“Stanley, we can’t do that. The garage might flood. It already has a few inches of standing water. If there’s a big storm surge, and there’s almost certain to be one, he could drown. Those storage units are like prison cells. No way we’re doing that.”

  “Do you have a better idea, Jake?” Stanley asks.

  The wind blows against the building with more strength. The hurricane is probably about to make landfall. We have no time to waste.

  Tyler’s explanation sounds as flimsy as the building we’re standing in. If there’s any chance he’s guilty, we need to keep him away from everyone. And there’s one easy way to do that.

  “We have the passkey,” I say. “That means we can get into any of the apartments. Since Dallas’ place is a crime scene, let’s put him in Alaina’s apartment. He’ll be as safe as the rest of us on the second floor.”

  “How are you going to keep him in there?” Stanley asks.

  “I’m betting you learned how to tie a knot before they shipped you off to Vietnam.”

  “I see your thinking.”

  “This is bullshit,” Tyler says. “I’m leaving. You can’t do this to me—”

  Stanley takes a step closer to Tyler, the gun still extended. “I can. And I will. We’re giving you a chance to wait this out. You can do that, or I can shoot you. It’s your choice.”

  I think I can see every muscle in Tyler’s body tense. He clenches and unclenches his hands. It’s easy to picture him lunging forward, trying to overpower Stanley—who is older and smaller—and wrestle the gun away from him.

  Tyler’s gaze moves from Stanley to Ethan and then lands on me. He must see the long odds against him. Stanley may be older and weaker than him, but he can’t say the same about me. And there are three of us and only one of him. Not to mention we’re the ones with a gun.

  Tyler’s body loses some of its steel.

  “You’re all nuts,” he says.

  “We might be,” I say. “Stanley will have the gun trained on your back the whole time.”

  Tyler doesn’t respond. He knows he’s beat.

  I motion to Stanley. “You go first. I want you right behind him. And don’t take your eyes off him.” I glance back at Ethan, who seems rejuvenated. “Lock the door and go straight to Lloyd’s. Tell everyone what’s going on. Stanley and I will be there soon.” I tell him the special knock.

  “Got it.”

  “Okay, Tyler,” I say. “Let’s go.”

  Forty-Two

  It’s not easy making the trip.

  Down five flights of soaking wet stairs.

  With three people so close we might as well be handcuffed.

  In the middle of a hurricane.

  Tyler goes first, his hands still up. Stanley walks behind, with the gun at Tyler’s back. Then me. Ethan and Isaac head down the north staircase.

  It’s rainier and windier, and at any moment, I expect Tyler to make a break for it or Stanley to trip and fall.

  But neither happens.

  Tyler seems to have accepted his fate.

  I’m starting to see Stanley in a new light. He moves with a lithe grace down the stairs, almost like a predatory jungle cat. He doesn’t stumble or slip, never seems to lose focus. It’s easy to picture him serving in combat as a much younger man—all these years later, those long-dormant instincts haven’t left him.

  When we reach Alaina’s door, Stanley keeps the gun pointed at Tyler while I work the passkey into the lock.

  “I figured you were smarter than this, Jake,” Tyler says. “Why don’t you tell this war hawk to back off?”

  “This is the only way,” I say. “Everybody will be safe this way. You included.”

  “You’re all going to regret this nonsense.”

  “Shut the hell up,” Stanley says, poking the gun into Tyler’s back. Hard.

  I step inside, shining my flashlight around the space. I’ve never been inside Alaina’s apartment before. I almost expect to see her waiting for us. Against all logic to the contrary, my hopes rise.

  Her apartment smells like spoiled food. I can’t tell if it’s coming from the garbage can or the refrigerator. Alaina’s problems must have been even bigger than I realized. The furniture is sparse—just a single overstuffed chair and a card table with two folding chairs. There’s no art on the walls, no curtains. The counters are greasy and covered with clutter. A slab of cheese sits on a dirty plate. Likely the source of the smell. The kitchen faucet drips slowly into the sink.

  “Go on,” I say to Tyler, pointing with my flashlight. “Sit in that kitchen chair over there.”

  Tyler, thrown by my harsh tone, gives me a look but doesn’t say anything. He gives me the side-eye as he silently moves into the apartment.

  “Watch him, Stanley. I’ll find something to tie him with.”

  “Rope would be best.”

  “Do you think someone like Alaina has a bunch of rope sitting around in her apartment? She barely has furniture.”

  “Electrical cords, then. Clothes we can tear into strips. Anything.”

  I find an extension cord in the living room, unplug it, and give it to Stanley. Then I go into Alaina’s bedroom. It feels like a violation to be here, to be intruding in someone’s most private space. Especially that of a young woman.

  But it reinforces the feeling that she’s gone. I taste disappointment in my mouth, bitter as rotten fruit, when I understand Alaina’s really not here.

  Alaina’s bedroom is furnished with an unmade twin mattress and box spring resting directly on the floor. Her closet hangs open. There are just a few clothes on hangers. A plastic milk crate serves as a bedside table with a single framed photo on top. I shine the light on the image—a young Alaina, maybe fifteen years old, with an older woman who must be her grandmother.

  It’s too hard to think about that woman learning the news of Alaina’s death, so I whip the light around the room. I see no other cords—and certainly no ropes—but there’s a worn hoodie, a Tampa Bay Buccaneers logo on the front, sitting on the end of the bed. There’s a drawstring hanging from the hood.

  Stanley has wasted little time. He already has electrical cord running around Tyler’s wrists and down to his feet, trussing him like a steer. Tyler grimaces and tries to squirm, but he can’t move much.

  “Looks like you have this under control,” I say.

  “Give me the drawstring.” I do what he says, and Stanley goes on. “We’ll have to gag him to keep him quiet.”

  “No way we’re doing that,” I say.

  Tyler looks relieved. Stanley doesn’t argue. He tucks the gun into his pants and continues his work, using the drawstring to further bind Tyler’s hands and feet to the wooden slats of the chair.

  Stanley looks to be enjoying his work. I question our decision to bring Tyler here. We could have just as easily tied him up in Lloyd’s apartment.

  But if he really is dangerous…

  Maybe this is best for everyone.

  Stanley tugs on all the bindings and, satisfied that Tyler can’t move, straightens up. He pulls the gun out of his pants, even though there’s no need anymore. Stanley appears to just like the feel of the weapon in his hand.

  “You sure you don’t want to gag him, Jake?”

  “Who’s going to hear him over the storm?”

  “I guess so.” Stanley can’t conceal his disappointment.

  “Are you really just going to leave me here? For hours? Through a hurricane?”

  “We’ll check on you.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “We will,” I say. “Just…just sit tight for now.”

  “I don’t have much fucking choice.” The professionalism Tyler demonstrated before is gone now, and I can’t say that I blame him.

  Stanley walks backward to the door, the gun lowered toward Tyler.

  “Stanley,” I say, “can you put that away?”

  When we reach the door, he does, sliding it back into his pants. Before we go out, I lean close to Stanley and speak in a low voice so Tyler can’t hear me.

  “Does he have to be tied so tight?”

  “Do you want him getting loose and hurting someone else? This is insurance.”

  Again I try to think of another way but come up empty. I’m willing to trade Tyler’s discomfort for the safety and security of everyone else.

  “Okay,” I say. “But I’m coming back to check on him. We might have to loosen those ties if he’s in pain.”

  “Yeah, sure.” Stanley doesn’t sound convincing. He sounds like a guy telling me what I want to hear.

  “Are you ready to brave the elements?”

  “You bet.”

  I take a quick look back at Tyler and throw the door open.

  Forty-Three

  10:44 p.m.

  Stanley and I move down the walkway toward Lloyd’s apartment.

  I place my hand on Stanley’s arm, stopping him three doors from Lloyd’s place. The wind rattles the palm fronds with such force they sound like a stadium full of clapping hands. When one gets loose, it flies through the air and smacks the stucco on the outside of the building.

  “Do you really think he killed Dallas?”

  “That key is a pretty damning piece of evidence.”

  “Sure, but—”

  “Do you believe that cockamamie story about finding it on the ground? We all know it was on Dallas’ body.”

  “It always was.”

  “Jake, I learned something in the service. Sometimes you have to make tough decisions for the greater good. And sometimes it hurts to make them. This is one of those situations. But we’re doing the best with what we have.”

  “Right.” I nod, trying to talk myself into agreeing with him. “Right. We’ll let the cops sort it all out when this is over.”

  “Exactly.” Stanley claps me on the shoulder. “Now let’s get the hell out of this mess and inside, where it’s dry.”

  We deliver the coded knock to Lloyd’s door. When Nina opens it, Mackenzie rushes across the room and throws her arms around me.

  Jordan is less dramatic but not far behind. “Thank God you’re back.” She puts her hand in mine when she reaches me.

  Everyone looks incredibly relieved to see us, especially Ethan.

  “Did you take care of him?” Ethan asks. “You guys have been gone a long time.”

  “He’s secure,” I say. “And safe. In Alaina’s apartment.”

  “Oh…okay, that’s good. I guess.”

  “You guess?” I ask. “What did you want us to do to him?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just—he’s dangerous.”

  “His hands and feet are tied to each other, Ethan. And he’s tied to a chair. I don’t see how he could get out of that mess unless he’s Houdini. That’s really all we can do.”

  Everyone—and I mean everyone—starts throwing questions at us. They all want to know what happened. What we were doing and why it took so long. I feel like a politician at a press conference.

  “Didn’t you tell them?” I ask Ethan.

  “I couldn’t do it. I was afraid it would be too triggering.”

  “To tell them the truth?”

  “The truth is always the hardest.”

  I have to force myself not to roll my eyes. “Okay, I’ll tell you all what happened. Just let me get it out.”

  I give them a quick rundown. Going up to Ethan’s place and finding Isaac on the way. Learning Ethan had been attacked—presumably by Tyler. And how when Tyler showed up in Ethan’s apartment, we used the gun to control him and found Dallas’ passkey in his pocket.

  When I share this bit of news, everyone in the room except Ethan and Stanley gasps. If we were in a court of law, I would have just won over the jury. No doubt about it. I finish by telling them how we tied up Tyler in Alaina’s apartment.

  “What happened when Tyler left here?” I ask. “Why did he come looking for us?”

  Lloyd speaks up right away. “He said the two of you had been gone awhile, and he was worried something happened to you. He insisted that since he was a trained security guard, he needed to be the one to check.”

  “We told him to wait,” Nina says. “We told him you and Stanley can take care of yourselves, but he was determined. I mean, he was really determined to get out of here. I offered to go, but he said no.”

  “It’s true, Dad. He was, like, low-key rabid to get out the door. Like he was late to catch a plane or something.”

  Stanley and I exchange a look, and Stanley says, “Or a boat.” We tell them about Tyler’s dinghy.

  “He was trying to get away,” Kiara says. “That’s why he was so eager to get out of the apartment.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Sawyer says from his perch on the dining room chair. “You can’t go anywhere right now in a boat. It’s a thousand feet to the mainland, but it might as well be five hundred miles in this weather.”

  “He insisted it would be possible when the eye of the storm passes over the island.”

  “The eye?” Jordan says. “Really? How could he possibly know how long that would last?”

  “I don’t know what Tyler was up to, but he didn’t exactly run away. He came upstairs to Ethan’s apartment. Not to mention he told us about the boat, so it’s not like he was planning some secret getaway.”

  Jordan puts a hand on my arm. “Something happened while you were gone.”

  “What?”

  “About ten minutes after you left, someone started pounding on the door.”

  “Nina wanted to let them in,” Lloyd says with a shake of the head.

  “In my defense, I thought it was Jake or Stanley,” Nina says. “I thought they were in trouble.”

  “But they didn’t give the secret knock,” Jordan says.

  “I was worried you might have forgotten,” Nina says.

  “Jordan is the one who stood firm on that,” Lloyd says. “She held the line on opening the door. She said you would never forget something like that.”

  “They pounded on the door for a long time. Maybe ten minutes. I swear I thought they were never going to go away. I went right up to the door and asked them to identify themselves.”

  “Mom was totally badass, Dad. She didn’t even hesitate to go up to that door.”

  “I knew it was locked.”

  “They could have kicked it in,” Nina says. “Even with the chain up, someone can bust a door down.” She looks at all of us. “My ex-husband did that once. That’s how I know.”

  Kiara puts her arms around Nina and pulls her close.

  “Whoever was out there finally ended up leaving,” Jordan says. “And as far as we know, they never came back. That’s why we were so relieved when you all showed up.”

  “I’m so glad you two remembered to tell me the secret knock. Otherwise, Isaac and I would never have gotten in.”

  “Did this person say anything when they were knocking?” I ask.

  Each person in the room turns to someone else, as if no one wants to answer. “There’s some debate about that,” Jordan finally says. “Some people thought they said something. And others don’t. The wind and rain are too loud to be sure what we’re hearing.”

  Stanley jumps in. “We didn’t see anyone but Tyler when we were out there.”

  The rainwater and sweat coating my body for hours are starting to dry, turning cold on my skin. I break out in goose bumps.

  “Was it Tyler trying to get back in?” Hazel asks.

  “Tyler knew the knock,” I say. “He was here when we came up with it.”

  “Plus, he had the passkey,” Stanley says.

  “And he was upstairs with us,” I say. “He couldn’t have been down here knocking and upstairs that fast. Could he? And why would he do that?”

  “What was he like when you saw him?” Lloyd asks.

  “He was completely calm,” I say. “Like he didn’t have a care in the world. Even when Stanley put the gun on him, he kept his shit together. Right, Stanley?”

  “Yes, but he was afraid. I’ve seen that look before. In other men’s eyes.”

  An uneasy tension settles over the room. We’re all wondering the same thing. Is someone in the building besides Tyler?

  “Well,” I say, “we’re all here now. That’s what matters. And Tyler is taken care of. So…let’s try not to worry too much.”

  Everyone nods. We’re all trying to convince ourselves we’ll make it through the night.

  I want to collapse to the floor. I want to allow my body to come down off the high alert it’s been on since…well, ever since I first drove over the causeway after work. “Let’s all just…take a breath.”

  I pull Jordan and Mackenzie into the kitchen. I’ve never been more relieved to be with them. I want to be alone with them, but I don’t want to ask to go into the bedroom again. I want to fold them up in my arms again.

  Mackenzie leans close to my ear, her hair brushing my face. “Dad,” she says, her voice so low I can barely hear it, “I need to tell you something. About that guy who came to the door. I need to tell you what he said.”

  Forty-Four

  “Do you want to talk in the other room?” I ask Mackenzie as Ethan sits next to Hazel on the couch.

  He places Isaac on Hazel’s lap, and her face lights up. “Oh, Isaac.” She rubs the cat behind the ears. “There’s my boy.”

  Mackenzie lets her eyes wander over everyone in the small apartment. “Yes, Dad,” she says, answering me. “We need privacy.”

  When I look at Jordan, she nods. She clearly knows what’s going on.

  While the three of us move toward the bedroom, Ethan tells Hazel all about the attack in his apartment. He spares no detail. Hazel continues to pet Isaac, but with her free hand she clasps Ethan’s hand, focusing on his face like he’s the only person in the world. I feel better knowing Hazel will have someone here to help her after I go home. Maybe she and Ethan will become close.

 

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