He is silent for a moment. Then he says, reluctantly, “I admit that Becca was partially because I saw you and Parker kissing that night. I had to follow you. Had to know if I was getting through to you.”
“Stop,” I say.
“Fuck, Lana.” He tilts his square chin high, defying me. “You free that eagle for me, and then you kiss him up there for the whole island to see. I lost my temper.”
“I mean it, shut up,” I say louder.
He does shut up. The line of his mouth blurs as he holds the admission in. He starts up again as a whisper. “I almost jumped Josh. Except that wasn’t what this was about. Maggie had gotten you to focus. Ford had it coming, and it was the revenge you deserved. You hadn’t come to look for the album, which meant you hadn’t found the note, which meant you hadn’t searched my room. I couldn’t make it easy; you had to be the hero tracking down the villain for this to work. You needed a more obvious connection to our stories. I needed the victim to deserve it—and she did—and you needed it to be someone you would fight for. Becca was the obvious choice.”
I try to force the pieces to snap into place so that an alternative explanation takes shape. So that I do not have to believe what Ben is confessing to.
“You’d tell the cops that Becca’s murder was identical to a story I’d told. They’d rattle Diane until she spilled about my grandfather and his stories and house of horrors. Or you’d find the note, hunt down the album that was always just waiting for you in the cabin, and demand the truth from her. Your trail, the cops’ trail, they’d both lead back to him. And he was a phantom.”
An alternative explanation isn’t coming together. But one unlikelihood occurs to me. “I could have been hurt in the cabin fire. You would never hurt me.”
He shakes his head adamantly. “I put the photo album by the door. You hardly needed to go inside. I didn’t think you’d bring all of them with you. I only needed the fire as a distraction so I could get away. I knew you’d go for it. The way you looked running through the trees toward it . . . you were amazing.”
“I might never have found that place.”
“You knew right where to look. We explored those cabins together. It was near the spring where Maggie died. If you hadn’t found it, I would have figured something else out. I’m not saying the plan was flawless. It evolved. It was a moving target.”
I want to slip into the water below; make myself scarce and invisible. If there is less of me to listen, there will be less of me that knows what Ben has done. “You killed three people.”
“It saved you.” His profile is silhouetted against the lantern. He’s still exquisite. “I’d do it again and again to bring you back.”
“You killed two innocent little dogs. You killed birds. How could you be capable of all that?” I tangle my hands in my hair and pull. “How could you say you did it for me? It’s hateful. Becca, Ford, and Maggie were people. Becca had friends. She had a mother who’s alone now. Maggie and Ford might have grown up to become decent people,” I say. “You ended their lives.”
“They were villains,” he says emphatically. “The hero kills the villains. And those kids you’ve been bashing around with? You think I didn’t see them at parties or at school? You think I don’t know Carolynn Winters or Rusty Pipe or Duncan Alvarez? Becca, Ford, and Maggie were cruel to you. They went first. Maybe I should have picked Carolynn? Or Parker?”
“Josh never did anything to me.”
“You had it bad for him for years and he didn’t know you existed until . . . until . . .”
“Until what? Until your murder was spooky and people were whispering about it? Until the tragedy reflected on me and made me more interesting to them?”
“You said it, not me. I didn’t want to hurt you. None of this was to hurt you.”
He reaches for me. I slap his hand away. “What about Fitzgerald? Was this supposed to hurt him?” I yell. “He’s being charged with four murders.”
“I told you. He was only to buy me time. He knows everything. He hates this place. They’ve treated him like an animal. Worse. I was kind to