If the world ever got back to normal. Christ. Bettie had family. A son she hadn’t been able to contact when everything went to hell. Cameron would have to find him. She’d have to tell him about all this.
A few people spoke at the grave. Afterwards, Cameron didn’t remember who. She didn’t remember the words they said. She watched Wade the whole time. He stared respectfully at the grave. He paid dutiful attention to each speaker in turn. And he glanced Cameron’s way occasionally. When their eyes met, he’d give her a sad little smile before turning away again—not too quickly, not with any visible guilt. He was the perfect picture of a sorrowful mourner, and a concerned friend.
The sun had gone down by the time people started to drift away from the grave. Naomi, the kid, was first. She’d cried through most of it, and eventually her mother led her away with soothing murmurs. One by one they all left.
Cameron didn’t wait until it was just her and him. She turned and headed for the cabin when there were only a few of them left. She’d almost reached the back door when she heard his voice.
“Cam.”
She didn’t turn around. “What.”
“You want to talk?”
“No.”
“Can I come inside? We can have a drink. You shouldn’t be alone right now.”
I sure as hell don’t want to be alone with you. “I’ll be all right.”
“Come on. Don’t put on your work voice. It’s me, and we’re not at the hospital.”
She rounded on him. He was closer than she’d thought he was. Almost inappropriately close. His feet were slightly spread, powerful arms by his sides. Cameron couldn’t believe she’d ever looked at those arms, at all of him, with anything but contempt. That she’d ever checked him out, even secretly.
“I’m going into my home now. I want to be alone.”
His jaw twitched. Just the tiniest hint of anger, but she could see it. “Come on, Cam. Don’t be stupid. You know better than most people—”
“You’re not coming in. End of discussion.”
She didn’t wait for his answer before she turned and went inside, slamming the door. But even before he spoke, she’d seen the shock on his face—and the fury that had just begun to flare before he was out of her sight.
* * *
She sat on the couch and downed half a bottle of wine in about five minutes, fully intending to keep that pace until she passed out.
The cabin felt empty. She and Bettie hadn’t even spent that much time together here, but the older woman’s presence had been a tangible thing even when she wasn’t in the room. Now that presence was gone, and Cameron felt aimless.
Her eyes went to the door of Bettie’s room. There was a bag in there, and it was full of Bettie’s things. There was a bathroom on the other side, and it had Bettie’s toothbrush. All these … things now, and no owner to claim them. And now Cameron would have to clean them all out.
What should she do with Bettie’s things? If the world ever returned to normal, she felt some obligation to collect everything up and return it to her family, wherever they might be. But what, then? She didn’t want them around the house, she knew that much. She didn’t want them sitting here when Alex and Piper reached the cabins, if they ever did. That was a conversation she didn’t even want to have once, though she knew she’d have to tell Alex about it.
Her thoughts drifted to Wade. She forced him from her mind.
Bettie’s knitting bag sat by the old leather armchair, the one by the back door where she’d liked to sit. That was one bag. It would be easy to tackle. One thing at a time.
Cameron went to the bag. She picked it up and folded the bag’s handles around the rest of it. She’d put it in a box. Everything of Bettie’s could go in a box. Then the box could sit in the basement, hidden away behind Alex’s endless piles of supplies, and she could deal with it whenever she felt like it.
Her hands tightened on the bag.
No. No, she’d keep the bag. Yes, everything else could go in the box. But the knitting bag she’d keep. It would be something to do on her downtime. And it would be a memory of Bettie. Maybe she was being foolish, but she thought she’d like to have something around as a reminder.
She pulled the bag open. There were the needles, the yarn. Some half-finished project Bettie was in the middle of—which she’d never complete now. Maybe Cameron could. Not now, of course. She barely knew what she was doing. But once she got a little better at it, she could finish whatever it was that Bettie had started.
Deep in the bag, something glinted.
Cameron frowned and reached for it. Out came a phone. She stared at it for a moment, not understanding. Then she recognized it.
It was Hernando’s phone.
He’d always been on the damn thing when he first arrived. Cameron remembered thinking it was odd, because there was no cell reception and he couldn’t be texting anyone. Then she realized he must be playing some stupid game to pass the time. And then, before she had died, Bettie had made a big stink about the phone.
And now it was in Cameron’s hand.
How did Bettie find it? Why was it in her knitting bag?
She hit the home button. The phone opened right up. No password. That seemed odd. Hernando had stolen Wade’s camera. Thieves were usually pretty paranoid about protecting their own stuff.
Cameron stared at it, puzzled. The thing was packed with apps, some she recognized and some that were completely unfamiliar. She scrolled through some of the recently opened ones.
The camera was the last app used. Had Bettie been looking through Hernando’s photos?
She opened the camera. A photo roll came up, and she started to scroll through.
Two pictures in, she stopped.
It was a picture of her. Cameron stared at herself on the phone screen.
She was standing on the back patio of the cabin, looking off to the right, not at the camera. Cameron scrolled left. Another picture of her on the patio. Then one of her by the front gate.
Then one of her in her bedroom.
Her shirt was off, but not her bra. It looked like she was getting ready for bed. Another photo—this one entirely nude. She was in the bathroom, just getting out of the shower.
Cameron’s blood boiled. Goddamn pervert, she thought. Hernando must have been sneaking around her cabin, sticking his phone up to the windows to catch shots of her. He probably took them back to his bed and … well. Cameron had never experienced anything like this. Her pulse thundered in her ears. She wished Hernando was still alive so she could beat the snot out of him.
She scrolled to another photo. But this one was just a shot of the forest, and the mountains looming above them. It was peaceful. Beautiful.
Too beautiful.
Cameron blinked, trying to understand. Why did this photo look out of place? Finally she got it. It was too high quality. She couldn’t believe it had been taken on a phone. After a moment’s thought, she scrolled back. To the pictures from the bedroom, the bathroom.
Yes. It was the same. The focus was too sharp, the lighting too good. There was no grain in the photos at all. And … and she couldn’t be sure, but it was like the pictures had been taken on a really long lens. Way longer than a phone. Even the most modern smartphones didn’t take pictures this good.
Cameron’s head came up, and she stared at nothing. The phone almost fell from her hand, forgotten.
Phones didn’t take pictures this good. But cameras did.
Cameras like Wade’s.
Her hands clenched to fists.
Wade had been taking pictures of her like a dirty peeping Tom. Hernando must have seen him doing it, or become suspicious for some reason. He didn’t steal Wade’s camera because he actually wanted the camera. He was trying to get evidence of what Wade had been doing.
Then Cameron had come after him. And when he saw how quick she was to judge him, Hernando shut down. How could she have been so stupid? He’d been trying to help, and she’d rushed to judgement. Ju
st the way Hernando said she had.
What then? Wade must have known Hernando stole the photos. And he killed him. It wasn’t self-defense after all.
And Bettie? She’d had the phone. It wasn’t locked. She’d found the photos—only earlier that day—and she’d immediately rushed out to find Cameron.
But she’d died.
Or been killed.
The time when Wade was lost for a moment. Bettie found him, or he found her. Knowing Bettie, she’d probably confronted him with what she’d learned. And Wade had made sure she’d never reveal it.
Cameron threw the phone into the cushions of her couch and rushed for the front door. But she paused before going outside. She ran into the basement and grabbed one more thing, shoving it into the back of her waistband. Then she threw on a jacket and ran out into the night, making for Wade’s cabin.
* * *
She found him just as he was throwing his bags into the car.
The lights were on inside Wade’s truck, but he hadn’t started the engine yet. No doubt he didn’t want anyone else to hear it, didn’t want them to have any warning before he tried to flee the cabin community forever. Had he guessed that Cameron would figure out what was going on? Or was the weight of two corpses just too much for him? Either way, Cameron had no intention of letting him get away with what he’d done.
“Wade.”
He froze, leaning halfway through the back passenger door. Slowly he withdrew and straightened up. He turned to her—and he winked. He winked.
Motherfucker.
“Cam,” he said. “What’s up?”
“Cut the crap. I found Hernando’s phone.”
Wade frowned. “Okay.”
“He had the photos.”
The frown vanished. Wade’s face went deadpan. Emotionless.
“Yeah. That makes sense.”
“You bastard. It was … they were pictures. Yeah, it’s fucked up and you’re a goddamn creep. But were they really worth killing people over?”
Wade rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Get real, Cameron. Who cares? You’re smarter than this. The world’s changed, and it’s never going back. I wanted something, and when I tried to get it, people got in my way. So I took care of them.”
“You wanted something? What about what Bettie wanted? What Hernando wanted?”
He shrugged. “The new world isn’t a democracy. Your big problem is that you keep trying to pretend that’s not true.”
With a little toss of his fingers, he closed the car door and made for the driver’s seat. But Cameron darted forward, placing herself in front of him.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
Wade sighed. “Come on, Cameron. Best thing now is to just let me go. I’m not stupid. I know I can’t stay here. But you don’t want to kill me, and you can’t keep me around. What, you’re going to … what? Imprison me? Put me on work detail? Sorry. Not interested. I’m out. Finding somewhere else that’s a little more friendly.”
He took a step forward. Cameron didn’t budge.
“You say you’re not interested? I don’t care. I’m not interested in you murdering my friend and just walking away.”
His eyes hardened. “Come on, Cam. We’ve sparred enough times.” He started to count off on his fingers. “I’m bigger, I’m stronger. You’re faster, but that only goes so far. I win every time I don’t decide to let you win.”
“Oh yeah?” said Cameron. “You’re talking a lot of crap for a scared little boy who just got caught trying to run away.”
Wade put his hands on his hips. A long sigh blew out through his nose as he shook his head. He looked for all the world like he was disappointed in her.
Then, without warning, he attacked.
His hand flew from nowhere, and Cameron barely blocked it. He tried another punch, and when that missed, a kick. It caught Cameron in the knee, and she almost buckled.
But she screamed with rage and launched herself at him instead, clawing for his eyes. That wasn’t a feature in their sparring matches, and it took him by surprise. Her nails raked long gashes down his cheek, and he cried out.
“Bitch!” he said, taking a step back and placing a hand on his face.
She didn’t respond. She just went for him again. But this time he blocked her swipe, and then his fist hit her in the gut. He didn’t pull the punch either. Cameron fell to one knee, gasping, but she still had enough presence of mind to block the knee he sent flying toward her face. It put her at the perfect position to punch him in the balls, and she did. He saw it at the last second and jumped back to soften the blow, but it connected. He took two stumbling steps back, wheezing.
“Okay, fuck this,” he snarled. His hand went to the back of his belt and came back with a knife. There was a snikt as he flipped it open.
Cameron smiled. “You were wrong, Wade. I do want to kill you. So thank you.”
Her hand went to the back of her belt just like his had. But hers came back with a gun. She flipped off the safety and squeezed the trigger twice.
Wade fell to the ground, gasping and clutching at the holes in his chest. Cameron did her best not to enjoy the sound as his last breath wheezed out of him. And then it was over.
CHAPTER 35
Alex couldn’t tell if it was the day after the school, or the day after that. His thoughts swam. His vision had gone blurry. He was slumping in his saddle. He thought he’d stopped bleeding from the wound in his stomach, but he couldn’t be sure. It seemed like a terrible idea to pull off his bandages and check. If he wasn’t going to die already, that would surely seal the deal.
Storms had struck again as they left Wenatchee. Snow had come thick and hard, the same dinner-plate-sized snowflakes slamming into each other on wind currents. Max struggled through drifts that were almost above his head. The weather had battered Alex and Piper and the horses, but Alex had refused to stop. Stopping would lead to rest, which would lead to sleep, which might lead to never waking up again. And they weren’t home yet.
Not that he really expected to get home. Not anymore.
Even without opening the bandages to check his wound, he could feel his life slipping away. It flowed from him with the blood. How many guys took a knife in the gut and lived through it, even before the world had gone all to hell? Not many. Stomach wounds were the worst type to get. It was amazing he’d lasted as long as he had. That told him the real vitals hadn’t been hit—gall bladder, spleen, kidneys. But something was deeply wrong inside him. He didn’t need to have Cameron’s medical training to know that.
The horses had stopped. When had they stopped?
Alex lifted his head. They were in the mountains. Not far in, with the land still rising up and up before them. They’d just passed Leavenworth. Alex hadn’t even tried to take them on a side road around the town. If someone saw them and wanted to kill them, they would. But Alex had faced up to one fact: he wasn’t going to make it to the cabins. The only thing he could—the last thing he could do—was get as far as possible, and hope that Piper could carry on the rest of the way by herself.
“Dad?”
Piper’s voice brought him back to the moment. His thoughts kept wandering. Was that shock? Shock did that, but he’d always thought shock was a more sudden thing. Damn it, he knew what shock was. Part of park ranger training. But it was drifting away along with the rest of the thoughts in his head.
Thoughts drifting. He turned to Piper. “What, honey?”
Her eyes were wide, her face pale. Was she pale because of how little sun they’d been getting recently? Or was it fear.
Definitely fear. He could see it in her expression. She might not have known how close he was to collapsing, but she knew he wasn’t all right.
Thoughts drifting.
“I … I thought you stopped.” Alex shook his head. “Sorry. We should keep going.”
Piper looked back down the road. They weren’t half a mile out from the town, and the last few western houses were in view—though they were part
ially buried in snow. “Maybe we should stop. Someone in the town can help. They can … they can help you with the—”
“No. Gotta keep going. We should reach the cabins tonight.” A lie, but he hoped she wouldn’t guess that. “Mom can help me.”
“Dad, it is night. Or, it almost is.”
He looked up again. Behind all the clouds, the sky was darker than normal. If he’d been able to rise up into the sky, up above the clouds, he’d likely see the sun sliding behind the edge of the world. What a sight that would be. It was one of his favorite things on plane trips. Like the trip he’d taken with Piper, going to New York. Just a few days ago, really! Or, weeks. But weeks were just multiples of days.
God damn it, he had to get a grip on his thoughts. He tried, focusing hard, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose.
Suddenly he was on the ground.
“Dad!”
The impact of his fall jarred the wound in his stomach, and he gasped as he looked up at the horse. It bounced on its hooves, backing away from him nervously. He hadn’t meant to get off the saddle. Get off, hell, he thought. He’d just slid off. Like … like his legs weren’t working any more.
He tried to move one. A toe wiggled in his boot. Phew. That was a relief.
Piper was on the ground, kneeling by his head. She lifted him up, and he felt a wetness in his hair. Blood? Had he struck his head when he landed?
“No, you idiot,” he mumbled. “It’s snow.” Then he realized he hadn’t meant to speak out loud.
It didn’t seem to matter to Piper, who ignored his words. “Dad. Dad! Can you get up? You need to get back on the horse.”
“Can’t,” he muttered. It was true. He couldn’t even move his arms. “Can’t get up. Definitely can’t climb up on a horse.”
“You have to!” she cried. Tears sprang to her eyes, sliding down her cheeks.
“No, you have to … you have to keep riding.”
She ignored that, too, and pulled on his shoulders. “Come on. Just get up. I’ll help you get back up. We’ll go back to Leavenworth.”
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