Chapter 51
DURING HER TIME ON REALITY TV, Cole has met two kinds of fans: the ones who love the show and are thrilled to meet her, and the ones who are so obsessed with the show and, they can barely function in her presence.
Alice Chu definitely falls into the second category. The younger woman was literally clutching her chest when they were first introduced, and everything she said was punctuated by a darting gaze and nervous giggle before it finally occurred to her to invite them inside.
She’s calmer now, but it’s clear that Cole and Barb have interrupted something.
The portable stereo in the corner continues to play moody rock ballads at a volume louder than Cole would prefer.
There are a half dozen freshly lit candles on the table, and an open bottle of red wine is breathing next to two glasses, not yet filled.
Whatever is simmering on the small wood stove smells good.
The whole cozy scene looks like something out of a movie, and maybe if Cole were into rustic cabins out in the woods with no flush toilet and only a generator for electricity, she might have found it romantic.
But safe to say, this isn’t her thing. Even with the fireplace burning and the pretty view of the small lake, she can’t help but feel that only a recluse would choose to stay here.
Alice Chu doesn’t seem like the hermit type. Skittish, yes—the woman can’t seem to hold eye contact, and she can’t seem to sit still. From what Cole’s gathered, she works for Seaside Police in their IT department, but she also occasionally works for Barb. Whatever that means.
“It must drive you nuts that there’s no internet,” Barb is saying to Alice over the music, as the other woman stokes the fire with a long-handled poker stick. “We can’t get a signal. And I have to admit I’ve never pictured you as the rustic-cabin-in-woods, fire-stoking type.”
“Neither did I, at first,” Alice says with a chuckle, darting another shy look at Cole.
“This is very much Owen’s thing. But it’s kind of good to unplug once in a while and just be in nature.
Forces me to calm down, since I’m always so .
. .” She wriggles her fingers with her free hand and makes face, as if to imply frazzled.
“Owen’s always trying to get me to decompress, but my idea of decompressing is binge-watching . . . well . . . you,” she says to Cole.
“And who’s Owen?” Cole asks politely. “Is that your husband?”
“Boyfriend, though I’m hoping that changes to fiancé soon.
” Alice and laughs again, though this time it sounds a bit forced.
She’s clutching the poker stick so tightly, her knuckles have turned white.
“So what did you need, Barb? I’m surprised you tracked me down here.
I don’t remember telling you where Owen’s cabin was. ”
Wait. Marty’s old cabin is now Owen’s cabin? Cole exchanges an uneasy glance with Barb. Something about all this feels very off, and judging from the look on her friend’s face, Barb feels it, too.
Seeming to pick up on the vibes, Alice says, “I’m sorry, I’m trying to play it cool, but I can’t believe I’m actually in the presence of Cole Lennox. I am such a huge fan. Is it true that Cecily Monaco is in Seaside, too?”
“She was, but she couldn’t stick around,” Cole says.
“I would have died if I’d gotten to meet her.”
“This one nearly did.” Cole points to Barb, whose gaze hasn’t stopped roving around the space, checking out every nook and cranny. “She gushed so hard she almost passed out.”
“Shut up,” Barb says.
“You shut up,” Cole says back, but the banter between them is light. It’s as if they both instinctively know how to play this.
For instance, Barb hasn’t yet mentioned to Alice that Cameron Wallace is with them, and so Cole hasn’t mentioned it, either. She can only assume that Barb must not want Alice to know that the detective is somewhere outside, looking around the property.
Looking for Marty, that is. Which Barb also hasn’t yet brought up.
“So where is Owen right now?” Barb finally asks, looking at the table set with candles and wine. “I’d love to meet him.”
“He just went to get some groceries,” Alice says, looking back and forth between Cole and Barb. “But, um, you never said how you knew I was here.”
“I actually didn’t know you were here,” Barb says. “I got this address from a private investigator. You know that serial killer docuseries everyone is talking about? You’ve probably heard that my friend Lorelei—our friend Lorelei—was one of the victims.”
“Yes, of course,” Alice says, but she looks confused. “That’s awful.”
“And so her stepfather, Burt, and his son, Marty . . . well, this was their cabin.” Barb glances at Cole. “We’ve been trying to track Marty down, but nobody’s heard from him in years. This place is his last known address.”
“In the docuseries, the serial killer is now trying to say he didn’t kill Lorelei,” Cole explains. “As you can imagine, that’s pretty upsetting. So we just want to talk to Marty and find out what he remembers from back then.”
Alice frowns. “I’m not sure how I can help you. This is Owen’s cabin. He’s had it ever since I’ve known him. He’s never mentioned anyone named Marty.”
“And yet Owen’s name isn’t on any of the paperwork,” Barb says. It’s the first time Cole has heard her sound like a reporter. “And didn’t you tell me that you and Owen actually met long before you started dating? How many years ago was that?”
“I . . . I don’t know exactly. It was during lockdowns.” Alice takes a step forward. “Sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but what’s going on, Barb? I feel like you’re interrogating me. Do you think . . . do you think Owen did something?”
“Alice, how well do you really know Owen?” Cole asks. “Like, are you sure his name is actually Owen?”
“What?” Alice says, her mouth dropping open. “Of course his name is Owen. Owen Stark. Why would he lie about that?”
Cole and Barb exchange another look. They have to tell her. Alice has the right to know that the man she’s hoping to marry one day might not be the person she thinks he is. Assuming, of course, that she doesn’t already know.
Denial is a powerful thing, especially when you’re in love. Which means that until you hear it from someone else, you’ll believe the lies he told you, because you desperately need them to be true.
“We think Owen might be Marty,” Cole says. “I’m sorry.”
“What?” Alice says again. “You’re joking.”
“Is he tall?” Barb asks. “Like, really tall?”
Alice inhales sharply. “He’s six-six.”
“Red hair?”
“No,” Alice says, and exhales. “His hair is definitely not red.”
“Are you sure he doesn’t dye it?” Cole asks.
“Okay, this is ridiculous—”
“Better yet, do you have a picture of him?” Barb asks. “Trust me, we’d love to be wrong about this.”
Before Alice can answer, a rumble can be felt. It’s coming from a car engine, and it’s right outside the cabin. Someone else has just arrived.
“He’s back,” Alice says, relief etched all over her face. “You can meet Owen yourself and see that he’s not this Marty person you’re looking for. He wouldn’t lie to me about this cabin, let alone his whole identity.”
Instinctively, Cole moves closer to Barb. A few seconds later, the door to the cabin opens.
A man walks in carrying two full bags of groceries.
Even though she was expecting it, it still shocks Cole to see how tall he is.
Six and a half feet for sure, lean, dressed in a plaid shirt, jeans, and hiking boots.
But his hair and face are obscured by a baseball cap.
He sets the groceries down on the small counter and turns to face them.
Attached to a lanyard hanging around his neck is a Polaroid camera. Beside her, Barb lets out a small gasp.
“I didn’t know we had company,” Alice’s boyfriend says, addressing her first. His voice, while low and a bit monotone, is pleasant enough.
“Hello. I’m Owen. You must be Barb. Alice has mentioned you several times.
And if I’m not mistaken, you are Cole Lennox.
What a pleasure to meet you. Alice and I are huge fans of your show. ”
He pulls off his ball cap to reveal a mess of short, curly, dark hair, and smiles.
Cole exhales. It’s not Marty, not by any stretch of the imagination. The Marty she remembers was pale and freckled, with bright red hair and blue eyes. This man, with his olive skin and brown eyes, looks nothing like him. The only physical trait they share is their height.
And, okay, the old-fashioned Polaroid cameras they like to wear around their necks.
“We’re so sorry,” Barb says, sounding flustered. “We thought you were—”
A scream pierces the air, interrupting Barb mid-sentence. The sound is guttural, coming from somewhere outside the cabin door, which has been left open.
Everyone in the cabin freezes.
And then Cole sees it. The change. In Owen.
It’s not because of his smile, which vanishes instantly as he fixes his gaze on her.
And it’s not in his posture, which goes from relaxed to rigid in a split second.
It’s in his eyes, which have somehow morphed from brown to black.
It’s as if his pupils have dilated all the way open, the way a predator’s would when it spots its prey.
Witnessing a human transform into a monster might be the most terrifying thing Cole has ever seen.
Instinctively, she grabs Barb’s hand and rushes toward the open doorway. But they don’t get very far, because the cabin door slams shut, and everything goes black.