Page 49 of This is Why We Lied

“Unless it’s not Dave,” he allowed. “Then we’ll know pretty fast if someone else is involved. They’ll either be covered in blood, or they won’t come out. Or they’ll have the broken knife handle hidden somewhere. We’ll need to search all the cottages and the main house.”

“Are you allowed to do that?”

“Exigent circumstances. The killer escaped from the scene. There could be other victims. Are you ready?”

“Wait a second.” Sara went back to the bathroom and brought out a white jacket that probably belonged to the chef. “Put this on. I’ll bring you something from the cottage to change into.”

She helped him into the jacket. It was so tight across the shoulders that Sara struggled with the buttons. The thick material gaped open at the bottom, but there was nothing to be done about it. She knelt down and tied the lace on his boot. Will remembered that she was still barefooted. He took his socks out of his pocket and offered them to her.

“Thank you.” Sara’s eyes stayed on his as she put them on. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”

He wasn’t worried about himself. It occurred to Will that he was sending his wife to their cottage, the farthest cottage from the main compound, alone at night with a killer on the loose. “Maybe I should come with you.”

“No. Go do your job.” She pressed her lips to his cheek for a second longer than usual. “The family will probably want to make sure Mercy isn’t alone all night. Tell them I’ll sit with the body until she can be removed.”

Will touched his hand to her face. Her compassion was one of the many reasons why he loved her.

He said, “Let’s go.”

They split up when the Chow Trail hit the Loop. The clouds had shifted with the coming rain, obscuring the full moon. Will felt all of his senses on alert. It was so dark that Dave could be standing ten feet in front of him and Will would have no idea. He picked up the pace, jogging toward the house, ignoring the tweak in his ankle. The burning pain in his hand got pushed down on the list of things he had to worry about.

Sara was right about considering other possible suspects, but not for the reasons she’d stated. One day, Will was going to be called to testify about this night in front of a jury. He was going to make sure he could honestly say he’d considered other suspects. There were going to be no mistakes in this investigation that a defense attorney could use to pry apart a conviction. Will owed that to Mercy.

He especially owed that to Jon.

The wooden post with the ancient-looking bell on top was a few feet from the main house. Will felt like a lifetime had passed since he’d stood by the porch stairs eating brownies and potato chips. The day flashed before his eyes, but instead of the things he’d thought he’d remember from his honeymoon—Sara’s smile, the hike to the lodge, holding her in his arms while she fell asleep in the bathtub—he was remembering all the points of tension that had spoked out from Mercy McAlpine on the day she had been brutally murdered.

Dave had strangled her. Chuck had enraged her. Keisha had pissed her off about the water glasses. Jon had humiliated her in front of a crowd. Cecil had been cruel. Bitty had been frosty. Christopher had been cowardly. The horse-crazy woman had clearly pissed off Mercy when she’d asked for a tour of the pastures. The chef had stayed inside the kitchen when Jon had caused a scene. Maybe the lying app guys were hiding something from Mercy. Maybe the dentist or the IT guy or the bartender or—

Will didn’t have time for maybes. He reached for the rope and pulled. The sound the bell made was more like a clang than a ring. He yanked the rope a few more times. The noise was obscene in the silence, but what had happened to Mercy at the lake was the definition of depraved.

He was reaching for the rope again when lights started to come on. First inside the main house. The curtain twitched in one of the windows on the top floor. Will saw Bitty dressed in her robe, scowling as she looked down. Another second-story light came on, this one in the far back corner. There was a popping noise as floodlights sparked on around the perimeter of the compound. Will hadn’t noticed the fixtures in the trees during the daytime, but he was grateful for them now because he could see the layout of the entire area.

The windows in two of the cottages were glowing like every lamp had been switched on. He saw Gordon come onto his porch. The man was wearing black bikini briefs and nothing else. Landry/Paul was nowhere to be seen. Two cottages away, Chuck stumbled down the stairs wearing a yellow bathrobe with a rubber duck pattern. He cinched the terry cloth material closed, but not before Will saw that he was naked underneath.

The lights clicked on in another cottage. Will expected to see Keisha and Drew, but Frank opened the door in a white undershirt and boxers. He adjusted his glasses. He looked startled to find Will. He asked, “Is everything okay?”

Will was about to answer when he heard the door to the main house groan open.

“Who’s out there?” Cecil McAlpine’s chair rolled onto the porch. He was shirtless. Deep scars crisscrossed his chest. They were straight slashes, like he’d lain on pieces of sharp metal. “Bitty? Who rang the bell?”

“I have no idea.” Bitty stood behind her husband, face twisted by anxiety as she tightened the sash on her dark red robe. She asked Will, “What the hell is going on?”

Will raised his voice. “I need everyone outside.”

“Why?” Cecil demanded. “Who the hell are you to tell us what to do?”

“I’m a special agent with the Georgia Bureau of Investigation,” Will announced. “I need everyone outside right now.”

“Special agent, huh?” Gordon glanced back into his cottage before he casually walked down the stairs.

Still no Landry.

“I’m sorry.” Frank had stayed put on the porch. “Monica’s out of it. She had a bit too much to drink and—”

“Bring her out here.” Will started walking toward Gordon’s cottage. “Where’s Paul?”

“In the shower.” Gordon didn’t correct him on the name. “What are you—”