Unknown
Chapter Eleven
Push
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Push stared down at me like if he frowned hard enough, I would suddenly become reasonable.
Bad news for him. I had not been reasonable since the moment my sister went missing, and I wasn’t planning on starting now.
We stood in the middle of the clubhouse common room facing off like this was some kind of extremely weird Western showdown, except instead of guns, I had my hands planted on my hips and Push had his arms crossed over his chest.
His version was probably more intimidating. Mine had more attitude.
“We are not going traipsing around the island,” he said.
“It’s not traipsing,” I countered. “It’s called investigating.”
“You can investigate from the laptop.”
“I have investigated from the laptop until my eyes almost melted out of my head. I need to see it in person.”
Push’s jaw flexed. That was becoming one of his things.
Jaw flex meant annoyed. Long stare meant worried. Short answers meant both.
“What exactly do you need to see?” he asked.
I lifted my hands slightly. “The haunted house area. The paths. The places I keep seeing on the footage. Then I want to head over to where the ghost boat drops people off.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve seen it on camera, but camera angles lie. Distances look different. Blind spots look different. Routes look different. I need to walk it.”
“We have maps.”
“Maps also lie.”
“They don’t lie. They’re maps.”
“Have you ever tried to use GPS in a corn maze?”
His brows pulled together. “No.”
“Then you don’t know.”
From the bar, Prime snorted into his coffee.
Anchor stood behind the bar with his back to us, doing something with a stack of papers and pretending he wasn’t listening to every word. Prime leaned beside him, arms crossed, looking way too entertained by my argument with Push.
Vin and Cross were at the pool table, half-playing and half-watching. Piney sat outside on the front porch since the front door was propped open to let in the nice weather.
A perfect day to investigate. Or traipse. Whatever.
Push leaned closer. “After yesterday, you really think I’m letting you wander around this island?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Letting me?”
His eyes narrowed right back. “Don’t start.”
“Oh, I’m starting.”
Prime laughed quietly.
Push didn’t look away from me. “You thought someone was watching you from the woods.”
“Yes. And then you and half the club searched the forest and found exactly nothing.”
“Doesn’t mean there wasn’t something there.”
“It also doesn’t mean I’m supposed to sit in my room staring at footage until I become part of the furniture.”
“Furniture doesn’t argue as much.”
“Then stop trying to put me in a corner like a lamp.”
Cross missed his shot at the pool table and muttered, “I like her.”
Vin leaned against his cue. “Push looks like he doesn’t know whether to kiss her or lock her in her room.”
My eyes shot to Vin.
Push’s head turned slowly.
Vin immediately held up one hand. “That was an observation, not advice.”
“Smart,” Prime muttered.
I ignored the heat creeping up my neck because absolutely not. We were not doing that. I was not blushing because someone implied Push wanted to kiss me.
Ridiculous.
Possibly accurate.
Still ridiculous.
I focused back on Push. “I just want to look around.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Anchor finally spoke without turning around. “Take Piney with you if you’re going anywhere.”
I blinked. “Really?”
“Yes,” Anchor and Prime answered in unison.
From the porch, Piney called, “Where we going?”
I closed my eyes for half a second. Fantastic. I opened them and called back, “We’re just walking around.”
Piney appeared in the doorway with a grin. “Sounds romantic.”
“It is absolutely not romantic,” I said.
Push muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like Jesus Christ.
I looked at Anchor’s back. “Isn’t it enough that I asked Push to come with me?”
“Piney goes with, or you don’t go,” Anchor said.
I glared at the back of his head, hard, and then flipped him off.
“Put your hand down, McKayla, that’s not going to help your case,” Anchor said.
I dropped my hand like it had caught fire and looked at Push. How the hell did he know I was flipping him off?
Push chuckled and nodded toward the bar. “There’s a mirror behind the bar, babe.”
I looked. Sure enough, there was a mirror hanging over the back of the bar, and Anchor waved at me through it without turning around.
“Jesus Christ,” I muttered. “Do you people have eyes everywhere?”
“Yes,” Vin said.
“No,” Cross said at the same time.
I pointed between them. “That was deeply unhelpful.”
Piney pushed off the porch railing and stepped inside. “You ready for your field trip, Firecracker?”
“Please stop calling me that.”
“No.”
I sighed. “Everyone here has a real problem with the word no.”
Push grabbed his cut from the back of a chair. “Says the woman who refused to accept it for ten straight minutes.”
“That was different.”
“How?”
“I was right.”
Prime grinned. “She’s got you there.”
Push shot him a look.
Prime lifted both hands. “I’m not involved.”
“You are literally standing right there,” I said.
“Emotionally, I’m not involved.”
Piney laughed and clapped once. “Come on. Let’s go before Anchor decides to send Lost, too, and this turns into a damn parade.”
We headed out through the front door, and I tried very hard not to feel victorious.
I failed.
The second I stepped onto the porch, sunlight hit my face and I breathed in like I’d been trapped underground for a week.
Technically, I had not been trapped underground.
I had been trapped in a comfortable clubhouse with good coffee, breakfast food, and a rotating cast of bikers who acted like arguing was a love language.
Push walked on my right. Piney fell into step on my left, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans as we headed down the porch steps and onto the gravel path leading away from the clubhouse.
Behind us, I heard Vin say something to Cross, followed by the crack of pool balls.
The path from the clubhouse to the haunted house area wound through trees that were just thick enough to make the buildings feel hidden from one another. During the day, sunlight filtered through the leaves in shifting patches across the gravel. At night, those same trees looked much less friendly.
I’d already cracked my skull open near a dead body here. My review of Skull Island nightlife was one star. Would not recommend.
Piney strolled beside me like we were going to a picnic. “So what exactly are we looking for?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“That’s reassuring.”
“I need context.”
Push glanced down at me. “Context?”
“Yes. When I watch footage, I’m seeing pieces. Angles. Seconds. Tiny bits of movement. But I need to understand the layout. Where someone could cut through. Where they’d be visible. Where they’d be invisible. Why the guy in the hoodie chose certain routes.”
Piney nodded slowly. “That actually makes sense.”
I looked at him. “You sound surprised.”
“I mostly came for the walk.”
“At least you’re honest.”
Push stayed quiet, but I could feel him watching me. Not in the same unsettling way I’d felt by the lake yesterday. Push’s attention was different. Heavy, yes, but not threatening. More like he was bracing for me to trip over a root, discover another body, or sprint into traffic.
Given my track record, fair.
We reached the edge of the haunted house area, and I slowed automatically.
In daylight, it was both less scary and somehow more unsettling.
The haunted house itself sat dark and quiet, a massive crooked-looking structure with peeling paint, boarded windows, fake rust, and signs that promised terrible things inside. Without lights flashing and screams pouring from it, the whole thing looked like a stage after the actors had gone home.
Fake blood stained some of the boards near the entrance.
A rubber hand stuck out from beneath a barrel.
A plastic skeleton hung crookedly near the ticket booth; one leg turned backward like even fake death had given up on proper posture.
“This place is ridiculous,” I said.
Piney looked proud. “Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“Still taking it as one.”
Push nodded toward the front entrance. “Main line starts there. People come through the ticket booth, loop around the side, and enter there.”
I studied the layout carefully.
The footage had made this area look tighter, more crowded. In person, there was more space between the buildings than I expected. Enough room for someone to move along the edges without drawing much attention if everyone else was focused on the actors and props.
I walked slowly, scanning. Push and Piney stayed with me. I stopped near one of the food stalls and turned in a circle. “Camera there?”
Push pointed above the ticket booth. “One.”
I glanced up and spotted it. “And there?”
“Another on the corner of the gift shop.”
I looked toward the trees behind the building. “Blind spot?”
Piney rocked back on his heels. “Some. We added more cameras after the first body, but there are still spots.”
“There are always spots,” I murmured.
Push’s eyes sharpened. “That what you’re looking for?”
“Partly.”
I moved toward the side path I’d seen on footage dozens of times. “The hoodie guy came through here in two clips.”
Push followed. “Yeah.”
“Was this open to tourists?”
“Staff and actors mostly. Tourists can end up here if they’re lost or drunk or stupid.”
Piney scratched his beard. “So, tourists.”
“Basically,” Push said.
I stopped halfway down the path. From here, the front of the haunted house was partially blocked by a prop shed, but the dock path beyond the trees was visible.
Interesting. “From here, he could watch the crowd and the dock path,” I said.
Push stepped up beside me and followed my line of sight. “Yeah.”
“Could he get to the dock fast?”
“Through there.” He pointed to a narrower trail between trees. “Cuts down toward the lower path.”
I stared at it for a long moment. The footage had not shown that.