The traitors, p.13
The Traitors, page 13
“Okay, fine.”
I headed for the door with Rad by my side, not looking back once at my mother. It was my turn to leave her behind.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Penelope
“And then there were three,” I said, tapping my nails boredly on the arm of the sofa.
“There’s only two of us here,” Bonnie snapped, turning from her perch at the window to give me a look.
Surprised she heard me with all of her obsessive, mother-hen gawking, I said, “You forgot about the perv. Cornelius never left. He’s too big, loud, and gawky to go anywhere quietly. No, he’s still in here somewhere. Probably hiding in the shadows, watching us from the corner with his pants around his ankles and his dick in his hand.”
“You’re a vile woman,” Bonnie said, not bothering to look at me this time.
“Indeed,” I sighed. There once was a time when my dry humor was a hit at parties. My dark jokes used to go over well, at least in the days of my youth, or more precisely, in the days of my success. But eventually people figured out that I’m like this all the time. Cynical, sarcastic, cold. Unpleasant to work with, as my last editor said in an email. Doesn’t work well with others, wrote the one before her.
I never said I was nice.
“Why are you just standing there? It’s dark out. Can you even see Staci?”
“No, and I’m worried. We don’t know who brought us here, exactly, and she could be in danger. I never should have let her go. Maybe I should go out there too…” Bonnie said, her expression softening as she looked at me.
I barked a laugh, and Bonnie flinched.
“It’s a little too late to play mommy dearest, isn’t it? What are you going to do—walk around like a helicopter parent, following a twenty-five-year-old around? You missed the boat on that one, lady. I hate to be the one to tell you…”
“Fuck you,” Bonnie said, turning away.
“Tell me how you really feel, Bonnie. At least you’re telling the truth for once in your life. No tricks or psychic gimmicks up your sleeve, just angry words this time,” I said.
But she didn’t take the bait this time or catch my reference to her shady past.
“I’m going to the kitchen to look for snacks,” I said, excusing myself.
I stood, knees cracking, and made my way to the kitchen. As I cut through the dining room, cleared of our earlier meal and discussion, I couldn’t help noticing how dark and gloomy the house had become. Now that it was nighttime, there was no natural light. Only sickly yellow bulbs in the corners, casting the corpse-like room with shadows. The kitchen wasn’t much better, just a soft light over the ancient stove top—that didn’t even look functioning—and a single fluorescent illuminating the hallway off the kitchen.
I wasn’t really looking for snacks.
I entered the back hallway and slipped inside the library. If Cornelius really did make a guess at the impostor, there should be evidence of it in here.
“Bingo,” I said, counting the tiny slips of paper and envelopes. Only one was missing.
I opened the drawer under the desk and there it was, a sealed envelope with Cornelius’s name scribbled on it.
Tempted to tear it open and read his guess, I took the envelope out and held it up, trying to read through the stationery. But there wasn’t enough to see through it.
I don’t care about the money anyway, and knowing Cornelius, he impulsively ran in here and guessed Staci’s name right after her confession upstairs.
I wasn’t buying Staci’s story for a minute. I knew that Jan was real; I’d seen her on their stupid detective wannabe channel. But Staci was hiding something more; I could feel it. I knew more about Staci than I’d like to … her background, adopted parents who tried to raise her, that she was riddled with mental health issues and “mommy issues”. I rolled my eyes, thinking of Bonnie.
Returning the envelope to the drawer, I turned to leave but then I saw a small, folded piece of paper on the floor by the bookshelf, nearly concealed in the shadowy corner.
I scooped it up. Right away, I knew it belonged to Cornelius—a frantic attempt at a blueprint (who else but a failed architect would draw the castle like this?). He’d messily marked the rooms on the first and second floors, but his main point of interest was the turret; he’d circled it, retracing it several times. And there was a big X written on the small block that marked Staci’s room.
“Damn. What did he find?” My curiosity was piqued.
I put the drawing in my pocket and quietly headed for the twisted staircase. I was only a few steps from Staci’s door, when I heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs.
“Why are you going in my daughter’s room?” Bonnie said, eyes flickering with anger as she came down the hall.
I made a whirring motion over my head. “Like I said, helicopter parent. Too late for that, my dear.”
“Shut up,” Bonnie said, stopping right next to me.
“Apparently our Peeping Tom was interested in something in Staci’s room. I’m going to check it. Come with me if you must,” I challenged.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Bonnie
“I know exactly what he was looking for,” I said. The makeshift map was in my hand; I clenched my jaw, heartbeat thumping in my ears. “The real question is: why?”
Penelope and I were standing in my daughter’s assigned room, looking for whatever “X marks the spot” point that Cornelius had been seeking.
“Care to enlighten me then?” Penelope asked. She looked bored already, nudging my daughter’s sleeping bags with her studded Louboutin flat.
“Not really,” I muttered, running my hands over the stones until I found what was clearly veneer. It made sense—this area corresponded to the turret on the exterior wall of the castle. But why was Cornelius trying to get inside when our instructions clearly stated that it was sealed off, and against the rules to enter?
“It’s the turret,” I said, placing both hands on the veneer. A shiver ran through me, starting with the tips of my fingers and forging a path all the way down to my toes. I tried to recall my gran’s words about the rounded architecture and protection of the turret’s design, and I thought about the strange witches’ marks on the wall. Despite my gran’s stories, there was nothing good or protected about this turret. I could sense something dark and awful waiting on the other side.
“Just know that if we go inside, you’ll probably be forfeiting your winnings. The instructions clearly stated that it was sealed off and we are supposed to follow the rules. I never cared much for rules myself and I don’t need the money, but you … I’m guessing you need it bad…” Penelope said. She’d moved closer now, hands on her hips as she stared at the wall in defiance.
“Shut up and go get something we can use to bust through this false wall with,” I said.
Expecting her to refuse, I was pleasantly surprised when Penelope simply nodded and left the room. While she was gone, I inspected Staci’s bag. The zipper was undone, pieces of clothing bulging from the top of it.
Carefully, I bent down and dug my hand inside, reaching under the clothes. Like me, my daughter had a habit of burying things she wanted to hide.
I removed several papers—a set of instructions for operating a hidden camera, and some sort of listening device. So, Staci broke the rules as well. She’s trying to record this process, probably for her channel, even though she’s not supposed to. I felt a small glimmer of pride.
Underneath the instructions, I also found Staci’s personal letter. I remembered what she’d said earlier, about hers containing clues. But I quickly learned that was a lie.
The Beechwood killer is here.
I gasped, then yelped, as Penelope fluttered back into the room. Promptly, I stuffed the papers back into my daughter’s bag.
“Snooping through your daughter’s stuff to make up for lost time?” Penelope snarked.
I was going to tell her to go fuck herself. But then I saw the hammer in her hand.
“Found this in the kitchen downstairs. There’s candles and matches and a few screwdrivers too, in case we need them,” Penelope said.
I waited for something snarky to follow, but nothing did.
“I’ll do it.” I reached for the hammer in her hand.
“I might be old but I’m strong,” Penelope said, pulling back with the tool. I watched, adrenaline buzzing, as she went straight to the veneer wall and swung the hammer with more gusto than I would have thought possible at her age.
Moments later, she’d created a hole, and we were both pulling away at the fake stone siding to get inside.
“Stop!” I stepped back from the wall. “There’s someone in there.”
“Is it the perv? Let’s peep on him, for a change,” Penelope laughed, stepping up to the opening and sticking her whole head inside it.
She released a blood-curdling scream.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Rad
“It’s way too quiet out here,” Staci said, sweeping the flashlight over the trees.
We were looking for Lolly Andrews along the tree line of the forest. But she was nowhere to be found…
There was a hush in the air, as though we were the only creatures—forest animals included—around for miles and miles…
And yet. There was an uneasy feeling growing inside me, as though we were being watched. There were no cameras inside the castle, at least none that could be seen with the naked eye. As far as I could tell, there were no cameras or listening devices outside; even those that were strategically placed in the trees or crumbling bird baths, would be spotted if you looked hard enough…
“Agreed. It’s quiet,” I said, my own voice sounding strange and foreign in my ears. There was only one flashlight, so I’d given mine to Staci. If something happened and we got separated, she needed it more than me.
Despite our searching so far, we’d also found no signs of Lolly. No signs of anyone, in fact.
“Do you think the guards are taking a break?” Staci asked, stepping through a gap between two trees and walking straight ahead into the yawning mouth of the forest.
“I don’t know.”
When we’d approached the gate earlier, we found no trace of the guards. Plus, we were still locked inside.
My eyes traveled side to side over the forest, looking for movement … shadows. But still, there was nothing.
That growing pit of fear was rising, spreading from my stomach to the rest of me. The property extended for nearly a mile eastward, and less than three-quarters of a mile away was the location where I’d recklessly shot Bobby Reeks. I didn’t want to go back there; I needed to avoid that direction for my own sanity … but how would we get out of here if the guards didn’t return?
Surely, there was a gap somewhere … or I’d just have to take the risk and try to climb over and grapple with the electric fencing…
Staci was still chattering; she seemed nervous, but more in control than I was feeling. The locked gates, the missing guards, everything we’d seen so far…
“Wait. Staci, I must warn you…”
Staci stopped in her tracks and turned toward me, shining the light right in my face.
“I don’t know if it’s safe to be out here. That’s why I came with you. I don’t think we should look for Lolly right now. I think we should go check in with Miss Penner. She might have more information for us, or she can tell us if she’s spotted Lolly and when the guards are scheduled to return.”
The guesthouse was back in the direction from which we’d come, and there were soft yellow lights blooming from inside the small building, beckoning us to come back from the shadowy tree line, to somewhere safer and better lit…
“What are you afraid of?” Staci moved closer to me, too close. She fingered the necklace at her throat.
“Look. I found some drawings in Lolly’s room. They were … disturbing to say the very least.”
“So?” Staci inched in even closer, and I took a wide step back.
“So, they were dated from back then … before the murders. And there was an ax in one of the drawings. I don’t think she was involved back then, I really don’t … but anything is possible, yeah?”
Staci leaned her head side to side, considering. She looked ghoulish in the glow of the flashlight, and I could see a flash of worry in her eyes.
“The murderer is almost always male. You must know that, Rad.”
“I do. But the killer was never found … and I just don’t want to take any chances out here. I feel responsible for you, so I wanted to tell you about what I’d found.”
“Thank you for telling me,” Staci said. She hesitated, chewed her lip.
“What?” I pressed.
“I should share this with you, too. My letter didn’t contain any random clue. It said that the Beechwood killer was here, here at the castle with us…”
“Jesus.” I breathed in through my nose and out through my mouth. “Maybe it’s just someone fucking with us … making a game out of our fears. Just because we didn’t see any cameras doesn’t mean there aren’t any.” But I was talking to the wind, and mostly trying to convince myself. My mind flashed back to Lolly’s drawing, the one with the girl and the ax. Could they possibly mean something, that she was involved back then? Images of those kids’ faces, slaughtered and left for dead, flashed like camera bulbs in my mind. And Bobby Reeks … his face, too. Although I was responsible for that death…
What was the likelihood of a young girl drawing gruesome pics with an ax, and then seeing her friends get murdered with one…? That was the part that was bothering me. I’d never suspected her involvement back then, but now…
“Let’s go find Penner,” Staci said, touching my elbow.
As we walked, Staci kept quiet and fell in step beside me. I stopped when we got close to the guesthouse. It was a small brick building with a couple of windows and a single entrance, and supposedly where our hired hostess was staying for the night. But why didn’t she turn up on time to bring libations like she was supposed to? Had something happened to Lolly and that’s what was causing our hostess to run late?
“It must be hard for you, being here,” Staci said, her words like whispers in the dark.
“It is,” I admitted, surprising myself as I stared ahead at the guesthouse. I saw two versions of it—the guesthouse, how it looked back then … and how it looked today. Mostly, it looked the same. Just older and more rundown.
“Didn’t they find one of the bodies inside there? I wonder if our lovely host knows about that. She probably thinks it’s better to be out here, instead of inside with us,” Staci tsked.
“Yes. One of the boys’ bodies was found inside. I’m the one who found it.” Flashes of Thomas Tarton’s wide open stare, his body splayed open for all to see. Those deep red gashes on his chest and arms…
I shuddered and blinked back the memories. All that trauma … it didn’t feel like it really affected me back then, but nowadays, it came roiling back when I least expected it.
“Where were the others found?” Staci said, again moving in too close to stand next to me, as though she wanted to catch every word.
I suspected that she already knew these answers, being that she ran a YouTube channel that discussed true crimes just like this one.
“Monica Collins was found near the mouth of the tunnel, and Mike Wilcox was found inside the turret,” I told her.
Staci looked at me, assessing me, for several too-long seconds.
“I’ll go up and knock. You can stay here,” she offered.
“No. I got it,” I huffed, marching up to the door and banging on the side with my fist.
When no one came, I knocked again, harder this time. Finally, Staci came over, stood on her tiptoes, and tried to peek through the window to get a look inside.
“See anything?”
“Wait.” Staci darted over to the other window, cupping her hands around her face and pressing it up to the glass.
“Holy fuck. She’s lying on the floor in there, Rad. I think Mary Beth might be dead…”
Chapter Thirty
~ELEVEN O’CLOCK~
Staci
Rad’s face was sheet-white and sweating as he sprung into action, running around the outside of the guest building, looking for intruders.
Finally, he joined me back inside the guesthouse where I stood next to Mary Beth’s crumpled form on the floor. Her eyes were wide, unseeing—but it looked as though she’d had the scare of her life.
“Her neck, it’s cut so deeply…” I leaned forward to look, but my stomach twisted in on itself. I’d looked at crime scene photos and seen more gruesome things than I’d like to over the years, due to my true crime obsession. But seeing a corpse in real life was something else entirely.
“Step back from there. This is a crime scene,” Rad warned me, his voice stern and so much louder than usual.
“Do you think this is some sort of twisted game? Like a murder mystery, and this isn’t real … or something?” I said, hopefully. But deep down, I knew that wasn’t the case.
“I’ve seen enough dead bodies to know when one is real,” Rad said, sharply. He stopped, staring down at Mary Beth as though he were seeing someone else in her place.
“Maybe she brought a cell phone with her. Let’s search for it,” I suggested, looking around the tiny one-room guesthouse.
Unlike our assigned rooms, Mary Beth’s contained a cot and comforter.. There was a compact table with a few bags of sealed snacks and toiletries inside it. In the corner, there was also a refrigerator, probably to house our libations she was supposed to bring over at ten.
“You see a purse anywhere?” I said, carefully stepping around Mary Beth’s body and moving closer to Rad. Earlier, I’d been trying to get close enough to record our conversation for my viewers, but now, this all felt otherworldly … and thoughts of my own plans subsided.
