But nothing is that simple. That unhinged killer is the only one who truly sees me, who understands what I need. He’s doing what I couldn’t. When everyone else has failed me, he’s brought me the justice I’ve been robbed.
Tristan’s eyes narrow. “That’s what I thought.”
“You don’t understand,” I whisper.
“Oh, I do, Birdie. Trust me.”
I have no time for this. “Then take me to the lighthouse.”
“No!” He waves a hand angrily at the box. “There are only two things we can do right now. You just sit here while I get rid of this shit or we call the cops and we deal with the consequencesbefore the situation escalates beyond containment. I’m not gonna let you destroy yourself over that bastard.”
“I won’t, I swear. We’re just going to drive there and take a walk. No one will suspect anything. I go there all the time, and everybody knows it.”
“At four in the morning?”
“I’m having trouble sleeping, and I thought the beach air might help, or I want to watch the sunrise because it’ll inspire me… I don’t know, if it comes down to being questioned, I’ll come up with something.”
“Like you always do.”
“Yes, like I always do. Because everything is a story, and I’m the storyteller. Now, please, take us there, Tristan. He left me that clue because he wants me to see whatever is there, and I don’t wish to disobey him. Not after what he’s done to me tonight.”
“Why can’t you see that this is too dangerous?”
“Not as dangerous as provoking him again. Do you not want to know whom he might have killed? To find out if it’s all over?”
“It’s not over, and you know it. This is a trap.”
“Perhaps, but what if we don’t go and he punishes us by leaving something there that could incriminate us?”
His head jerks at me, and concern flashes across his face. “Fuck.”
“Yes, fuck, so please start the goddamn car.”
His nostrils flare as he lifts his wrist to his mouth. “Marcus, Brandon, do you copy?”
A faint crackle comes from his earpiece before he says, “We’re heading to Edgartown Lighthouse. I need you two to follow us but keep your distance. Stay out of sight unless I give the signal. Understood?”
Another crackle.
“The rest of you, stay on high alert,” he continues. “Secure the house. If anyone, and I mean anyone so much as approaches the perimeter, engage to kill. Clear?”
My heart skips a beat. “What?”
“I repeat, engage to kill.” His eyes dare me as he turns the key in the ignition, the engine roaring to life. “You do things your way, and I’ll do things mine.”
My stomach ties into one knot after another. I text Spencer the second we move, a casual request to let me inside the lighthouse if possible. The timing and sending location could be used as evidence; I was nowhere near the lighthouse—the crime scene.
The drive to the lighthouse is eerily quiet. The roads are empty, the world oblivious to the flames licking us unsatisfied until nothing is left but ash.
As we round the final bend, the lighthouse comes into view, stark white against the inky sky. Flashes of red and blue surround the parking lot.
“Fuck,” Tristan mutters, slowing the car to a crawl. “That complicates things.”
“The police are already there. Itisa crime scene.”
“And we have incriminating evidence right here in the car.”
My eyes widen at the box. “What are we going to do?”