Chapter 16
“Well, there goes your theory,” Wren murmured beside me as we hurried after Sutton. “The blood on his neck and shoes really did have some other explanation.”
I didn't say anything. I couldn't.
We joined the others as they gathered around the old woodshed at the far north edge of the grounds; the one where Delia's body was being kept. The door was open, and through the gap I could see Rhys.
Face down on the shed floor, one arm bent beneath him, the other stretched out toward the wall.
His dark hair was completely saturated with blood that had spread outward and was still dripping, tracing slow lines down the back of his neck.
His jacket and shirt had been split open across his back in a brutal, sweeping strike, the fabric dark and wet around it.
He wasn't moving.
Knox was crouched just inside the doorway, close enough to touch him, his face drained to a sick, gray-white. His hands were stiff at his sides like he’d forgotten how to use them.
I stared at the back of Rhys’s head, my thoughts skidding uselessly in every direction. It didn't feel real. Some stubborn, stupid part of my brain kept waiting for him to move, to push himself up off the floor, to say that this was all just a sick joke.
But he didn’t. He couldn’t.
He was really dead.
The realization hit me like a cold slap in the face, and something inside me seemed to collapse in on itself. Guilt surged in behind the shock, sharp and corrosive, eating through me from the inside out.
One of the last things Rhys had done, only a few hours earlier, was take me aside and teach me how to defend myself, because he thought it might help keep me alive while there was a killer on the loose.
And how had I repaid him? I’d constructed a case against him in my head and convinced my friends he was the monstrous killer in question.
He wasn’t a monster. I was.
I was a horrible person who’d taken a bunch of half-seen details and bad timing and spun them into a fully formed accusation; one that had almost led to me filing a report with the police.
My stomach turned at the thought.
I could’ve destroyed Rhys’s life. For nothing.
Jasmine’s fingers tightened around my arm as she leaned in close, her voice barely more than a breath against my ear. “I feel like such a bitch right now,” she muttered.
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t even look at her.
Around us, the group had gone eerily still. One girl was crying quietly, but the others just stood there, silent and staring. Knox still hadn’t moved.
“What happened?” Wren asked in a hushed voice.
Sutton shook her head, her face pale but set. “We don’t know yet. Knox hasn’t said anything.”
“We heard him yelling a few minutes ago, and then he just stopped,” Jensen said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Went totally blank. I think he’s in shock.”
“Maybe we should cover the body,” Caitlin said. “Letting him sit there staring at it probably isn’t helping.”
“Zach already went to get a sheet. He should be back any second.”
Caitlin took a slow step forward, one hand lifted slightly like she was approaching a frightened animal. “Hey, Knox,” she said gently. “Do you think you can tell us what happened?”
His head jerked upward, eyes unfocused. He opened his mouth, closed it, then dragged a hand over his face like he was trying to wake himself up.
“Rhys thought we should come and check on Delia. Make sure no animals had gotten in and started eating her,” he finally said, his voice hollow. “Halfway over here, I needed to take a piss. So I told Rhys to go ahead. Said I’d be right behind him.”
He stopped, swallowing hard.
Caitlin nodded. “Okay. And then?”
“I… I didn’t even go to the bathroom.” Knox’s jaw clenched, and he pointed to the nearby woods.
“I just went behind a tree over there. I was only gone for two minutes.
Maybe three. I figured… I mean, it's the middle of the day, right?
I figured it'd be fine.” He swallowed hard again.
“I came back and he was just… he was like this.”
Sutton moved a little closer. “Did you see anyone? Anything?”
Knox shook his head slowly. “Nothing. It’s like he came out of nowhere. He must’ve sneaked up behind him and—” His voice broke off, his gaze dragging back to the body.
“Whoever this guy is, he’s getting bolder,” someone muttered from the edge of the group. “It’s fucking broad daylight.”
He was right. This attack hadn’t happened in the dead of night when darkness gave everything a cover.
It had happened in the middle of the day with the sun high overhead.
Out here on the edge of the campgrounds where no one usually went, yes, but still...
it seemed like a progression. A shift in confidence or patience. Or both.
“We’re so fucked,” I heard Jensen mutter. “Rhys was the biggest guy here, and he still got taken out. So what chance do the rest of us have?”
“Not helpful, Jensen!” Maren snapped.
Zach came jogging up a second later, slightly out of breath, a folded sheet clutched in his hands. “Here,” he said. “We can cover him now.”
He took a step toward the doorway, and Knox suddenly lurched to his feet. “No!” he said. “Don’t come any closer!”
Zach froze. “Uhh…”
“Maybe I got it wrong,” Knox said hurriedly, dropping back down again. “Maybe when I checked… maybe I was wrong. He could just be unconscious. He could wake up.” His voice was climbing, frantic now. “I need to check again.”
As he rambled, he pressed two fingers against Rhys’s neck. “Wake up, man,” he muttered. “Gotta get up now.”
“Oh my god.” Jasmine turned her head, whispering so that only the people closest to her could hear. “I never thought I’d feel sorry for Knox, but this is just too tragic to watch.”
Caitlin moved forward and gently took one corner of the sheet from Zach. “Knox,” she said, her voice steady and kind. “I’m so sorry, but we really need to cover him now.”
“But he might not be dead,” Knox insisted, his eyes wild. “If we just wait—”
“Hey.” Jesse crouched down in front of him, steady and calm. “Look at me.”
Knox’s gaze flicked to him.
“I know this is tough,” Jesse said quietly. “But we need you to take a breath and step back so we can take care of this, okay?”
For a second, it looked like Knox might fight it. Then something in him gave way, and he nodded once, barely.
Jesse helped him to his feet and guided him away while Zach and Caitlin stepped forward and carefully draped the sheet over Rhys’s body.
Sutton turned to look at the rest of the group. Her face was still pale, but her jaw was set with grim determination. “While Jesse gets Knox cleaned up, I need everyone else to come with me to the assembly hall,” she said. “We need to talk about what’s happening here. Properly.”
No one argued.
We moved as a group, slow and quiet, like something had been drained out of us, leaving only a hollow, unsteady kind of momentum behind.
When we reached the main hall, Sutton peeled away from the group without a word, heading straight for the wall where stacks of plastic chairs had been pushed aside.
She grabbed one, then another, dragging them across the floor and into the center of the room.
The harsh scrape of plastic against wood sliced through the silence.
“A little help?” she said snidely, not looking at anyone in particular.
That was enough to snap the rest of us into motion. People moved without speaking, pulling chairs from along the walls and setting them down one by one until a loose circle began to take shape in the middle of the hall.
I lowered myself into one of the chairs, my hands clasped too tightly in my lap, my pulse still uneven. All I could see in my mind’s eye was Rhys. Not the way he’d looked in the shed, but the way he’d looked three hours ago. Alive. Warm. Solid.
My throat tightened, and I forced my gaze downward.
Sutton stepped into the center of the circle and clapped her hands, sharp enough to make a few people flinch. When everyone’s attention shifted to her, she drew in a breath and straightened slightly.
“Over the last few days, we haven’t really talked about this properly,” she said. “We’ve thrown around a few half-baked ideas, sure. But that’s it. So I think it’s time we actually addressed what’s going on.”
She paused, scanning the group as a few murmurs of agreement rippled through. Then her eyes landed on me.
“A couple of days ago, Alissa and Jasmine floated the idea that the killer might be one of us,” she continued. “At the time, it sounded too horrible to even consider. But I think it’s time we took that possibility seriously. And I think it’s also time we addressed the elephant in the room.”
Tamsin frowned. “What elephant?”
Sutton’s gaze moved slowly around the circle, lingering just long enough on each face to make it uncomfortable.
“Most of us have worked here every summer for the past four years,” she said. “And in all that time, we’ve never had anything bad happen.”
“If you say so,” Jasmine muttered under her breath.
Sutton’s eyes flicked to her, but she didn’t rise to it. Instead, she looked back at me. “This year, three new counselors showed up,” she went on, her voice tightening, “and suddenly people started dropping like flies.”
The shift in the room was immediate.
“Hold on,” I said, sitting up straighter. “Are you actually accusing me? Or Simon and Grayson?”
“I’m not accusing anyone,” Sutton replied coolly. “I’m pointing out a pattern.”
Jasmine let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Oh my god. Are you serious right now?”
“Everything was fine until you three arrived,” Sutton continued, ignoring her.
“Also, Alissa, you were actually the very first person to suggest that the killer might be one of us.” Her head tilted slightly.
“Almost like you were trying to steer suspicion away from yourself before anyone even thought to look in your direction.”
“That’s fucking bullshit,” Jasmine snapped. “The last thing we need right now is you turning this into some kind of witch hunt.”
“I’m not starting a witch hunt. I’m just—”