New Year Island (47 page)

But Juan was staring at her now, and the look of pain blooming in his eyes stopped her dead. He had let her down, and she had hurt him terribly in return—but she had no idea how.

He made no attempt to disguise his sorrow. She wanted to look away, but his dark eyes held her, drowning her in his private pain. She knew the patterns of grief well. She could tell this was an old wound—one he had carried for so long that it had become a part of him, defined him.

“Search me.” His voice was hoarse. He lifted his arms away from his sides, the gun still held on JT, but his eyes on her.

Camilla stepped close. She glanced at Jordan, who was biting a thumbnail and looking away, lost in some separate worry. Camilla searched Juan’s pockets, looking down at her hands the whole time, very aware of his wounded eyes on her. When she reached her arms around his waist to check his belt he tilted his head toward her, probing her expression, and she swallowed. This close to him, she could hear his pained breathing, sharp and shallow through his nose. But she sensed no menace directed at her—only that bottomless well of unhappiness. Her own breath sped up in sympathy.

Juan’s phone had a quarter battery charge left, but no signal. She found nothing else.

She looked up at him, wishing she could take back whatever she had said that hurt him. “So it was just the gun you didn’t want us to find?”

He nodded.

“You’re wasting your time, girl.” JT glared. “He’s the one.”

Taking a deep breath, Camilla stepped back. Juan’s eyes followed her.

“Okay,” she said to the room. “That got us nowhere…”

“I want my gun back,” JT said. “Give it to me, and maybe I don’t kill you.”

Jordan spoke. “Juan isn’t with Julian. I know that.”

Camilla raised her voice. “Please, JT, can you sit down before someone gets hurt? And, Juan, can you put that away?”

“You’re making a mistake,” JT said. But to her relief, he backed up and sat down against the wall.

Juan gestured with the gun. “Legs out in front of you.”

JT stretched his legs across the floor, and Juan relaxed, letting the gun drop to his side. He kept his finger on the trigger, though.

“So what next?” he asked her.

She had no idea. Her plan was a bust. But wait—they hadn’t searched
everyone
yet.

“Veronica,” she said. “It seems we missed you somehow—”

Veronica cut her off. “There’s a problem.”

“I
swear to God I had no idea,” Veronica said.

The silence in the room was overwhelming. Camilla stared at her in shock, seeing fear in those pale eyes.
Veronica
was Julian’s spy?

Brent raised a hand to scratch the side of his head, but she found nothing cute about the gesture anymore. “What are you talking about?” he rumbled.

“If I had known what was going to happen to Lauren… to Heather… I’d never have done it.” Veronica’s hands were shaking. “I swear to God.”

“What did you do?” Camilla asked her.

“Sit down, JT.” Behind her, Juan’s voice held a note of warning, but Camilla couldn’t look away.

“I have a communications device,” Veronica said. “It’s been used to send me instructions.”

Camilla was surprised at how betrayed she felt. Veronica had hugged her when her nose was broken. She had intervened when JT was manhandling her. Veronica frightened her, but Camilla had looked up to her, too—admired her for her fearlessness and directness.

That she had been lying this whole time made Camilla very, very angry. “What instructions?” she asked.

“I can see what this looks like, but I’m not the spy. I’m not working with Julian.”

“
What
instructions?”

Veronica reached into a pocket and pulled out a clunky, old-fashioned text pager. She held it out with a shaking hand. “I found this during the scavenger hunt.”

Camilla took it from her, and read the first message: “STAND BY FOR INSTRUCTIONS.” She hit the button that scrolled to the next message, read it, and something coiled in her gut. She stared at Veronica.

“What does it say?” JT’s voice held an edge like fingernails on a chalkboard.

“Sit down, JT.” Juan spoke louder this time.

“Why?” Camilla asked Veronica. “Why would you do this to us? People are dying now.”

“I was losing. I was in last place. I need that money.” Veronica’s eyes hardened. “Safe Harbor is bankrupt. If I don’t win, I have to shut down the shelter.” She looked at Mason. “The bank is taking the property out from under me, you grinning vulture. Leaving those women no place to go—”

“That’s not good enough.” Camilla locked eyes with her. “Ask Lauren. Ask Heather.”

“There is no money
now,
Veronica.” Brent’s large hand closed over Camilla’s, and he gently took the pager from her. “You can be sure of that.” He leaned forward, squinting to read the message on its screen, and stiffened.

“Doc.” JT’s voice cut through the room. “Tell us
all
what it says. Right now.”

“‘DESTROY EMERGENCY BEACON ASAP.’” Brent dropped the pager to the floor. “That’s what it says.” He put his hands in his vest pockets and stared at Veronica with contempt. “I hope you realize what you’ve done. Two women are dead because of it.”

“It’s not like that.” Veronica’s mouth tightened. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“JT. Sit. Down.” Juan’s voice—calm, but with cold finality. “Last warning.”Camilla sensed the room about to explode behind her, but she didn’t look away from Veronica’s eyes. “What you did to JT, setting him up like that—it’s disgusting enough if you
are
the spy,” she said. “If you aren’t, it’s even worse.”

“I… oh, shit. Forget it.” Veronica spun and stormed off, disappearing through the doorway to the other house.

Natalie half-stood, staring after her.

Mason grinned. “Not the best role model, Natalie. But hey, she sure can teach you to look out for number one.”

“You’re just going to let her go?” JT said. “She fucking
blinded
me. Doc says I’m never going to see out of this eye again. Did it occur to any of you to ask how she happened to have my court-martial transcript?” He sat against the wall, staring at Camilla with his one remaining eye, restrained by the gun in Juan’s hand. He had saved her life when Travis tried to stab her. He didn’t deserve this.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “But no more violence. Nobody else dies here.”

“They threw Travis into the mix to distract us from her,” JT said. “She’s a killer, remember? Murdered her first husband. None of us is safe as long as she’s running around.”

With a pop and crackle, the monitor on the wall behind Camilla came to life, lighting the faces in front of her with stark, artificial contrast. The room went silent. She looked over her shoulder.

The screen showed the same room they now stood in, but empty of people. The floor was littered with small objects, instead: the gifts from the previous contest. In real life, the gifts had been shoved to the corners, their LEDs all dark, batteries dead now. But on the monitor, lights still glowed from them: a few green, but mostly red. It was a scene from yesterday, Camilla realized. She braced herself, knowing that whatever Julian wanted them to see was sure to be bad.

On-screen, a small figure entered the room, moving with caution. She seemed to be sorting through the items on the floor, occasionally adding one to the small pile in her arms. She glanced up toward the camera for a moment. Natalie.

She had missed her turn, Camilla remembered now. With the lowest score, she would have gone last. But then Travis had attacked them, and events had taken their awful course, and the game had been abandoned.

But not by everyone, it seemed.

On the monitor, Natalie moved to the center of the room, crouching to dump her armful of gifts in a clear spot on the floor. She reached down, manipulating them as a green glow spread from the pile, growing in intensity. Natalie looked up and out at them from the center of the screen, her face lit green from below. She seemed to stare directly at them, checking something.

Mason laughed—an unrestrained bray of amusement. “You’re watching your score, aren’t you?” he said. “To see if it goes up.”

Camilla looked at the real-life Natalie, standing beside her. She seemed paralyzed by the sight of herself up on the screen.

On the monitor, she finished what she was doing. Staring up toward the camera again, she nodded once, as if satisfied with what she saw. Then she stood and swept her pile of gifts aside with her foot, scattering them among the other items. With a final glance at the camera, she left the room. The screen went black, and the scoreboard appeared on the monitor.

Hunched in her hoodie, Natalie looked guilty. And scared. Her score had been in the single digits before, Camilla recalled.

She stared at the floor. They had no leverage over Julian. They were doing this to themselves and each other while he sat back, laughing at them and recording it all. She thought about what she had just seen Natalie do, and a surge of acid vomit gushed into her throat. Forcing it back down, Camilla spoke without looking up.

“Tell me, Natalie, did you do that
before
—or
after
—Lauren died?”

Natalie dropped her head and walked away fast, exiting through the same doorway as Veronica.

“Well.” Taking a deep breath, Camilla raised her eyes to see Mason, Brent, JT, Jordan, and Juan watching her now, as if they were waiting for her to do something. She focused on Juan, who still held the gun at his side.

“If we have any more secrets from each other,” she said, “I suggest we get them out on the table
now
. Before something worse happens…”

The scoreboard faded, and the monitor lit up behind her. Camilla turned and found herself staring into Julian’s easy grin.

“G
ood afternoon.” Julian’s voice, like his expression, was calm and friendly.

“You son of a bitch!” Brent shouted. “How
dare
you smile at us!”

Everyone surged forward, crowding in front of the monitor, their angry yells rising all around Camilla.

“Let me talk to him,” she shouted, waving them back.
“Let me talk!”
The room quieted down.

Julian gazed from the screen, his serene smile unchanged. He steepled his fingers in front of him and tapped his joined index fingers against his lips, as if trying to decide how to begin.

Camilla wasn’t going to give him that chance. “If you say another word, I’m going to pull this monitor off the wall and destroy it. And the one in the other house, too. And then I’m going to start ripping out cameras.” Her throat tightened. “I don’t know how many of us will help, but I won’t be doing it alone.”

Julian’s grin turned rueful. His gaze floated somewhere over her shoulder, not meeting her eyes. Ignoring her.

“Whatever you think you can make us do to each other here,” she said, “I promise you, it isn’t going to happen. You need to listen right now.”

He looked down at the ground, shaking his head and holding up his palms, still smiling. Why wasn’t he taking her seriously?

“I’m pulling the plug, then.” She grabbed the edges of the screen and thrust her face toward his, feeling her features stretch in an unfamiliar snarl. “We’ll build a raft if we have to—”

“I can’t hear you now,” Julian said, interrupting her. “I can’t see you either. After getting to know you all, this is a bit awkward to be speaking to a blank screen.”

What?

The room fell into a shocked silence.

Camilla’s legs went loose and rubbery beneath her, and she grabbed the wall for support. Julian was
right there
in front of her, but she couldn’t even talk to him. They couldn’t even
beg
him for help.

“Over the last few days,” he said, “we’ve come to realize that it’s insufficient to merely isolate our cast of actors and hide the behind-the-scenes workings of my production crew. We’ve learned we also need to isolate the production staff, including myself, from you.”

Camilla turned away and pressed her forehead against the wall. They were trapped, buried alive on this tiny island. Chest heaving, she sucked in breath after breath, unable to get the air she needed. She was buried alive all over again, trying to escape, unable to find a way out.

Get a grip.
What Veronica had said to her last night—she needed to get a grip now, before she lost it totally. She rolled her body against the wall to face the monitor again, forcing her breaths to calm, making herself listen to what Julian was saying.

His face changed, becoming serious.

“You see, we chose you well indeed. You are an amazing group of individuals—true survivors all. You’ve proved you can thrive even under these adverse circumstances. I am honored to be hosting this show with you. Deeply honored.”

He looked thoughtful. “And therein lies the problem. I myself, as well as the other crew members, now risk being influenced by you. We all have our favorites—I definitely have mine.

“Each of you has…”—Julian waved a hand to indicate something off-screen to either side of him—”…
fans
here on the production crew, rooting for you to win. This makes it hard to keep the contests fair. We needed a way to make sure that none of us, deliberately or inadvertently, provide cues or hints or make biased contest rulings, giving someone an unfair advantage. And this was the only way to be sure. So from here forward, until we’ve declared our winner, this show will be run double blind.”