Slasher Summer(74)

Carrie hunched beside him, hands over her mouth like she was praying or trying hard not to throw up. Probably both. “Freddy’s dead, too,” she said weakly. “I should’ve never run away from him. I was so stupid.”

“Then you probably would’ve been killed, too. Did you see who did it?” Patrick asked.

Carrie shook her head, wiping her eyes. “No. After we all fell down the hill, I went back to the cabin. I peeked through the windows and saw Freddy’s body, but I didn’t see anyone else. I heard a motorboat, so I ran to the lake to get their attention. I thought they could help. But then—” She gulped. “I heard Tiffany scream. I—I freaked out. I ran to the trees and hid. It’s all my fault, Patrick. Tiffany and I had our differences, but she didn’t deserve this.”

Carrie broke down into a fresh wave of sobs. He drew her into a hug. Her clammy skin burned against his, although maybe he was just chilled from their predicament. “There was nothing you could do,” he said soothingly. There was nothing any of them could’ve done.

She buried her face in his chest, her tears hot against his shoulder. “When it got quiet, I came out of the woods and saw her floating in the water. I was trying to bring her to shore. To put her to rest. For Jason.” Her breath hitched. “I figured I could do that much.”

Patrick patted her back, murmuring comforting words even as his spine tingled. They were definitely at the last act. Carrie, their Final Girl, had been baptized by blood and tears.

“Why is he doing this?” she said. “What does Russ Meachum have against us?”

Patrick’s lips thinned. “It’s not Russ.”

“How do you know? Who else could it be?”

“Carrie!”

The voice was male, calling from the cabin’s back patio. Patrick turned abruptly but saw only the dark shape of the barbecue standing by the kitchen door.

“Michael! Oh my gosh. He’s back!” Carrie let go of Patrick and started eagerly up the path to the cabin.

“Wait!” Patrick scrambled to catch up, dread sickening his already sour stomach. He didn’t see Mikey, but a different broad-shouldered figure had emerged onto the back patio. Patrick took out his flashlight and turned it on.

It was Jason. The dread in Patrick’s stomach slackened. “Patrick?” Jason said. “Oh thank God, you found Carrie.”

Jason rushed forward and enveloped Carrie in a hug. She stiffened briefly in his arms before leaning into him and sniffling into his neck. Poor Carrie had probably always dreamed of Jason holding her this way, but never in circumstances like these. Patrick knew how conflicted she must feel.

Jason stroked her hair, murmuring words of comfort, and then let her go and held his arms out to Patrick. “Since I was too busy putting out the fire to hug you earlier. I’m so glad you’re safe. You saw what happened to Freddy?”

Patrick nodded and slumped into Jason’s embrace, a rush of relief washing over him. Jason’s hair smelled like smoke, but otherwise he seemed unharmed. His body was warm and solid, and after the overwhelming terrors Patrick had experienced all night, the reality of Jason’s presence grounded him.

He could’ve stayed in the hug forever, but their current situation intruded as a breeze sent a chill across his damp skin. “Oh shit,” Patrick said, jumping away. His khakis were soaked to the thighs, and some of the blood on Carrie’s tank top had transferred to his when he’d put his arms around her. “I’m getting you wet.”

“I don’t care. I’m just thankful you’re both okay,” Jason said.

Jason had said both, but he was looking only at Patrick. A lump formed in Patrick’s throat. “I’m glad you’re okay, too.”

Carrie wrapped her arms around her blood-stained middle. “Jason, I’m so sorry. It’s Tiffany. I—I couldn’t help her.”

Jason nodded and pulled her into another hug, his own eyes brimming with tears. “I know,” he said, his voice cracking in a way that broke Patrick’s heart. “Mikey told me what happened.”

A slow prickle crept across the back of Patrick’s neck. Mikey had told Jason how Tiffany had died.

“Where is he?” Carrie asked, glancing up from Jason’s chest and wiping the tears off her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I thought I heard him calling my name.”

Jason glanced over his shoulder. “He was right behind me.”

The prickle ripened into a shiver. “Carrie,” Patrick said. “What’s your ex-boyfriend’s last name?”

“You mean Daniel?” The furrow in her brow straightened as understanding hit her. She untangled herself from Jason’s arms. “Do you think he’s trying to kill us? I thought it was Russ.”

“I’m not sure. What’s his last name?”

“I don’t see how that’s important—”

“What’s his last name?”

Carrie blinked. “Williams.”

Patrick drew in a sharp breath. The man who’d been found murdered in Fairvale. Hacked to death with a cleaver. It could still be a different Daniel Williams, but—

“Age twenty-two?”

She looked confused. “Yes.”

“And he lives in Fairvale?”

“Yes, he’s got a summer internship at an ad agency there. What’s this all about?”