Page 32 of My Wife

But I also know one other very important thing.

He’s holding a knife in his right hand. I can’t miss that. And when he slowly lifts up his left, I can’t miss what he’s holding in that one, either.

It’s acabin key.

TWELVE

RUN

How did they get it?

I give myself two seconds—one, two—to wonder how the masked figure outside my window got the key that only Tommy had before realization slams into me. He has the key. That means the killer can get into the cabin.

They can getme.

Fuck, no.

I only agreed to stay put because Tommy assured me it would be safe. I could grab a makeshift weapon from somewhere in here, but does that mean I’m as strong as this masked killer? He has a knife.

I wish I had Chase’s gun.

I don’t. I don’t have Tommy’s switchblade, either, but you know what I do have? Two good feet and a pair of running shoes that I am so fucking grateful that I didn’t take off earlier.

I guess, deep down, I expected that the guys would find something and I’d have to dash outside at a moment’s notice. I definitely didn’t expect that I’d become the masked killer’s next victim—and I’m not planning on it, either.

The couch should buy me some time. Even if the killer opens the door with the key, he has to climb over it or move it orsomething. Unless he goes to the back, but since that’s where I’m dashing to, I really hope not.

In the horror movies, the heroine’s hands stop working right when they’re fleeing for their lives. Doors they’ve opened a million times seem to get stuck, or if you’re carrying your phone or your keys, you’re going to drop them inevitably.

Not this chick. I didn’t grab my phone, I don’t have any keys, and thank fucking God, the door unlocks easily. I turn the knob, fling it out, and jump down the three steps that lead up to the back porch before I’mflying.

I feel a teensy bit bad that I’m leaving Madison and Summer to the mercy of the killer, but as long as they were smart enough to keep their doors locked and not go off into the woods, they should be fine. I asked Tommy if all the keys were the same; after all, that would defeat their purpose. They’re not. Each key is for a different cabin, so either I was his next target—or the killer had someone else’s key and used it to spook me into fleeing.

It’s possible. I sure as hell didn’t stick around to see if the cabin key worked. Right now, I have to save my own ass. Two people are dead?—

My hands fly to my face as I burst into a copse of trees and find another broken body on the ground.

Three people are dead…

This one is worse.

I know from the faint blonde stripes in her hair that I’m looking at Summer Kaye. She’s on her belly, and from the distance, I could pretend she had passed out after a night at one of Gullhaven’s local watering holes. Summer could never hold her liquor, but she hasn’t had a sip since we’ve been on the island.

She’s also immovably still.

In the back of my mind, I hear Chase saying that I shouldn’t touch the body. That’s for the cops, and any tampering of thecrime scene could make us all look suspicious. Screw that. I’m being chased by a maniac in a mask. I need to know what I’m up against.

I should’ve listened to that little voice.

Summer is dead. Like, Iknewthat, but when I grab her hand, she’s already cool to the touch. When did I last see her? A couple of hours, at least, and she could’ve been dead nearly as long.

She’s heavy, too. I have to use both hands to grab her and flip her over, and when I do?

I regret it.

There’s a gaping hole in her throat. Anything from chest down seems untouched, except for the stray blood drops that cover her blouse. It’s clear that that’s what killed her, but while she’s clean from chest down, her eyes are wide and gaping, and her chin…

Her chin iscoatedin blood.

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