“Hey, I’ll go grab us some blankets and beers from the house. Sound good?”
“Sounds great.” I fall back onto my elbows, watching him plod through the sand toward the stairs. “Hey, can you bring my phone down? I left it charging in the kitchen.”
“Yup.”
After a few minutes, I let myself melt back completely onto the sand, not caring if it gets in my hair or into my clothing. It’s cooled down from the day’s sunshine and from here, I can look up at the gigantic sky above. Me and my problems are miniscule compared to it— There’s a metallic click behind me.
It’s a gun being cocked.
My muscles tense up, my mouth going dry, but I don’t move. I’m frozen.
“You’re pretty relaxed for someone who goes around ruining lives.”
I know that voice, but it’s not overly familiar. Belonging to a young man.
Where have I heard it before?
Footsteps approach, then I’m kicked in the ribs. Not hard, but forceful enough to make me cry out. Hand pressing to the throbbing spot, I sit up and scramble backward awkwardly on my elbows, heels shoving at the sifting sand.
The man comes into view.
The mayor’s assistant. Kyle?
No. Kurt.
Kurt is pointing a gun at me—and of course this is the moment everything clicks into place. Very convenient.
The assistant just barely tops five feet. Everything has happened so fast since this afternoon, I haven’t stopped to review all of the evidence and reconcile it with the mayor’s guilt. But of course Kurt was involved. He’s always at her side, ready to serve. He would have spied on Oscar for her, easily fitting into that area behind the bedroom wall.
“Piecing it all together? Took you long enough. Maybe you and your boyfriend aren’t as smart as you think you are.”
Myles.
He’s going to flip out.
For some reason, that’s really comforting.
Or it will be, if I don’t die.
He’s also going to be so hard on himself when he realizes this oversight. Who could have seen it coming, though? Rhonda didn’t implicate Kurt at the scene. She only denied her own guilt.
Wake up. Think.
Hostages usually survive by keeping their captor talking. Personalizing themselves. I’m not technically a hostage—yet?—but the same logic should still apply, right? Although, if I keep Kurt talking and Jude comes back, my brother will be in danger, too.
No, I can’t have that.
My pulse is almost deafening in my temples, but I force a deep breath.
“Did she know?”
“Who?”
“Rhonda. The mayor. Did she know you were spying on Oscar?”
“No,” he spits, as if I’m an idiot for asking. “Do you think I wanted to watch a live feed of that sad sack while he binged Bake Off all day? I didn’t. Although it was better than keeping tabs on him from the closet.” He shivers. “Oscar Stanley. What an idiot. Did he really think Rhonda was actually going to pass any laws to restrict him from renting? She was telling people what they wanted to hear to secure reelection. That’s what we do. We stay in office at all costs. And it’s my job to make sure the mayor doesn’t have to worry about the details. That’s what makes me the best. After one more term as mayor of this middle-class hell hole, she was going to run for state senate and I would have been right there, indispensable. No one overlooking me, like I’m nothing but an inconsequential flea.”
“You’re not inconsequential.”
“Don’t pander to me.” He jabs the air with the muzzle of the gun. “The cops would have pursued that meathead father who kicked Oscar’s ass. He probably would have been found innocent. But by then, everyone would have forgotten about the murder of a man no one knew. The Barnstable police wouldn’t have been motivated to dig and ruin a good thing with Rhonda. But you had to poke. And prod. And you didn’t take my warnings, did you?”
Slowly, I inch sideways, hoping he’ll turn in the same clockwise motion so his back will be to the stairwell. “You clocked me with the book. You threw the buoy.”
His finger moves on the trigger. “Should have just shot you and gotten it over with.”
“You’re going to get caught.”
“Oh, I know I’m going to be caught. The cops are already bringing me in for questioning. Rhonda is putting it all together, I’m sure. And will she appreciate what I did for her? To keep her double life out of the press? No. I’m sure she’ll act horrified on the evening news. But if she found out what I did and I never got caught? She wouldn’t have said shit. Because that’s politics.”