AUGUST 7

MAUD

Aside from the drizzling of the rain and the distant crying of seagulls, the woods were quiet. I tried to keep my breathing steady, but my nerves were no longer just a prickle inside my chest that I could ignore. My entire body seemed to ache.

After continuing down the trail for ten minutes, the sound of waves beating against the rocky cliffside accompanied the sight of Cape Blue's lighthouse that peaked out from behind the pine trees. 

Beside me, Allix's expression was vacant and her complexion ghostly pale.  The dark circles beneath her eyes made them appear even bluer and more alert as she scanned the treeline.

Whenever a situation started to go downhill, Allix never resorted to externally freaking out because all of that transpired on the inside. At least that was how she handled her emotions until she reached her breaking point, and it was like lightning striking up a fire on the savannah during the dry season.

I needed to prevent that from happening.

"Should we call Wakeman?" I blurted out. "Or is there someone else we should call in case things go south?"

"I'd rather not cross paths with her again," Allix admitted wearily, toying with one of her gold rings as she walked. "You'd think that me being the one to call in the tip about the harpoon would cancel out the whole breaking into Conrad's trailer ordeal, but apparently not."

I schooled myself to refrain from issuing a terse response. "Listen, I think we need to trust the process or whatever the hell that sports mantra says about keeping the faith when things look bad."

When Allix didn't immediately reply, I heaved out a frustrated sigh. "The department is getting a lot of attention because of this. If people don't think Wakeman is handling the case well, she could be forced to step down."

Allix worked her jaw, grim-faced. "Let's just go stop the boys from doing anything else stupid."

I nodded, my vocal cords temporarily constricting. Anything that I wanted to say to her was worth more in the silence.

The rain continued to fall, soft enough that I couldn't detect the individual droplets. Pale light filtered through the spaces between the large branches tangling overhead, and the dewiness of the air enhances the thick smell of pine.

A few minutes later, Allix stopped in her tracks and rolled back her shoulder blades as she looked at me. "Something doesn't feel right."

"That's exactly why we are here." I grabbed Allix's thin forearm in an attempt to drag her down the trail. "Let's go."

Shaking her head, Allix tugged her arm away and took a definitive step back. The dirt scraped in protest beneath her Converse. "I think there's something that we aren't seeing. We should go back to get more help."

All of a sudden, it felt like May 16th all over again.

I felt my cheeks redden with anger, and I slowed my breathing as I stared at Allix. I was failing to understand her logic. On Friday Island, Allix had a reputation for being the eloquent and rational one, and I was apparently hostile and outwardly stubborn.

Allix and her silver tongue could effortlessly circumnavigate trouble, always managing to come out on the other side better than she'd started. She was the queen of self-preservation, and sure, she'd endured hardships, but so had the rest of us.

She didn't get to be let off the hook every damn time, and I was about to make sure of that.

"You can't be serious," I seethed, and Allix lifted her chin in quiet rebellion. The cold sea breeze rattled the trees around us. "Dakota and Syd could be in serious trouble. We can't just abandon them."

"But what if they need more help than we can give them?" Allix demanded. She retrieved her phone from her jacket and held it up in front of my face. "We don't have cell service. What happens if this is the worst-case scenario, and we don't have a way to call for help? I don't think I would ever be able to forgive myself if I thought there was more I could've done to prevent..."

She trails off, but I knew the direction her sentence was taking. Fatal consequences weren't outside the realm of possibility. They had never been.

I took Allix by her bony shoulders and searched her stricken expression. "Allix, I trust you, okay? I trust your instincts or your sixth sense or whatever it is that you want to call it, but I can't turn back now. I'm going to the lighthouse."

"I know." Allix slipped off a strap of her backpack, and unzipped it to remove the crowbar. When she held it out to me, her intentions became clear. "I'm going to go back to the parking lot where there's cell service, and then I'll catch up. You know I'm a good runner."

I hesitated for a beat, unable to dismiss the feeling of dread that was coiling inside my stomach like a boa constrictor. If there was one thing that horror movies taught you, it was that splitting up was never a good idea. But for better or worse, we were both headstrong and decisive, and I knew that neither of us would cave in. Splitting up was how we would compromise.

I accepted the crowbar with a small nod, the iron cold in my hand. "Run fast."

It was only after Allix vanished around the curve of the trail that I realized that I hadn't asked who she was planning to call. That probably would've been a useful tidbit of information for me to possess before forging ahead on what was now a solo mission.

Hauling in a shaky breath, I continued down the trail. I concentrated on my footing, determined not to be that girl who tripped over a root or random branch. Five minutes later, I reached the end of the trail and came to a stop. I took my phone out of the pocket of my raincoat and frowned when I saw that it still didn't have service.

I glanced over my shoulder, half expecting to see Allix materialize from the trees, but she didn't. There was a gnawing voice in the back of my head that said Allix should've been back by now, and I knew that ignoring it would only do more harm than good.

"Where are you?" I whispered, my eyes wandering back up the trail.

The woods were still eerily quiet and empty, but the sea in front of me seemed to have a voice of its own - waves colliding against one another and crashing onto the rocks. When I looked back ahead towards the lighthouse, trepidation ricocheted through my body, making my legs feel like noodles.

It was always easier to be brave in theory.

The door to the lighthouse stood slightly ajar and I approached it at an angle so that I stayed out of view. Even though I knew which three people were inside, this moment felt strikingly reminiscent of when I was inside the boathouse on July 10th.

It was Dakota's voice that I heard first.

"All I want to do is have an honest conversation."

"There's nothing honest about making baseless accusations," replied a deep and mature voice that I could only assume belonged to Mike Bennett. "I didn't blackmail anyone, and you're grasping at straws."

Swiping through my phone, I opened the Voice Memos app and pressed the red circle that began to record. I could only pray that I was standing close enough for the device to pick up the conversation.

"Zachary said he had another client," Syd said, calm yet commanding. For all his comedic shenanigans, he was still one of the most steadfast and reliable people I knew. No wonder we all looked to him for guidance and confided in him.

"That wasn't me," Mike adamantly defended.

"Then what part was?" Dakota questioned. His voice was low, but his rage was audible. "Apex is mine. If you ever want to have another job in Hollywood, then you better not say one more goddamn lie."

Silence followed Dakota's words, and I dared to peek around the door. I saw Mike with his back to me and the two boys facing him.

As the silence ensued, Mike's posture went rigid. "The only thing I'm guilty of is giving that paparazzo the screenplay."

The crowbar dropped into the sand with a soft thud as I lifted both hands to cover my mouth as I gasped. If this was true, then Zachary knew everything about Apex and could've sold them to his clients. To his other high-paying clients.

Dakota's dark eyes narrowed, seeming to arrive at the same conclusion as me. "You gave Zachary Healy the screenplay?"

"Zachary said he could make it look like Conrad was the one leaking it," Mike explained hastily. "Everyone with eyes knows about his relationship with Gretchen England. Between exposing that and the rumors about releasing the screenplay to the press, that should've been enough to get him to step down."

"Except he didn't," Dakota practically growled.

I bit down on the inside of my cheek as Mike took a step towards Dakota, pointing an accusatory finger at his face. "We make a good team, Dakota. Two UCLA boys revamping the industry-"

"You wanted me to turn on Conrad," Dakota interrupted, raising his voice for the first time. "You tried to compare him to Weinstein."

Before Mike could reply, Syd intervened, "Did you give Zachary the screenplay before May 16th? Was it before Albert killed the orca?"

Mike's eyes flashed dangerously. "Yes, but I had nothing to do with that! I didn't know Albert."

The conviction in Mike's voice sent goosebumps dancing up my arms. I craned my neck, desperate to get a better look at the boys' expression. While Syd remained stoic, Dakota's rage seemed to radiate off him in waves as volatile as those rushing ashore.

"I know that's not true," Dakota objected. "Conrad had you and Myles consulting with him for marine biology."

"Fine, we spoke a few times!" Mike blurted out. "I spoke to Nakamura, too. Hell, I thought when the police escorted him out of the Whaling Museum in handcuffs that he was fucked."

My breathing hitched. I never found out why Grandfather resisted questioning by the police, but I knew that if there was probable cause, they didn't need a warrant to arrest. Besides, detained was the proper terminology associated with his case. No charges were brought against him, making me question Wakeman's thought process.

"Was it because you knew that in the screenplay, the person responsible for killing the orca was the owner of a local whale-watching company?" Syd asked.

"Listen, you're clearly trying to frame me and I'm not the one responsible," Mike fired back. "I knew I would benefit from Conrad going down, and so when Zachary asked for that screenplay, I sent it."

Unwilling to stay out of sight any longer, I stepped through the door. A cold gust of wind followed me, tugging dark strands of hair into my face as I stared down Mike.

"Christ," Dakota said, turning to look at Syd. "You told her?"

"You know why I did," Syd retorted, glancing at Dakota without a trace of regret on his face. He'd known I'd come. If the circumstances weren't so dire, I would've been impressed. He knew me better than anyone.

Dakota's dark gaze drifted in the direction of the door and he suddenly stiffened. "You're alone?"

I understood what he was really asking. He wanted to know if Allix was here too.

"I won't be for long," I said, remaining intentionally vague. As I eyed Mike, I realized that none of us knew what he was capable of and hoped the recording could implicate him somehow. "How are we supposed to believe a word you're saying?"

Mike shook his head, seemingly amused by my question. His sharp gaze skated over to Dakota, his whole demeanor changing to something more hostile. "They will bury you alive, Dakota, but if by some miracle they don't, rumors will follow you around like ghosts forever. There will always be people who think you're guilty."

"I don't believe that," Dakota shook his head.

Mike's sardonic laugh bounced off of the walls and I flinched. I briefly met Syd's gaze; his expression changed marginally as he sent me a warning look. We were standing in a tinderbox, and everyone was ready to strike a match.

"It doesn't matter what you believe or even what the police do," Mike explained. "When I had to make a choice, I chose my career, and you're a fool for thinking that you would've chosen differently. I bet you can still make that choice, and we can get out of this together. We will come out on top."

"Ignore him," Syd instructed boldly. "That's not you, Dakota. We know that, and so do you."

Dakota remained quiet, likely weighing the costs. When he glanced down at the watch on his wrist, I knew he'd made up his mind.

Mike gestured towards the open door. "Now that we've had an honest conversation, we should get back to work. And even if you still think I did it, you can't prove it."

I moved without thinking, blocking the path to the door before Mike could come any closer. My mind latched onto a memory from July 10th when I'd stood inside the boathouse, listening to Zachary and Brenna.

You're not my only client who took an interest in her.

Zachary's face would haunt me for the rest of my life, but I never thought he deserved to die. He was a parasite, feeding off of the misfortune and tragedy on Friday Island, but he couldn't have been the one reaping all of the benefits. Someone wanted me dead, and that someone was the same person who killed Zachary. Mike was pathetic and self-centered, but I doubted he was a murderer.

Murder wasn't something you can sweep under the rug on a small island, and while Mike had plenty of money, he didn't have the resources to pull off an elaborate cover-up.

"I heard Zachary say that he had another client," I began, my heart beating hard inside my chest. "But if you gave him the screenplay, he wouldn't have been talking about you."

Mike's mouth curled up into a wry smile, one that chilled me to the bone. "Correct, and curiosity killed the cat. I don't want to be the next cat."

"None of us are cats!" Dakota countered, and I resisted the sudden urge to laugh. This wasn't the time for laughter. "You're right, Mike. We've talked, and we can move on, for now."

I clenched my jaw to stop myself from arguing with him.

The rest of the cast and crew were due to arrive within the hour, and I doubted we would have an opportunity like this again. However, I had to respect Dakota's decision. Even if confronting Mike was reckless, Dakota was smart. If he thought it was time to wrap up our interrogation, then that was likely the best call.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Mike suddenly snapped, yanking me out of my reverie. "You called the cops?"

Before I could refute Mike's claim, I heard footsteps approaching. I whirled around, and exhaled a tight breath.

Allix had called for help.