felix.

“Just listen to me,” he tells Natasha’s father. “I… I was out of it the night Natasha died… alcohol and drugs,” he admits. “I was walking on the beach and heard a scream, so I ran to the bonfire. I found her there, passed out, covered in what I thought was blood. I checked her pulse, I did my best anyway. I didn’t know it was a prank, that the blood wasn’t real. I didn’t know she was passed out, I thought she was gone.”

Mr. Belov glowers at Felix. Keller looks back at McCray; his eyes are still open and his chest heaves shallowly.

“I didn’t want my friends to get in trouble!” Felix cries. “I thought it was just the drugs, everyone was out of their minds. So I carried her down the beach. Near the dunes. I thought she was already dead—”

“Lies.”

“No,” Felix says. “And my friends didn’t know about this. I told them she ran off after the prank.”

“You’re lying. You harassed her! You threatened her. You stalked her!”

Felix appears confused. “No, I never—”

“Enough!” bellows Mr. Belov. “I found the texts on her phone. She saved them all. You sent my daughter thirty-seven texts on the day she died! You harassed her for more than a year! She begged you to stop bothering her.”

Felix shakes his head, clearly alarmed. “No! Listen: I wasn’t even a student here last year. I didn’t even meet her until—”

“The news reports say you’re a stalker, a creep. My daughter saved your contact as ‘Dr. Creep.’ Stop lying!”

Keller sees understanding dawn on Felix’s face. “It wasn’t me texting her,” he says. “But I know who it was.”

Mr. Belov aims his gun at Felix. Keller considers charging him, but Belov’s wife now has Keller’s own gun pointed at her.

“Who was it, then?” Belov asks, his chin rising up.

“I promise I’ll tell you, I’ll even take you to him. But you have to let my friends come out of the cave first.”

Mr. Belov seems to ponder this. Then he walks up to Felix and puts the gun to his head. “You’re going to take me to this person now.”

Belov pushes Felix ahead of him, away from the cave. He tells his wife, “If the agent moves or any of them come out of the cave, shoot them. I’ll return soon.”

A distraught Mrs. Belov holds the gun weakly in her hand but nods.

“Be strong. For Natasha,” he says.

Then Mr. Belov marches Felix into the darkness.