AUGUST 7

DAKOTA

The star-shaped badge was the first detail I processed. I had a clear view out the door from where I stood and saw Sheriff Wakeman approaching the lighthouse. As far as I could tell, she was alone. Relief flooded through me in waves. I needed Allix as far away from potential harm as possible. That was why I didn't tell her about going to Cape Blue to confront Mike.

"Mike, we can still talk this through," I said, even though I didn't believe it. However, if by some miracle we could cooperate, we stood a chance of resolving this without causing any kind of collateral damage.

Mike vehemently shook his head. "You've fucked us over now," he proclaimed and gave me a quick, menacing look before conjuring a smile worthy of the red carpet. "Sheriff, I'm afraid this is a false alarm," he called out, his arms stretching out in a gallant gesture. "There's absolutely nothing to be concerned about."

As Wakeman stepped through the door, Syd poked me in the shoulder.

"We need to get out of here," he said in a low murmur, and his eyes shifted over to Maud, who stood a few feet away from us. "She must know something we don't."

I nodded but didn't dare respond. When Allix said don't try anything you'll regret tomorrow, I assumed this was precisely what she'd meant. I wasn't entirely sure how this scene was going to play out, but I wasn't interested in standing around and waiting for something to happen. That wasn't my way of dealing with things. Not anymore.

"Mr. Black," Wakeman greeted, her voice sounding strangely hollow. I felt my brow furrow.

"Sheriff," I returned. I clung to my composure like a lifeline. "Is there something we can do for you?"

"I'm responding to a call," Wakeman stated plainly. Her eyes slowly scanned the room, taking in the presence of the three other people.

"We're preparing a night shoot," I said, gesturing to Mike. "Mike has more experience than I do in that respect."

I deliberately avoided giving Wakeman a reason as to why Maud and Syd were here, but I didn't need to. I was the boss, and people still seemed to forget that.

"In many respects, actually," Mike retorted, tugging at the collar of his brown leather jacket.

"Where's Allix?" Maud abruptly asked Wakeman, regretfully confirming my suspicions that Allix was here but just not here. I didn't know whether to be concerned or relieved.

"If you guys want to go find your little friend, then that's fine by me," Mike offered. "We can all walk away and forget that any of this happened. That's the best-case scenario for all of us. "

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Syd glance at me with a deliberate yet unreadable expression on his face. This was one of those times when I wished that we'd followed through on our childhood goal of developing a secret language.

Wakeman cleared her throat. "Mr. Bennett, I'm requesting that you join me at the station. There are a few subject matters that I-"

"With all do respect, no," Mike bit back with a renewed edge in his voice. "If you're not arresting me, I can walk out of here at any time."

"Everything that you've done will come out," Maud said in a low voice, balling her hands into fists at her sides. "Everything eventually does. There's only so much evidence you can cover up, especially when it's our word against yours."

"You're not going to get away with this," Mike objected haughtily, waving a finger at us. "You're all trying to frame me."

To make matters worse, I noticed Maud's phone sticking out the pocket of her rain jacket, and I was ready to bet my life that she was recording the conversation. I knew that Maud's memory of what happened to her on the night of July 10th was murky due to being whacked on the head and nearly drowning. Not remembering those important details was obviously not her fault, but it made piecing together the facts all the more challenging.

For starters, we didn't know if Zachary had been murdered before or after Maud nearly drowned. The FIPD patrol boat had found Maud only a short time after I'd found Zachary, but that information wasn't enough to help pretend detectives like us. However, that didn't make recording this conversation a wise move; Maud was endangering herself, and a multitude of terrible things could unfold if Mike noticed.

With my attention locked in on Maud, I didn't immediately process what Mike removed from the inside of his jacket. It wasn't until Syd inhaled a sharp breath of shock and took a step back that I looked at the producer. Time seemed to go still for a moment as we all registered the appearance of the gun. It looked so ridiculously out of place that for a split second, I assumed it was a prop from the set.

"Mr. Bennett," Wakeman began, her voice eerily calm as she drew her own weapon from her holster. "I need you to drop the weapon on the ground and put your hands behind your head."

Mike shook his head. "You're going to let me walk away from here. I've done nothing wrong."

As much as I wanted to point out that threatening us with a gun constituted wrong, I refrained from doing so. I wouldn't risk escalating the situation.

"Mike, we have a job to do," I breathed out. The rest of the cast and crew would arrive within the hour. "Remember?"

"And you don't have to do this," Syd added, taking a slow step forward with his hands raised and eyes on the gun.

"It wasn't me!" Mike bellowed, his grip on the gun tightening as he aimed it directly at me. "For me to murder someone, wouldn't you think that I would need to have a better motive than becoming an executive producer of one singular TV show that has yet to air?"

"Okay," I nodded, refraining from looking at the gun. Maybe if I closed my eyes, I could somehow rewind this scene and never press play again. "Okay, I hear you. I believe you."

"No, you don't!"

"Put down the gun, Mr. Bennett," Wakeman ordered, daring to take a step closer to us with her gun pointed at Mike. Her gaze was sharp, and every move she made looked calculated.

For nearly the entire summer, my friends were firm believers in the 'Conrad Kane is the bad guy because he wants more fame and recognition' theory, and then that same theory applied to Mike when Conrad stepped down.

People would do crazy things for attention. I knew that.

The truth was, I should've been relieved that Wakeman was here, but there was one obscure detail holding me back, and I was only now understanding what that was.

Allix would've never called Wakeman.

Sirens went off inside my head as my thoughts crumbled into a landslide.

Wakeman was the one leading the investigation. There was no one else on Friday Island who could question her decisions. She was the apex predator.

I wouldn't have been able to script this moment even if I'd sat down at the start of the summer and tried to.

"You." My tone was cold, level, and vindictive. It stole Wakeman's attention away from Mike, her eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly.

"The evidence collected will lead the department to who is responsible," Wakeman cooly replied.

With Mike holding a gun, she had us right where she needed us to be: at a scene prepped for a crime. In my peripheral vision, I saw Maud's head snap in Wakeman's direction. She was deciphering my one-word sentence.

"You planted the evidence at Albert's house," Maud accused. "You wanted me to find that book."

Taking advantage of the brief stretch of silence, Syd launched himself at Mike, locking his hands around the barrel of the gun, and struggled to aim it at the ground as the producer fought back. Unable to locate the weapon amidst the hands, I moved forward to join the fray, adrenaline searing through my veins. Wakeman ordered us to stop, and Maud's cry of warning fell on deaf ears when it happened.

A shot fired out, deafening within the small space. Beside me, Syd stumbled back a step, shuddering, but then stood frozen in space.

*

One for the money.

Two for the show.

I inhaled three sharp breaths before I realized what had happened.

The gun clattered to the floor as Mike dropped it, a look of sheer horror spreading across his features as he backed away.

"No," Mike muttered. "No, that's not what I-"
The rest of his sentence died as Wakeman, moving surprisingly fast, shoved him against the opposite wall.

With my ears still clogged from the sound of the gunshot, my eyes flew to Syd since he'd stood closest to the weapon when it fired. He was still standing upright and miraculously unharmed, but his gaze ricocheted around the room. When his eyes met mine, his jaw went slack.

That was when I realized.

I looked down.

For a moment, the navy fabric of my shirt hid the stain blooming across my abdomen. But then that moment passed, crimson staining my fingertips as I stumbled back against the wall behind me and sank to sit on the floor.

The pain morphed from a prickle into something blinding and all-consuming. It was a sensation so intense that almost convinced me that this was the first real thing I'd felt in my life.

"Don't," Syd blurted out, appearing beside me. His hands hovered over me, seeming unsure of how to hold me. It wasn't something we'd learned in school. He ultimately pressed both hands over mine, but it did little to stop the blood from seeping out of the wound. "You don't get to do this. This isn't how you write the god damn ending, okay? We're going to find out the truth, and we're going to make this right."

"Wakeman," I croaked. I needed to say it while I still could. "It's her."

"I know," Maud assured me, her voice like glass. She put a delicate hand on my shoulder. "You did it. We're still doing it."

I tried to smile. Every breath I took was weaker than the next, seeming to get caught in my throat, and there was a fire in my lungs I couldn't extinguish. I didn't have the strength to focus on where Wakeman and Mike were, or if the three of us were still in danger.

Syd's mouth curved around words, but everything suddenly muted, and the taste of blood in my mouth warned me that I was short on time. When I closed my eyes, the scene would proceed without me.

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ONE (1). CHAPTER. LEFT.