Page 85 of Five Survive

“No!” Arthur said, struggling against Oliver’s iron grip.

“Sold drugs to someone? Did someone overdose?”

“No, I’ve never hurt anyone!”

Arthur bucked, kicking against the refrigerator, pushing away.

Oliver was stronger, shoved him back, forearm pressed against Arthur’s neck.

“I’m not like that!” Arthur rasped, the wind knocked out of his chest, trapped in his pinned-down throat.

“Oliver, stop it!” Reyna screamed. But didn’t she know? She couldn’t control him anymore, no one could. He was loose and he was wild.

“Someone was killed, in Philadelphia!” Oliver roared in his face. “You must know.”

“OLIVER!”

That was Maddy. He didn’t listen to her either.

“It’s not me, we just learned that!” Oliver continued, pressing harder. Arthur’s face was turning red. “It’s not what me and Reyna did. And it’s not about the Frank Gotti case, so it’s nothing to do with me or Maddy!”

Arthur’s eyes darted across to Red, strained and in pain as he struggled against Oliver’s grip. She had to help him.

“Oliver, leave him alone!” Red shouted, daring to move forward. It was useless, Oliver wasn’t listening, too focused on Arthur’s face, inches from his.

“Just tell me what it is!” Oliver spat. “I am not dying in this fuckingRV!”

“M-my br-brother,” Arthur managed to hiss, raspy and weak.

“Your brother? Your brother fucking what?”

Arthur looked at Red again, wide and desperate.

Red needed to help him. And they had that deal, remember, the one Arthur didn’t know about; that he didn’t have to talk about his brother if she didn’t have to talk about her mom. Except, for some reason, her mom wouldn’t leave her alone tonight.

Oliver’s free hand was at his side, fingers balling into a fist, then flexing out. No.Nonono.They’d just heard what happened after Oliver punched that Jack. Jack might have hit him first, but Oliver hithim harder and that was all it took. A fatal bleed on the brain. Oliver wasn’t going to hit Arthur, was he? Then why was his thumb tucking itself under his fingers, forming a fist that stayed?

No, Red couldn’t let him. But what could she do? Oliver was the strongest, the natural leader, the highest-value. Red didn’t have the secret. This wasn’t about what happened to Jack Harvey, or the Frank Gotti case, which she knew forward and back, Oliver had just said that. It wasn’t. The voice had confirmed it: Maddy and Oliver weren’t being held hostage for the name of the witness. So what could shedo?

But that clue: someone who was killed, in Philadelphia. That fit two people Red knew of. Her mom, killed on her knees five years ago in an abandoned power station. Two shots to the back of the head. And the other, more recent, was…unless…unless this whole setup wasn’t about getting the name, like Oliver had initially thought, holding him and Maddy as hostages. What if they already had the name? No, it couldn’t be, that was the whole point, but it wasn’t impossible, was it? Oliver said it happened all the time. Which meant that—

“Oliver, stop!” Simon pulled at his shirt. “You’re choking him!”

Red had to help Arthur, she had to, his breath now wheezing through his throat in a terrifying low whistle, Oliver’s fist raising by his side. Red had to help, and now she knew how. They already had the name, didn’t they? That was it. Why hadn’t she realized sooner? Why had she blindly followed what Oliver said? Maybe she had realized, part of her, and she’d only wanted to keep it, like Oliver had with his secret. Of course. She knew it now, cold and inevitable. This was all about her. About the plan. If she gave it up now, she’d lose it all, wouldn’t she? But she had to help Arthur.

“Stop!” Red screamed, the sound tearing at her throat. “Oliver, leave him! It’s me!”

Oliver pulled back slightly, releasing Arthur’s throat. His head whipped over his shoulder and he stared at Red. “What did you say?” he demanded.

Arthur coughed, bending over as Oliver finally let go, stepping away from him.

Red looked up and breathed out. “I’m the one with the secret.”

4:00a.m.

Red blinked.

Her heart was in her throat, grotesque and swelling, cutting off her airway as she watched Oliver turn to face her, his chest rising and falling. Arthur was still bent double behind, coughing into his hands.

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