Page 36 of The Weekend Getaway

“Okay, fine!” Mia shouted. “Let’s go. Come on …”

Jason scowled. “Go … where?”

“Let’s go see where Grace supposedly saw Alex’s decapitated head,” Mia said. “Chris, you can lead the way, right?”

His eyes furtive and uncertain, Chris darted a quick glance at Jason, who now seemed reluctant, even though he'd been the one to start the foolish conversation.

“Well, what are the two of you waiting for?” Mia demanded. “You want to see if Grace was telling the truth. Let’s fucking go!”

CHAPTER 32

SARAH

The only person who could have done it … is Phil.

Grace’s words, so adamant and shocking, reverberated in Sarah’s mind, making her heart slam with panic and uncertainty. Why would Phil kill Alex? Because Alex lured him to this private island to blackmail him. Walking slowly down the wide, dimly lit hallway, Sarah sighed.

On the face of it, Phil had motive to kill Alex, but she didn’t believe Phil was capable of murder. Phil had threatened to destroy Alex, yes, but he’d wanted to ruin Alex’s life. Phil wanted Alex to suffer. Wanted him to lose everything and live the rest of his miserable existence in bitter defeat. Phil wanted Alex to experience the same type of hell he’d been forced to endure—because of Alex. Because Alex had plotted and schemed to gain an advantage which left Phil depleted and desolate.

And yet, Sarah couldn’t help wondering if Phil might have killed Alex in a crime of passion. Mia said Phil and Alex spoke. Talked things out. Made amends. Maybe that wasn’t true. Maybe they’d argued. Fought. And then maybe Phil lashed out, and … and what? Cut Alex’s head off?

It didn’t make sense.

If anything, Alex had a greater motive to get rid of Phil. The idea of being ruined, of having everything he’d schemed and scammed to get taken from him, would have sent Alex into a calculated rage. Alex was manipulative and deceptive. Sarah absolutely believed Alex was capable of killing Phil, then lying to Mia, telling her Phil had to leave the island and he had to take Phil to the mainland.

But really, Alex might have taken Phil out to sea and thrown him overboard.

Shuddering at the thought, Sarah continued down the long hallway.

Sarah couldn’t see things playing out the opposite way. Couldn’t see Phil killing Alex, then cutting his head off and leaving it in the rainforest. Mainly because when she’d left Phil’s room last night, he hadn’t been angry or vengeful. Hadn’t been spiteful or homicidal. Quite the contrary. Phil seemed … disappointed. Definitely alarmed, but not afraid. More like he was upset that Alex could sink so low …

Then again, Sarah had no idea what direction Phil’s thoughts had taken when she left. Maybe he’d contemplated to the point of anger. Maybe the more he thought about Alex’s plan, the more irate he became. Wasn’t enough that Alex had tricked his father, and currently had plans to blackmail him,but now that Alex’s scheme had been exposed, he’d decided to resort to murder. Perhaps Phil had decided to kill Alex before Alex killed him?

Sarah slowed to a stop, taking a deep breath.

Standing in front of Phil’s door, she raised her hand to knock, then hesitated. Mia had told them that Phil was gone. He’d left the island with Alex, but Sarah didn’t believe that. She couldn’t imagine why Mia had lied, but obviously because Alex had told her to. Mia didn’t have a mind of her own. She was completely controlled by Alex. For whatever reason, Alex had instructed Mia to tell them Phil was no longer on the island. Sarah knew that wasn’t true. Phil had not been angry when she’d told him about Alex’s idea to kill him, but neither had he been in a forgiving mood. She doubted the men had reached some sort of rapprochement.

Sarah closed her hand into a fist, still hesitating.

She needed to talk to Phil. Needed to find out his version of events. She wanted to know more about his conversation with Alex. What was said? How were amends made? Did they really reconcile? Or was that a lie Alex had told Mia?

Sarah knocked on the door, then waited.

When there was no answer, she knocked harder, calling out, “Phil … are you in there? It’s Sarah. Can I come in? Please? I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

When minutes passed and Phil had not responded, Sarah fought disappointment. And apprehension. Exhaling slowly, she reached for the knob, grabbed it, then twisted it, and pushed the door open. “Phil … it’s Sarah.”

The room was empty.

“Phil …” Sarah called out, wondering if he was in the bathroom. Maybe the shower. “I didn’t mean to come in without your permission but?—”

Sarah stopped, staring toward the king-sized bed in the center of the room.

Slowly, her heart slamming, she walked forward, pulse jumping with each step she took, forcing herself to continue despite the overwhelming need to flee, to turn and run, and never look back.

At the foot of the bed, Sarah gasped, horrified.

Bright sunshine glimmered through the French doors, casting golden rays across the smears of blood on the rumpled sheets.

---