“You have no idea?”
Logan cleared her throat. “I was at the Chokecherry earlier today and John threatened me…”
“Gotcha.”
Logan swallowed again. Between the scratches on Paris’s arms, there were red half-moons like fingernail indents. His thousand-mile stare was fixed on her now, and she understood. The truth was a slow thing, but the fog was burning away second by second. Logan met Paris’s eyes and there was nothing there. He smiled, but there was nothing, nothing, nothing.
She’d seen a face like that before in her dreams. She’d seen it behind Brandon’s spectacles, piercing and cold and empty. She could taste her heartbeat.
“You’re sure this is the way to the hospital?” Logan asked. “It seems pretty dark for the highway.”
“Yep. Almost there.”
This was not the way to the hospital. Logan had driven on this road before. She’d seen these trees at night. She’d seen the black hills across the lake, the blips of campfire, the scratches of road on the distant shore. This was the way around the lake.
Paris was taking her to the cabin.
It was him.
He was the killer.
Paris leaned back in his seat. “You’ve been through a lot since you got to Snakebite. Can’t be easy coming here, where things are so different from the big city. We’ve got good hearts, but we keep things traditional. Maybe that’s a bad thing—I don’t know—but it must be hard on you.”
Logan could only stare at his hands. They looked strong enough to choke the life out of her like they’d done to all the others. Maybe that was why he was taking her to the cabin: to kill her. She kept her arms at her sides to hide her shaking. She was going to throw up.
“You probably think I’m backward, or that I hate gays. I’m not like that, Logan. I never had a problem with your dads. It hurt me to see all that hate just as much as it hurt them. Alejo and me were always good friends, and I never had a problem with Brandon. The two of them always kept to themselves. To see people accusing them of crimes we both know they didn’t commit … it’s a shame. I really wanted to keep your family out of this.” Paris sighed. “But I think you’ve figured out by now that the three of you are always gonna be connected to all this.”
“What do you mean?” Logan asked, voice shaking.
Paris arched a brow. “You still cold? You’re shaking.”
“A little.”
Paris reached into his passenger seat and handed her a towel. Logan wrung out her hair and covered her face with the towel. She counted her breaths to keep from panicking. There had to be a way out of this car, off of this road, back to safety. She patted her back pocket for her phone, but it was gone.
Paris gave a low hmm and looked at her in the rearview mirror. Suddenly, his expression changed and he shook his head. “Looking for your phone? I’ve got it up here.”
“Can I have it back?”
“No, I don’t think so.” He let out a disappointed sigh. “Wouldn’t matter much. There’s no service out here.”
Logan blinked. Her heart climbed up her throat. Somewhere, miles away, she hoped Ashley was looking for her. She hoped someone was looking for her. There had to be a way to tell them where she was. Who she was with. What he’d done.
“Where are we actually going?” Logan asked.
“You know where we’re going,” Paris said. “You kids have been out here a dozen times already.”
“The cabin, right?”
“I am sorry,” Paris said. “I would’ve kept you out of it if I could.”