Page 239 of Secrets Along the Shore
The dog sniffed and barked in the same moment I shouted, “Evan!”
I dropped beside him, rolling him over. His skin was scorched but his chest moved.
The dog whimpered and licked Evan’s face. He stirred.
“Becca,” he rasped. “Becca did this. Knocked me out. Then cameback and locked me up here. I’ve been banging for you to help me. But you couldn’t hear me. She’s dangerous. She’s going to kill you.”
“I know,” I whispered, helping him sip from my water bottle. I hadn’t wanted to believe my old friend was capable, but I couldn’t deny it any longer. “We have to get out of here. But, Evan, there’s no way down.”
Evan shook his head weakly. “There is. A back stairway. Scanlon had it built to escape. I found it the night Becca attacked me…in the basement. She hit me with a crowbar.”
I blinked. “She likes that crowbar.”
“She used it on Livvie too.”
I froze. “What? Are you telling me she killed her sister?”
Evan nodded. “She… Becca killed an animal when Livvie was a kid. Livvie saw it. It traumatized her. That’s why Livvie stopped speaking. Why she blocked out people and stopped hearing.”
My stomach twisted. I thought I was going to vomit.
“Livvie grew stronger because of you,” Evan said. “She wanted to help you. She was going to the police. Becca found out.”
“She killed her sister…”
“She’ll kill again,” he coughed. “Anyone who knows the truth.”
“Sheriff McNealy knows now too.”
“Then she’ll come for him next,” he said.
I slung Evan’s arm around my shoulder. We staggered toward the back of the attic. The heat was unbearable. Smoke stung my eyes, but he pointed out the sliding panel that led to a tight stairwell.
Of course Scanlon would have built this. The man lived in paranoia about being caught in his evil deeds.
Wooden stairs. Old and narrow. And dark. I pushed through, needing to get Evan down, step by step, until we emerged in the basement.
The dog scrambled ahead, wagging his tail at the hatchway.
I pushed it open—and fresh air and sunlight rushed in like a flood. We climbed out into the grass, coughing and trying to see through bleary eyes.
And Becca was waiting.
She stood ten feet away, her face pale, a crowbar dangling from her hand.
“You ruined everything,” she snarled. “You were always in the way. Livvie was mine. My sister. Not yours. If you’d never come here, none of this would’ve happened.”
“You killed her,” I said. “And now you want to kill us. Because we know who you really are. All this to protect Nathan? You don’t think he really loves you, do you? Has he even come to see you in fifteen years? I think you were telling the truth when you said you hadn’t seen him since that night. He used you. You’re just another pawn in the Scanlon legacy.”
“It’s all your fault! You made me kill her. I had no choice!” She screamed and charged straight at me, crowbar over her head.
I braced for impact—just as the sheriff and his deputies ran out from around the trees, guns drawn.
“Becca! Drop the weapon!” Sheriff McNealy shouted.
She froze, the crowbar still raised.
“I heard it all,” he said. “Put the crowbar down.”
