hands down on Woody’s chest, trying to breathe life into Woody’s slack mouth even though anyone can see from the vacant, fixed stare on Woody’s face that he’s gone. With his sweat-drenched face, and ooze coming from his mouth, he looks like he has drowned on dry land.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Harmon keeps administering CPR long after it’s obvious there’s no use. I want to tell him to stop, but I know Harmon; he has to do something. He’ll do this until the EMTs arrive. I look up to ask the crowd if anyone has called 911—and see him.
He’s leaning in the doorway to the balcony—of course, I think, he was manning the lights—arms crossed over his broad chest, looking straight at me. Luther. A spark ignites inside me, like a small electrical fire caused by a faulty wire, as our eyes meet. He smiles. The ease of it infuriates me. Then he turns and walks out the front door.
I am up and following him before I know that I mean to, drawn by that slow easy smile as if by a leash. I follow him out the door into the night. He’s standing on the edge of the woods, his white shirt glowing in the moonlight, lighting a cigarette. When he sees me he shakes out the match, tosses it to the ground, and walks into the woods. He’s taunting me, daring me to follow him. I’m shaking, but it’s no longer with anger; it’s with fear. The monster who stalks my nightmares is here and, as in a nightmare, I am being drawn forward into the last place I should go.
I won’t go. I’ll call Kevin Bantree. I take out my phone—
But what if Luther’s gone by the time he gets here? What if this is my only chance to get Luther to admit to killing Lila? What if this is my last chance to save Rudy and Harmon?
Instead of calling the police I set the voice memo to record.
Then I follow Luther into the woods. Even without the glimpses of his white shirt I’d know how to follow him. The path he’s taken leads to Warden House. He’s taking me to the clearing where we used to have our bonfires, where Luther told his stories to a circle of enraptured girls. Girls, he once told me, are so easy to scare.
When I emerge into the clearing, he’s lounging on one of the stones in the circle, his long legs stretched out in front of him. “Tess,” he says, as if it’s been twelve minutes instead of twelve years since we’ve seen each other last. “I was hoping you’d come. We have a lot to talk about.”
“Yes,” I say, sitting down on the stone next to him. Being so close to him makes my skin crawl but I want to make sure the phone picks up his voice. “You must be satisfied seeing Woody destroyed.”
He shrugs. “Aren’t you? He was a pompous old ass and he was horrible to you. Or have you forgotten?”
“I haven’t forgotten anything,” I say. “But I didn’t want him dead.”
“Me neither,” he says, grounding his cigarette out under the heel of his boot. “It’s too good for him. He should have to account for his sins, watch his reputation crumble.”
“Is that why you’re here? To exact revenge?”
He shakes his head. He doesn’t wear his hair as long as he used to but it’s still full enough to fall over his brow in the same silky waves I love on Rudy. I notice glints of silver in the moonlight. Otherwise he doesn’t seem to have aged at all. “All I did was show that girl Cora Rockwell’s diary.”
“Lila? You met with her?” I ask.
“She responded to a post I wrote on a local history site and started following me on Twitter. We started talking online and she asked me for help on her research project. All I did was tell her about Cora’s diary and suggest she go to the Rockwell House in Portland. I’ve been doing research there. After the island I went back to grad school and finished my doctorate.” He must see my surprise. “What did you think, Tess? That I was moping around mourning for you all these years? Yeah, it was a shock to have the mother of my child try to kill me, but in a way you did me a favor. Your departure was a wake-up call. I knew I had to get my life together if I ever wanted