All-Night Party (7 page)

“W
hat if we're wrong?” Hannah demanded. “What if he's still inside, watching
us?”

They all stared at her, thinking about her words.

“Maybe he didn't have a chance to get away after he murdered Cindy,” Hannah continued. Her eyes darted around nervously. “Maybe he heard one of us coming back to the cabin and decided to hide.”

“If he's inside the cabin,” Patrick murmured, “then nobody is safe.”

Marco looked around the kitchen uneasily. “We're sitting ducks.”

“Patrick, where's your gun?” Gil asked. “Go get it.”

“No!” Jackson ordered. “Don't take the gun out, Patrick.”

“Why not?” Patrick demanded. “We need protection!”

“We don't know if the killer is inside,” Jackson insisted. “Let's not jump to conclusions.”

Hannah ignored Jackson's words and clutched Gil's arm. “Maybe he's in one of the closets, watching through a crack. Listening to everything we say.”

“There's only one way to know for sure,” Patrick said. “Search the cabin.”

“We won't sleep tonight unless we know he's not inside,” Marco said grimly.

Hannah shuddered. “I'm not going to be able to sleep tonight. Not with Cindy dead in the kitchen!”

“I'll search with you, Hannah,” Gretchen volunteered.

Hannah wiped away her tears and gave Gretchen a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

The guys began climbing the stairs to the second floor. Gretchen and Hannah tackled the first floor.

“Gretchen, I'm so scared,” Hannah whimpered.

Gretchen reached for a knob on a closet door. She gazed over her shoulder at Hannah. “You're not the only one,” she confessed.

Gretchen's sweaty palm slipped off the brass doorknob. She reached for it a second time and tightened her grip. Twisting the knob, she flung the door open.

The closet was filled with old clothes. No one hiding inside.

As Hannah hovered behind her, Gretchen opened the rest of the closets and peeked behind the drapes in the living room.

Each time, she braced herself for an attack.

Each time, they found no one.

Finally, there was only one place left to search.

The kitchen.

“I can't go back in there,” Hannah cried. “I can't bear to see Cindy dead.”

Gretchen paused with her hand on the kitchen door. “I'll go in by myself. You stay out here.”

“No!” Hannah cried. “Don't leave me alone.”

Gretchen sighed and took Hannah by the arm. She led her into the living room and sat her on the couch. “I won't leave you alone, Hannah. We'll ask one of the guys to search the kitchen.”

Gretchen heard doors opening and closing upstairs. She kept waiting to hear a shout of discovery. But it never came.

“No killer. No killer,” Hannah chanted. She pulled her knees up to her chest and started rocking back and forth.

“No killer inside,” Gretchen repeated softly.

Hannah shivered. “I'm so cold.”

“The fire has almost gone out,” Gretchen said. “I'll build it back up.”

Gretchen reached into the wood bin and tossed logs into the fire. Soon the flames started to grow, crackling and popping, and warm rays of heat drifted out of the fireplace.

Hannah climbed up from the couch and stood in front of the fire, holding out her hands.

“Better?” Gretchen asked.

“A little,” Hannah replied.

Rain pounded the windowpane.

Gretchen stared out at the storm. Were they safe? Or was the escaped prisoner hiding out in the woods? Watching the cabin and getting ready to make his next move?

Would they get off the island alive?

Gretchen went to check the locks on the windows. Pushing aside the half-open drapes, she checked each window. All were secure.

But as the drapes fell back into place, Gretchen froze.

Something on the porch!

Something
moving!

“Someone is out there!” Gretchen gasped.

Chapter
18

G
retchen raced over to the wood bin and pulled out a heavy log.

“Who is it?” Hannah cried. “What did you see?”

Gretchen didn't answer. She ran to the door.

“You can't go out by yourself!” Hannah shrieked. “It's too dangerous! Let one of the guys check.”

Gretchen reached for the doorknob. “By the time they get down here, he could be gone.”

“Don't do this, Gretchen!” Hannah begged. “Please!”

Gretchen pulled open the front door. Lightning flashed across the sky. Rain fell in heavy sheets.

Gretchen slipped out onto the porch. She raised the heavy log in her hand.

Her eyes darted from side to side, seeking the
slightest movement. The wind sprayed her with rain. She felt her wet clothes sticking to her body.

Is my mind playing tricks on me? Gretchen wondered. Am I seeing things?

Over the pounding rain, Gretchen heard a sound.

Behind
her.

Before Gretchen could turn around, a hand fell heavily on her shoulder.

Gretchen whirled around, swinging the log in her upraised hand.

She stared into the eyes of her attacker.

The log fell from her hand and clattered to the porch floor.

Jackson.

“What are you doing out here by yourself?” he angrily demanded.

“When I checked the locks on the windows, I thought I saw someone out here. I was taking a look around.”

“By yourself?” He scowled at her.

“Someone had to check things out,” she replied.

“That was stupid, Gretchen,” Jackson scolded. “You should have waited for one of the guys to go with you.”

Gretchen didn't feel like arguing with him. She brushed past him and stepped back into the house.

Gretchen found a towel in the bathroom and dried herself off. Then she bundled herself in a yellow blanket and stood in front of the fireplace.

Her soaking-wet hair felt plastered to her head and
she tried to pull a comb through the tangles. Jackson stood beside her, wrapped in a blanket of his own, also warming himself up.

“He could have been watching you the entire time, getting ready to strike,” Jackson said. “It's a good thing Hannah told me you were out there.”

Jackson's words chilled Gretchen more than the icy rain outside. She recalled the scene in the kitchen that she'd overheard. Jackson and Cindy arguing.

The sound of the slap.

Then the silence.

Should she ask Jackson about that argument? Would he tell her the truth?

“We didn't find anybody,” Patrick announced as he marched into the room with Gil and Marco.

“Neither did we,” Gretchen replied. She left Jackson at the fireplace and plopped down next to Hannah on the couch.

“Did you check everywhere down here?” Jackson asked.

“Everywhere except the kitchen,” Gretchen told him.

“Marco and I will do it,” Jackson offered.

Gretchen watched Jackson and Marco disappear into the kitchen. She could hear them moving about. Then all was quiet. Minutes dragged by. Jackson and Marco didn't return from the kitchen.

Gretchen glanced at her watch. What was taking them so long?

“What's going on in there?” Hannah whimpered.

“I don't know,” Gretchen answered.

She jumped up from the couch and strode to the kitchen door. She pressed her ear against the door. All was silent on the other side.

“The killer
is
in there!” Gretchen shrieked. “He's killed Jackson and Marco!”

Chapter
19

“J
ackson!” Hannah cried.

Gretchen stepped back as Jackson and Marco came walking out of the kitchen.

“What happened?” Gretchen demanded as they returned to the front room. She sat down next to Hannah. “What took you so long?”

“Sorry,” Jackson apologized, sitting in a wooden chair across from the couch. “We were in the walk-in pantry.”

“So the kitchen is safe?” Gil asked.

Jackson nodded.

“What do we do now?” Hannah asked. “Wait till the police arrive tomorrow?”

Marco shook his head. “No. We ask some questions.”

Gretchen stared at Marco. “Questions? What kind of questions?”

Marco turned to Patrick, who was sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace. “How did you say you got that blood on your shirt?”

Gretchen watched as all eyes in the room locked on the front of Patrick's shirt.

“I told you,” Patrick explained. “I cut my hand when I opened the bedroom window.”

“But there isn't any blood on the windowsill,” Marco said. “I know. I checked when we were searching upstairs.”

Patrick laughed. “So? Is that supposed to mean I'm a killer?”

“Why isn't there any blood?” Gil asked.

“There isn't any blood on the windowsill because I cleaned it up.” Patrick held up his bandaged hand. “And if you still don't believe me, you can take a look at the cut on my palm. Or check out the garbage in the kitchen. It's filled with pieces of broken glass.”

Gretchen felt her body trembling. She knew it wasn't from the rain and cold, but from the fear in the room.

“Can we please stop attacking each other?” she pleaded. “It won't do us any good. Let's try to figure out what we're going to do next. We need a plan.”

Hannah began crying again.

“I feel so awful,” she sobbed. “I fought with Cindy yesterday afternoon. I found out she won the scholarship I applied for, and I said some horrible things to her. Now I'll never have a chance to apologize.”

Gretchen studied Hannah, wondering if her tears were real. She remembered the scene in the kitchen.

Remembered Hannah saying she wished Cindy was dead.

Remembered how angry Hannah had been about the scholarship.

With Cindy dead, there was a good chance that the scholarship would go to Hannah.

And
no
chance of Cindy stealing Gil back.

Gretchen's eyes traveled from Hannah to Jackson.

Creepy Jackson.

Always staring at her.

Always watching her.

Could he have been watching Cindy the way he watched her? She hardly knew him. He could be capable of anything.

Even murder?

“I heard you arguing with Cindy tonight, Jackson,” Gretchen blurted out. “I was outside. I heard you through the kitchen window.”

“No way,” Jackson denied.

“It was your voice,” Gretchen insisted. “I know what I heard.”

She saw Jackson's cheeks turn red as his temper flared. “Are you calling me a liar?”

Gretchen couldn't believe what she was seeing. Jackson was losing his cool!

“I never argued with Cindy tonight,” he insisted. “You heard somebody else. Maybe it was Patrick. Or Marco.”

He's lying, Gretchen thought. I know what I heard. Jackson was arguing with Cindy. He slapped her.

But did the argument spin out of control?

Did Jackson do more than
slap
Cindy?

Did he kill her?

And would he have killed me out on the porch if he knew I overheard his argument with Cindy?

And… could he kill again?

Chapter
20