Sydney crept closer to the edge, searching for another place that could have served as a launching spot. She stopped in front of a patch of rock that sloped sharply downward. At the bottom was a tiny, flat, cave-like area. It would be the perfect vantage point to launch something toward the ocean. Except that it was barely large enough to hold a raccoon, let alone a killer.
Sydney groaned, frustrated. Every time she thought she was getting somewhere, a brand-new roadblock sprang up. It was like being trapped inside a never-ending maze. The wind picked up, howling through the rocks. It was time to get out of there.
She’d just started back down one of the bouldered paths when a strange pattering made her stop. Were those footsteps? She froze, her breath narrowing into soft, raspy pulls.
There they were again. They were definitely footsteps—but animal or human, she couldn’t tell. Where were they coming from? She looked frantically around, but the sound was echoing off the rocks, making it impossible to locate its origin.
She pressed her back against a rock, feeling quietly for the pepper spray in her purse. It was all she had to protect herself. Her eyes flickered toward the edge of the cliff, where rock met air. All it would take was one push backward.… She shuddered, imagining it. For a second there would be free fall, the wind a tunnel around her. Then, just like the explosive, she, too, would hit that plank.
The footsteps sharpened. There was no doubt: They were two feet, not four. A person—maybe the darer—was up here.
Instinct took over as Sydney crouched down. The sound echoed all around her, making it seem as if the person were everywhere at once. The ocean roared behind her, a warning. She had no choice. She had to move.
She took off down the path, keeping her head low. She could hear the intruder drawing closer. She hurried right, her heart in her throat. There were the footsteps again. The noise circled around her, dizzying. The edge of the cliff was just feet away, and her eyes went to the drop as she kept climbing down. One wrong step, and it would all be over.
Sydney broke into a run. When she finally reached her parking spot, she gasped in relief. She’d never been so happy to see her reject of a car before. She threw herself into the front seat and locked the doors. As she fumbled with her key, she could swear she caught a glimpse of a shadow, darting swiftly behind a rock. She jammed her key into the ignition, turning hard. But before she could slam on the gas, she saw it.
A delicate gold chain was draped over her steering wheel. A pendant swung from the bottom of it: four swirly gold letters. KYLA.
The air in the car seemed to thin as Sydney shoved the necklace into her bag. The darer really had been there: on the cliffs, in her car. Whoever it was had been watching her, trailing her. There was no need for a note; the necklace screamed the message loud and clear.
The darer had killed Kyla. And one by one, they would be next.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Wednesday, 12:00 PM
For a few blissful seconds, Tenley had forgotten. She headed straight for her table in the cafeteria as if everything were normal. But the faces around it were cold and hard. Jessie glared at her as she muttered something under her breath, making everyone laugh. Tenley looked beseechingly at Hunter, but he averted his eyes, guilt written across his face. Next to him, Marta did the same.
The cafeteria seemed to swirl around Tenley as she backed away. Her lunch bag slipped out of her grip, its contents scattering everywhere. Her cheeks flushed red as she crouched down to collect them.
“Need help?”
Tenley looked up sharply. Tim was standing over her, a wrinkle forming between his eyebrows. “Here.” He handed her her yogurt, which had slid several feet.
Tenley took it gratefully. Just seeing Tim made the thorns inside her retract a little. She’d barely talked to him since the video was shown at the assembly. He’d been reassuring when he saw her in the hall on Monday, but thanks to Lanson’s lawyer-story boot camp, she hadn’t even had time to call him that night. Then yesterday he’d texted to say he was skipping school for a “mental surf day.”
She shoved the yogurt into her lunch bag as she stood up. “You don’t know how happy I am that you’re here.” Nearby, the hot-food line erupted in whispers, multiple pairs of eyes flickering in her direction. She forced her focus on Tim. “Want some company for lunch?”
Tim fiddled with a loose string on his hemp necklace. “I’m not sure that’s the best idea right now.” He’d been looking over her head, at something in the distance, but he finally lowered his gaze. The guarded look in his eyes took her aback.
“I spent a lot of time thinking yesterday, Tenley. I like you. I have since that night you first tripped over my surfboard. But these games you and your friends play…” He shook his head, looking bewildered. “They’re really messed up. First you’re playing with fireworks out on the water, and Caitlin ends up dead. And now you’re drugging your friend’s water bottle for fun?”
“It wasn’t for fun!” The words slipped out before Tenley could stop them. She recoiled, regretting them instantly.
Tim raised his eyebrows. “Then what was it for?”
“I…” she began. But every sentence led to the same unspeakable conclusion. “It was a mistake,” she finished weakly.
“That’s just not enough of a reason for me.” Tim pulled harder at his necklace. It snapped off, coming away in his hand. He closed his fingers around it, his expression hardening into resolution. “I need some time to sort out my head.” In the dim roar of the cafeteria, his voice was quiet. But there was no mistaking his words.
“Time,” Tenley repeated dully. First Caitlin, then her other friends, and now Tim. The darer was snipping away at her life, person by person. Soon only tattered scraps would be left. Her anger returned hard and fast. This wasn’t supposed to be her life. “I have to go,” she mumbled. She didn’t look at Tim as she tore out of the cafeteria.
She headed straight to the computer lab. Last night she’d spent hours rereading the dream journal she’d taken from Caitlin’s bedroom. Before Caitlin died, she’d been recording in that journal her dreams about her kidnapping. It was where she described in detail the room where she’d been held: a basement with red walls and red carpet and red curtains. It was also where Tenley had learned that Caitlin had finally seen her kidnapper’s face in a dream: not Jack Hudson at all, but a woman.
Now that Tenley had proof that the darer—this mystery woman—had set Jack Hudson up, she was desperate to find another clue about the real kidnapper. But no matter how many rereads she did, all she took away from Cait’s journal were the same basic facts. The kidnapper was a woman with a red basement, who owned an antique toy circus train and a sapphire ring. It wasn’t much to go on. She couldn’t exactly search all the basements in Echo Bay, and she’d already tried to track down the train to no avail. Which left her with the ring.
The darer had recently given Sydney a sapphire ring—presumably the very one she’d worn when she’d kidnapped Caitlin. It made Tenley wonder: What would happen if the ring suddenly and publicly changed hands? Would the darer panic enough to get sloppy?
She’d talked it over with Sydney and Emerson the night before, after they’d caught up one another on all the recent darer developments. They’d all agreed: It was worth a shot. So in the middle of the night, with sleep eluding her, Tenley took action. Ever since the ring accidentally ended up in Guinness’s belongings at their house, Tenley had been storing it for safekeeping. At 3:00 AM she dug it out from the bottom of her dresser and took a few photos of it. Then she listed it on North Shore Sales, a popular local resale site. Each morning, Channel 4 News did a short feature on the site’s best new listings, and, just as Tenley had hoped, that morning the feature had been on the ring. She knew it was a long shot, but if the killer saw the ring on TV and tried to buy it back, they’d finally have a solid lead.
Now, Tenley took a seat in the back of the computer lab and logged on to North Shore Sales’s website. The description she’d listed popped up onto the screen. Gorgeous sapphire ring for sale! Top quality! Tenley’s eyes went to the two blue envelopes at the top of the page. It looked as if she had messages.
The first one was spam. But the second one looked legitimate. I’m interested in purchasing this ring, a user named Computerlover2 had written. Would you be able to meet at 4:30 today so I can take a look at it through a jeweler’s loupe? I’ll be at 331 Hillside Drive in Echo Bay.
Tenley’s heart rate spiked instantly. It probably wasn’t their darer. But there was always a chance.
I’ll be there, she wrote back.
At four twenty that afternoon, Tenley was on her way to 331 Hillside Drive. She had the radio on a smooth-rock station, something she did only when she drove alone, and she let the piano-dominated song calm her nerves. In just ten minutes she would find out who Computerlover2 was.
The song ended, replaced by the DJ’s low, smooth voice. “Marlin Coby here with a North Shore weather update. Eight states are likely to be hit by a blizzard building off the Gulf of Mexico, including our great state of Massachusetts.”