Chapter 67 Caro
CARO
THIS CAN’T BE REAL, Caro thinks. It has to be staged somehow.
She wants it to be staged. She wants Hope to have orchestrated this for some reason because then it won’t mean that a strange man is holding a real knife to Hope’s throat and that Page from the resort hasn’t accused either Caro’s father or Caro’s husband of murdering Page’s sister, whose bones they found in the Underground.
None of this can be happening. The fumes are making her sick and dizzy.
Maybe she’s hallucinating? But Hope is alive, and that is good.
She looks very tired and thin, dark circles under her eyes, her skin pale under her tan.
But that electricity, that something about her that draws people to her, is still there. Dimmed, but shining.
“Hope?” Caro says. “You’re alive. You didn’t die in the Underground.”
“I did not.” Hope’s voice is very calm, her tone dry. “I think you should all get out of here,” she says. “He only has a knife. Not a gun. There are five of you. Six? I’m sorry, these fumes and him cutting off my windpipe are making it hard to count.”
“Just let us all go,” Ash says to the man, her voice desperate. “The police are coming.”
“Then I’d better be fast,” the man says. His voice sounds vaguely familiar. Who is he? “There are more of you than I expected.” He nods to Caro. “There’s a flare gun in the backpack next to you. Bring it to me.”
“Who the hell are you?” Caro asks. “Why should I do what you say?” Why would I let you shoot flares into the gasoline and set us all on fire? She sees that Dan is ready to spring, to try to take down whoever this man is. Don’t, she thinks to him. Please don’t. It’s too risky.
“Because I’ll kill her if you don’t,” the man says.
Okay, touché. Caro will indeed bring him the flare gun. Can she shoot him with it without setting them all ablaze?
“You can let us all go.” Ash’s tone is level now, but her outstretched hands are shaking. “We don’t even know who you are. Everything can still be fine. We won’t turn you in. We won’t even look for you. Will we, you guys?”
The man laughs. “You’ve been hunting me down ever since you knew I existed.”
Because you were spying on us, you pervert.
“You need help,” Henry says to the man, rising to his feet from where he’s been kneeling near Page. Caro grabs his arm. “Dad,” she says. “Stop.” Ash and Hope are right. There has to be a way around this. Why can’t she think of it?
“The gun,” the man says again. “Now.” And he presses the knife so hard into Hope’s windpipe that she gags.
Caro grabs the backpack, unzips it. Packages of food—ramen, granola bars, fruit snacks—and bottles of Gatorade fall out.
Some of the bottles roll their way across the uneven flooring.
Caro glances up at the window nearest her.
Could she smash the glass? Could someone climb out?
The minute she takes the flare gun to him, they’re all dead.
The minute she doesn’t, Hope is. It’s impossible math.
There’s the gun, at the bottom of the pack. Caro removes it. “Let’s talk about this,” Henry says, using his gentle doctor’s voice, and oh no, he’s walking toward the man. He’s going to get himself or Hope killed.
“Dan,” Caro says, not sure if this is the right choice. “Get him. Can you hold him?”
Henry tries to dodge away but now Dan’s got Henry, he’s holding him, and Henry is fighting back.
Her eyes meet Dan’s, and she sees so much pain there, but he’s pulling Henry toward the door, bit by bit, making it look like it’s part of the struggle so the man doesn’t notice and turn on them.
Yes, she thinks to Dan, as hard as she can. Get out. Get the two of you out.
“You were supposed to disappear,” the man says. “But none of you could. I wouldn’t let you.” Hope looks tiny in his arms. She’s fighting for breath, the knife still pressed to her throat.
Caro doesn’t think anymore. She’s across the room, the gun in her hands, slipping but not falling, bent on one thing only. Ash moves at exactly the same time.
They rush for Hope.
He draws the knife across her neck.