Baited (15 page)

Her Chris was gone.

He continued, face darkening with memory. “Duffy was easy. Everyone was sleeping then, too, but I heard something outside. When I looked, Duffy was coming up the slope, slipping and sliding like the gorilla he was.”

Kat just tried to keep from imagining the scenario; she couldn’t stand to admit that it was possible for Chris to think this way. Had he been projecting his own fears and ugliness onto Duffy’s face, warping the other guy’s cries for help into accusations that had made Chris angrier with each scream? She didn’t dare ask.

Chris pretended he was holding his weapon again, teeth gritted. “I’d taken the diving knife. No one knew. For the animals, you know? To protect me and Gramps. But I used it on Duffy. It was like that jerk was still teasing me and holding me over the side of the boat, even after I stabbed him. Then I remembered the conversation about the masks. It felt good to shut Duffy up and get the last word…But then I had to put mud on him to hide his true face.”

After a short burst of nervousness crossed his ex
pression, he shook his fist in a flurry of pantomimed cuts, capped by an angry choke of quivering rage.

Threatened, Kat pushed herself a little higher up, muscles straining as her blood ran fast and cold.

“After that,” Chris said, coming to a sudden, sharp stop, his shaking hands useless, “I wanted to leave the shelter so bad. Just looking at that family’s faces was scaring me. That’s when I asked you to take us to the captain’s place.”

Duke. This was going to kill him. “That’s where you attacked your gramps?” she ground out, overcome with sadness for her sick friend.

At Chris’s widened stare, a pressurized pause, Kat prepared to defend herself, to grab the knife that was sticking out of the ground between them if she had to.

“Yeah. That’s where I attacked him.”

No, Chris
. No.

“Why would you want to kill Duke if you were protecting him?”

His face screwed up again, and he glared at the ground. “I just wanted to frame Captain Ashton. Gramps wasn’t stabbed anyplace that would kill him, all right? It didn’t hurt him so much. He didn’t even realize I was the one who threw the knife from across the shelter to make it seem like it came from outside. He was resting with his eyes closed so he never knew any better.”

Lay off, her common sense warned. Don’t push him.

As if trying to outrun the thought of hurting his grandfather, Chris absently picked at his shirt. His breathing increased in speed.

“And what came next?” she said, needing Chris to talk and give her more time to get to her feet.

He stopped his fidgeting. But that left him confused and not knowing what to do with his hands. “I lucked out with Alexandra. Everyone was running from that boar. Gramps and I found a hiding place outside where we could see the shelter. We stayed there, even after we heard the boar go into the cave tunnels. We wanted to make sure it was gone before we went back into the shelter. Alexandra wandered in first, though, and I gave Gramps the club to defend himself while I checked to see what was happening. He was so out of it that I doubt he even knew what was happening. It was the first time I was alone with Alexandra, and I asked her to apologize.” Chris shoved his finger in Kat’s direction, speaking through his teeth now. “I gave her a chance, but she
laughed
at me, said she had nothing to be sorry for, but I’d heard her that night when she’d said that they should put poison in one of Gramps’s drinks. It was a clean way to go, she said, and that was so like her. Never mess up that pretty face, never break a nail. So I made her true, ugly face come out.”

Bile stung the back of Kat’s throat as she recalled the woman’s mutilated features.

“I washed myself in the rain like I did with Duffy,” Chris said, “then I went back to Gramps. Captain Ashton found us after that. Then everyone made like he was the killer.” Chris chanced a smile at Kat. “But I knew you wouldn’t let the captain get hurt. You’d protect him until I could finish what I needed to.”

Chris had really thought everything out. No one ever gave him enough credit, she’d told him before.

Everyone sure as hell would now.

“Tell me about Eloise,” she whispered.

He continued staring at her with that hopeful smile, rushing to please her with an explanation. “After Larry fell asleep, I followed you out to the bathroom. When you started back, I held my hand over Aunt Eloise’s mouth and took her away. The rain was noisy, and she wasn’t very strong. She ended up apologizing to me, though.” Chris paused, his words getting sharper. “But I didn’t believe her—because she was always
crying
and
manipulating
everyone with her tears. She did that to Gramps a lot, being happy to see him one second, and sad the next. Then you came to look for her. And I thought you saw me, too. And when you came back to the shelter, I thought you’d call me out.”

She thought about how rattled he’d been at her return, but, in truth,
everyone
had been. “How did you sneak back into the group, Chris?”

His face reddened. “I managed.”

Kat waited.

He could obviously tell she wasn’t happy with his answer, and he bristled. “With all the craziness, I blended back into the group, okay? Everyone was outside getting wet. I had a dark shirt to hide the blood and I used the rain to wash the rest of it from my hands.”

“Okay,” she said, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Just sit down and tell me what’s next, all right?”

“Nestor’s next.”

She stiffened. The knife, she thought, keeping it in her sights. I need that knife to stop Chris, to protect him from himself this time.

The birds around kept calling to each other and the sun shone even brighter. The forest was coming alive, but, inside Kat, all the innocence had withered away.

“Chris,” she said, throat stinging. She lowered her head, finally losing her bravado.

Bounding over to her in obvious relief, Chris clung to her. Just as he’d always done. “Why’re you sad for them? Everything’s okay.”

She wanted to throw him off her. Wanted to get back the kid she’d adored. “It’s not just them. I’m sad for you, too.”

“Why?”

“Because when you get caught—”

He held her tighter. “I
won’t
.”

She detected the metallic remnant scent of blood on his neck, even through her stuffed-up nose. Or maybe she was imagining it. Her stomach seized.

“Are you going to talk to Gramps about this?” he asked, sounding cautious.

How could she
not
tell Duke? Chris was talking like he’d taken the car out for a joyride.

“Shouldn’t I?” She held him to her, looking over his shoulder and eyeing the knife that was only a foot away.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw something white and stealthy creeping out of the bushes.

Will. And he was holding a kitchen knife.

No, go back. Get away before Chris senses a threat, before you disturb this peace we’ve got going.

But he kept limping toward them, no matter how much Kat tried to signal with her eyes.

Chris drew back from her a little, his brows knitted together. “When you talk to Gramps—”

The snap of a twig echoed like a gunshot.

Going stiff, Chris flew around, eyes wide and feral. A killer again.

He dove toward the knife.

But Kat had already done the same thing.

They stared at each other, her hand covering his on the grip. Even though she’d gotten there too late, she shook her head, telling him to back off, showing him how much it tore her apart to be his enemy.

She could see his heart breaking like a wave crashing and dying to foam as he realized that she’d use that knife against him.

Kat? he seemed to be asking in his eyes. I thought you might understand. I thought you loved Duke, too.

And she did—just not in the way either of them wanted her to.

The spell was shattered when Will lunged for Chris. Dodging, the teen yanked the knife out of the mud, yelling and kicking Kat away from him, rolling over the ground.

Kat struggled to her feet. Will had cornered Chris, but the teen was too quick. Flash-fast, his blade darted up, jamming into Will’s shoulder. As Will reared back, howling, the teen pulled out his own weapon, stumbling backward then turning to run.

He broke through the bushes, never even looking back at the friend he’d destroyed.

B
ack at the caves, the unexpected waited for them.

“A ship!” Nestor the not-so-innocent said as soon as Kat helped a bleeding Will into the shelter. The last remaining Delacroix was pointing at the beach, where there really
was
a black dot on the horizon. “Look, there’s a ship out there!”

For a beautiful instant, Kat’s shock over what she’d been through was forgotten.
Rescue,
she thought as she and Will peered at the ocean together.

An end to all this.

But it didn’t take more than a split second for reality to pull back over them.

As Kat shot Nestor a lethal glare, she eased Will to the ground. She began searching for the first aid kit,
although she knew there was no antibacterial ointment left to dress his shoulder wound.

Dr. Hopkins was standing next to her bed buddy, arms crossed over her chest. The hand bandages were gone. “We’re here to surrender, if that’s what you want to call it.”

Nestor held out his palms, like he was expecting the rope again. He didn’t realize it still bound the body of Louis.

“I knew,” Nestor said, “that we’d see each other on the ship anyway, so Janelle and I came back for a truce.”

“Why’d you do it,
Janelle?
” Kat asked, battling a cough. “You took a big chance for a piece of ass.”

Much to Kat’s shock, Dr. Hopkins glanced at Nestor with something pretty damned close to affection. Kat shook her head but didn’t comment. She felt the same way about Will, didn’t she? But the difference was that Dr. Hopkins had trusted Nestor enough to rescue him, not tie him up.

Trying to make up for that, Kat staunched Will’s bleeding, then tenderly settled him amongst the life jackets. “Janelle ended up saving your life, Nestor, so I’m going to cut to the chase because getting on your case again doesn’t matter right now.”

The sound of someone throwing up outside the shelter caught her attention. Duke? Is that where he’d been? Just outside?

With dread, Kat hurried toward the sound, picking up a wooden club along the way for insurance. “Will, just tell them about Chris. Then we’ve got to get a signal fire going.”

“Wait—” Will started, but she was already gone.

So much to take care of. And Chris was out there, waiting, willing to strike at whoever got in his way.

Holding back a wave of biting sorrow, Kat found Duke on his hands and knees vomiting dark blood. His whole body was shuddering. She glanced at him for a second, taking him in. Then she backtracked and grabbed a cup of rainwater.

Just stay strong, Kat.

“Here,” she said as he crashed to the ground. She got him comfortable and led the cup to his lips as best as she could with her hand injuries.

While he washed out his mouth and cleaned himself up, Kat’s chest shook with coughs. She couldn’t stop staring. Duke’s eyes—once so warm and cheery—were like sunken holes. His skin looked like a faded newspaper left soaking in the gutter. His hands trembled, and he dropped the cup. He’d disintegrated so fast.

“So,” Duke rasped. His smile shook, but it was a noble effort. He talked slowly. “Why don’t…we go out on the town tonight? Me in my tux…you in a lovely dress?”

He was lucid today, if romantic, like they were back on a San Diego beach, the sunset coating the waves as they chatted and laughed together. That was before Duffy had broken her illusions about what Duke really wanted from her, before Duke had told her how he felt.

“We’ve got a lot to talk about,” she said softly. “And I don’t know how to start.”

“Well, if it’s a…profession of how much you adore me…I understand. No woman…could resist me in this state.”

He seemed so keenly embarrassed to have Kat seeing him at his most ruined. Obviously, he had no idea about the bombshell she was about to drop on him. She even had the terrible feeling that he was expecting her to answer his own previous declaration of love.

But the old Duke steamrolled over the tension, clearly noticing how she felt. “We’ve gone through…hell these past couple of days…haven’t we? And I just want you to know…Kat, I’m so damned proud of you.”

Her heart fell.

“I’m dead serious,” he added. “More than…anyone, you’ve stood up and faced…what’s going on. You…can do anything…not that I didn’t know it before—”

A bout of gagging interrupted him, and Kat rubbed his back, affectionately stroked his face. Seeing the return of the man she’d adored saddened her.

Meanwhile, the others came out of the shelter, armed with everything they had: a couple of steak knives and wooden clubs. They also carried all the dry items they had.

“Fire,” Will said with a tight mouth. “And we’ve got the mirror to signal, too.”

He looked so pale as he stumbled along, his load pressing against the knife wound. Kat wanted to carry him herself.

“The mirror from the cosmetic bag?” she asked.

Will held it up, limping away, clearly making a studied effort not to see her with Duke.

She helped the frail man to his feet, then shouldered the burden of his weight as they got behind Dr. Hopkins, who said, “We balanced the need for signals against the threat of Chris. The signals won out.”

“Chris?” Duke wheezed.

Kat and Duke had already fallen behind, giving them privacy. She took a big breath, stopped their progress for a moment as she carefully stroked his face.

“Chris is the killer.”

With a gape, then a cry, Duke stumbled, and Kat fought to hold him, dropping her club. He absorbed the news, denying it, saying anything to convince her she was wrong.

But they just had no time for this. No time.

She tried to drag a decrepit Duke along as she told him about catching Chris with Louis then listening to all his confessions. As she finished they reached the beach, where Nestor and Dr. Hopkins were already setting up. A pale Will rested on the sand, club all but forgotten as he applied more pressure to his wound. She settled Duke next to him and dropped down her own exhausted body, coughing.

Watching Nestor collect tinder, Kat wondered if guarding him against Chris was even in the best interests of karma. He was no prime example of humanity, with his plots against Duke. She even resented that he’d put them in this danger.

Peering around, she shuddered, feeling Chris’s
eyes on them from…somewhere. Behind a tree, back at the shelter.

Hiding and biding his time.

Keeping an eye on Duke, Kat worked on catching the sun’s rays in the mirror, hoping to light the scrub. It caught, and after blowing it alive, she transferred it to a stick, to the stack of wood.

“Duke?” she asked, wishing he’d unball himself, show her he was willing to survive in spite of everything.

“Yes.” His voice was soft. He stared at the ocean and held his thigh where Chris had stabbed him.

Her heart bled from his loss. “Chris never meant to hurt you. That was his last wish.”

Will grunted from where he was now using the mirror to SOS the approaching ship. “Yeah, I’ll bet Chris has the best intentions every time he sticks a blade into someone.”

Duke’s face melted into an expression of pure sadness. “Chris didn’t stab me.
I
put that knife in my leg.”

Kat’s vision exploded, everything breaking into a million pieces that could never, ever fit together again. In a haze, she rose to her feet, playing Duke’s words through her mind because she must have misunderstood.

But Duke merely shriveled inward, looking like he was willing himself to finally die.

“What did you say?” Kat took a tentative step closer. “What the
hell
did you just say?”

He didn’t answer. A chunk of realization crashed together in her mind. “Was Chris lying to protect you while you protected him with an alibi? Or—”

“Yes.”

The fire crackled behind her, echoing her mounting fury. Ridiculously, she said, “Do you realize that Will took the fall because of what you did?”

Everyone else was starting to gather near, just as confused as Kat was.

“
Will
,” Duke spat. Oddly, he sounded much stronger now. “The first thing you think of is
Will
.”

Her body warmed at the truth, even while she braced against Duke’s betrayal. In his face, she was seeing a pattern.

Fear opened a cold hole in her chest. Chris had been right never to look at their faces.

Duke battled to sit up, then lost. He reached a hand toward Kat, but she took an emphatic step back, unwilling to help him anymore.

Stunned, he lowered his hand, his next words ragged. “Understand…Chris is the most sensitive child you’ll ever meet. He feels…profoundly…when someone hurts him or when he does it to someone in return.”

Anger, horror, disbelief made her blanch.

Nestor growled, then flew at Duke, teeth bared. Dr. Hopkins fought to hold him back.

“He’s just an old man,” she yelled.

Nestor wasn’t having any of that as he resisted. Will rushed over to help.

“Chris
murdered
my family!” Nestor screamed.

Now the fire was roaring, heat licking at Kat as she held
herself
back. But what kind of threat was Duke now? She wanted to hear him confess…hear
all
of the ways he’d betrayed them.

At Nestor’s outburst, Duke had reddened. “I can take care of Chris, Nestor. I always have.”

The livid grandson went at Duke again, but Dr. Hopkins muttered something to him that sounded like “money.” With cursing difficulty, he broke away from the doctor and Will and began pacing in the sand.

But Kat didn’t stay back. No, she got to all fours, wanting Duke to look her in the eye, intimidating him.

“What do you mean you’ll
take care of
Chris?”

Duke furrowed his forehead in pain, or maybe it was fruitless rage, or maybe…both. Brain tumor, she thought. And no meds to control the effects of it.

“I’ve…tried my best,” Duke finally said, phrasing everything with disjointed deliberation. A sigh slipped out of him. “I wanted to…protect him, as much as he did me. And I did…for years and years. You have to understand…he’s not a bad boy. If I tell you about him…I think you’ll understand. You’ll see why we can’t…tell anyone what happened on this…island.”

“What the—” Nestor began before Will held a finger up at the younger man, warning him to listen.

Kat’s love and admiration built for him again. He was still a captain to the end.

“Chris was scarred.” Duke sent them all a pleading gaze. “When he was little, he had a…nanny who started abusing him, without anyone’s knowledge…for years. While Chris was alone…at home with her, she would…deprive him…of meals. Taunt him. Take pleasure in telling him ‘no, you can’t have this.’ She did things that didn’t leave marks on the outside…in a lot
of instances. Sexual…physical…but she knew how to avoid getting caught.”

Kat blocked out the thought of it. Bullied. Beyond bullied.

But then she dredged up the images of the victims’ patterned faces. Those chased away any potential sympathy for the devil that’d taken Chris over.

Duke focused on Kat, sensing her momentary identification with his beloved grandson. “I admit…I coddled him. I felt guilty…for not seeing what was happening. My son and his wife…did the same thing. We gave Chris the world to make up for…what happened.”

Nestor had picked up a stone. Staring at his grandfather, he weighed it, his gaze cold. “Coddled? Understatement. You made Chris believe that the world was his to own. You raised his dad and mom that same way, and that spread to the whole family. But, mostly, it was Chris, especially after Ephram and Christina died in that fire.” Here, his voice cracked. “But we
all
felt for Chris and wanted to help him.”

At the mention of the fire, Duke started retching, dark blood leaking out of his mouth. It was like the comment had wrenched him open…An ugly realization took hold of Kat.

“Chris didn’t…?” she asked.

The old man spat up a little more, pain haunting his muddled eyes as he wiped at his mouth.

All she could hear was her own labored breathing. Chris’s parents. The son and daughter-in-law Duke wouldn’t talk about.

An impotent anger filtered over Duke’s aged face.
“When Chris was ten, he had…a cat. He…” Duke grimaced. “He tied it up…‘experimented.’ To see if it could…take as much pain as he’d…taken from his nanny.”

Nestor fell to his knees, mouth agape in horror.

A chill tore over Kat’s skin. She glanced around at the trees, the bushes. Eyes seemed to be peeking out of all of them.
Never turn your back on the enemy
.

She inched closer to the old man. “More, Duke.”

He’d rolled to his back, glaring at the sky, looking like he was placing blame on something other than himself or Chris. “I tried to make Ephram and Christina…understand…why he’d done it. I really did. I couldn’t watch him…suffer alone. Not when I could’ve…stopped what happened to him with that nanny. I should’ve seen…what he was going through. I owed Chris so…much. But then they sent him away…to some ‘behavior camp.’ He couldn’t stand to be away from me…so he took it out on his parents.”

“
He
set their house on fire with them in it,” Nestor said, palming the rock against the sand.

“I screamed, flailed around for answers…that weren’t so easy to find. But I knew Chris had only done it…out of love for me. He couldn’t stand…to stay away, to be told…not to see me again. How could I punish him…for that?”

Kat felt like she was dangling, about to lose her grip on what she knew of right and wrong. Twisted. She shouldn’t be feeling sorry for Chris.

She hated being manipulated by this story, hated that Duke was justifying the killings. Was his judgment so
bent from his disease? Or was Duke making sure that Chris could be redeemed just as he had—a man who’d messed up his own life with all the drinking and hell-raising?

Duke’s carousing had contributed to his stomach cancer—a little reward he hadn’t banked on. Did Duke want to give Chris the chance to avoid an ultimate punishment for
his
sins? Even though it was too late to redeem the magnitude of Chris’s much worse crimes?