“To get away with murder,” Allie says softly.
We all look at each other, taking in the horror.
Allie continues. “WhenDateline’sinformation went public, one of my Redditors made a long post about how she went to high school with Leo. He was a couple years ahead of her, so she didn’t know him super well, but they had one class together. This was right before Camas Creek,” Allie explains. “He wasn’t popular—he was this puny, awkward kid. She felt bad for him at first, because he always ate lunch alone. But she said that over time she stopped feeling bad for him … nothing over the top, just little things she noticed. Like, when the class learned that their teacher was taking some time off for cancer treatment, Leo smirked at anybody who cried. And another time, she saw him sort of hunched against the lockers. She went over to see if he was okay and realized he’d caught a grasshopper and was slowly smashing it through one of the locker vents.”
Even after everything I’ve seen in the past hour, my insides clench at the image.
Allie keeps going. “So yeah, there was something off about Leo. The girl in my subreddit saw his mom once, in the parking lot after school. Cindy Marsden was the CEO of one of those sports warehouse stores, super successful. She drove this gigantic green Jeep, and she looked like an Under Armour model. She was wearing an adorable athleisure set, and she had her hair and makeup done up. The Redditor remembered it, because Cindy Marsden looked nothing like she would’ve expected Leo’s mom to be. She was pretty and put-together and glamorous, and Leo was … the opposite. Anyway, toward the end of the school year, there were rumors that Cindy Marsden was going to send Leo to some rafting camp in Utah. Set him straight. Basically, one of those ‘turn your life around for Jesus’ type bootcamps.”
Allie glances at me, like she expects I might interrupt for some reason. I just nod for her to go on.
“The camp was supposed to go all summer. But then, in the middle of July, the news about the Camas Creek Murders blew up. Nobody knew what happened exactly, but the Redditor thinks Leo got kicked out of the camp, and since his mom was some sports outfitter bigwig, she managed to get them both a spot going down the Middle Fork of the Garnet. Like, maybe she was going to ‘set him straight’ in the wilderness herself.”
Deborah and Pam both try to speak at the same time, but Allie talks over them. “Remember, back then, Rapids UnlimitedwasIdaho Thrills. And get this … Their rafts were neon orange andblueback then. Not bright green and orange. Just like the AI image OneSadRealm posted.”
Pam interjects. “So he smuggled a knife and wire in his bag and killed his mom and everybody else at Camas Creek because she made him go on arafting trip? That doesn’t make sense.” Pam shakes her head. “And why didn’t the police uncover any of this when the murders happened?”
“I wondered the same thing,” Allie says. “But remember, Leo Marsden was the only witness at Camas Creek, and his survival story made him the hero. There wouldn’t have been any real evidence he was lying. And the media ran with the story that he was this poor victim who lost his mom.”
She purses her lips. “Think about it … If the Redditor was right, if he was smashing grasshoppers through locker vents and laughing about a teacher getting cancer … those areabsolutelypotential signs of psychopathy. But even if the police knew that stuff, it’s not like they could arrest him for being a dick. Besides, the crime scene was completely fucked for forensics. The bodies were in terrible shape by the time they were recovered, and any evidence was socontaminated by river water …” Allie trails off, as if waiting for us to protest, but nobody says a word.
This theory is outrageous, but so is the situation we’re in right now. I blink into the darkness as the horrifying puzzle pieces fall into place, one after another.
Even Deborah stays quiet. She gives a tight-lipped shake of the head and keeps her eyes on Imani.
Allie finally goes on, more slowly now. “After the murders, Leo Marsden completely disappeared from the public eye—no interviews. People figured he was just completely traumatized, and he was a minor, too. There were rumors he changed his name—”
“To Bryan,” I murmur.
“Yeah, that would be my guess,” Allie replies, her voice steely. “There’s only one photo of him circulating online. I’ve seen it a dozen times. His junior yearbook photo. He’s covered in acne, braces, greasy black hair down to his shoulders.” She shudders. “I keep thinking about that photo, trying to time-lapse it into that piece of shit.” She jerks her thumb over her shoulder but doesn’t look back. “It’s just … I didn’t feel even a flicker of recognition when I first saw him on this trip. Nothing. I felt bad for him, because the other guides seemed so down on him. And he’s gained weight, grown up, bleached his hair, and that beard … but I’m a fuckingtrue-crime junkie.I should’ve looked in his eyes and known it was him. None of you would’ve known it’s him, butIshould have. I know this case inside and out.” Allie’s voice is strained now. “I should be able to spot a psychopath.”
A strange, snorting sound comes from behind us.
By the time my brain registers the fact that it’s a laugh, I’m staring at the nose of the green gear raft gliding quietly toward us, less than ten yards away.
“Hilarious,” Bryan calls. “I recognized you right away.”
“Pursuit on moving water favors the pursuer. The downstream party must constantly look back; the upstream party need only look forward.”
—Tactical River Operations(restricted circulation)
25
Deborah and Allie grab hold of their paddles without a word, leaping into position along the sides of the raft to row in time with me and Pam.
“You know, Allie’s actually kind of a big deal online,” Bryan—Leo—calls, his voice terrifyingly clear over the steady flow of the river. “Dateline quoted her in their ‘True Crime Weekly’ blog about her ‘thriving community of true crime enthusiasts,’ along with a big photo of her perky little face. Thanks for always standing up for me on Reddit, Allie!” He laughs again. “I know it’s just because you wanted to kiss your followers’ asses, since most of them were pretty upset that poor Leo’s name was getting dragged through the mud. You’re a pretentious little bitch, but I appreciate you anyway!”
“Fuck you,” Allie spits, rowing even faster. The buffer between our rafts grows yard by yard, and she raises her voice to scream at him. “You aren’t going to get away with this again. Nobody is going to believe you survived two different massacres—”
His laugh cuts her off, so loud and raucous it sounds like he’s choking.
The sound makes me want to cover my ears.
When he finally composes himself, he crows, “You might be a big deal online, but you’re not that smart, are you?” He snickers. “You think I’mworriedabout getting credit for myopus?You dumb bitch. It’s been hard as fuck watching Kellen Stroop get all the glory for the past seven years. Worth it, though, because … I mean, duh, look at how well everything is going now. I get to do thistwice.”
His words knock the wind out of me.
I can’t breathe.