New Year Island (46 page)

Camilla glanced at Juan and Jordan, leaning against the back wall, only half participating. There was no help there. It was as if Jordan had inherited Juan’s laconic personality, his silent watchfulness. She turned back to Veronica.

“Without water, we can only last three days,” Camilla said. “I think that works both ways. Unless Julian’s willing to let us die of thirst, then
he’s
only got three days, too.”

“What if Julian
is
willing to let us die?” Mason asked. “Sorry, but I think you’re being naive here. One of us got killed yesterday. Another woman got murdered last night…”—he paused—”…
probably
murdered, I mean…”

Camilla’s eyes flicked toward Veronica, who was watching Mason with her mouth pursed.

He swept a hand at the monitor screen. “…and
they
haven’t done anything about it. Try and explain
that
to me.”

“I can’t,” Camilla said. “But I think it means we need more leverage.”

What Mason said before had given her another idea. Someone in the room wasn’t going to like what she had to say next, but she didn’t know who—not just yet, anyway. She took a deep breath.

“I was wrong earlier,” she said. “We
do
have to unmask Julian’s spy. Right now. Then Julian has no way of influencing events here, and it’s over.”

She pointed at Mason. “Everyone, think about what he said. Only Julian’s spy could have known where the water was…”

Veronica shook her head impatiently. “Enough with the stupid word games.”

“The spy didn’t see where the water was hidden,” Camilla said. “The cameras did. Julian did. That means they can communicate with each other.”

She let that sink in, watching their faces.

“A working phone,” Mason said. “It makes sense.”

“It wouldn’t even have to be two-way,” she said. “The cameras let them see and hear everything that’s going on here. They would only need to be able to send instructions.”

He nodded. “Text messages.”

“I’ll go first.” Camilla walked to the front of the room.

Standing in front of the monitor reminded her too much of yesterday, when she had done the same thing during the gifting game, and what that had led to. The fight. The knife. Was this a mistake?

No, they had to do this. She took off her jacket and laid it on the ground.

“Somebody search me,” she said.

Mason’s eyes widened behind his glasses. Why was he surprised?

Oh god—Heather’s tooth!

Her stomach contracted. She could feel the awful lump in her pocket, pressing into her thigh. How could she have forgotten?

Mason started forward. “I’ll do it—”

“Not you.” Veronica’s luminous eyes cut from him to Camilla, paralyzing her, like a mouse frozen in the gaze of a snake.

She had to explain herself—
before
they found it—but she knew that Veronica wouldn’t believe her. No one would. Camilla’s breath caught. With everyone so angry and keyed up now, the true danger she had so blindly placed herself in dawned on her.

They might even think
she
had killed Heather.

Veronica’s eyes probed hers. She struggled to keep her face calm.

“Natalie,” Veronica said. “Check her.”

Camilla almost sagged with relief. She wouldn’t have Veronica’s deadly hands prodding at her. She wouldn’t have those terrible, unblinking pale eyes inches from hers, dissecting her every facial twitch.

Natalie stopped next to her, looking unsure how to begin.

“Here,” Camilla said, reaching into the other pocket for her iPhone.

“No,” Veronica commanded. “Let
her.
”

Natalie’s shy fingers plucked her phone from her jeans. With a look of concentration, she pressed the On switch, and prickles raced across the back of Camilla’s neck.

What if, after five days of dead air, it suddenly got a signal
now
?

Natalie dialed a number. Held the phone to her ear.

Camilla tensed.

“No signal,” Natalie said. She picked up Camilla’s jacket and checked its pockets. Laying it back down, she looked at Veronica.

Camilla’s pounding heart was slowing to normal. Her face tried to stretch in strange directions, to laugh, even though she knew how bad that would look.

Somehow, Natalie had missed it.Trying to hide her relief, Camilla exhaled slowly, blowing through her mouth because her broken nose was blocked.

“Check her other pocket,” Veronica said.

Oh god.

Tentative fingers probed her thigh, and Natalie pulled the folded lump of paper from her jeans.

Camilla raised her hands. “I—”

“I
knew
it. A note.” With forceful strides Veronica crossed the floor and snatched it from Natalie’s hands. “Let me see that.”

Veronica was two feet away now. Picturing those hooked thumbs punching into JT’s spurting sockets, Camilla closed her own eyes. She squeezed her legs together, fighting an overpowering urge to cringe. If she weren’t so dehydrated, she’d probably end up peeing herself right now.

It was absolutely the wrong thing to think of. An inappropriate urge to giggle seized her, and she bit the inside of her cheek to stifle it.
Don’t laugh. Don’t laugh. Oh god, don’t laugh at her—she’ll kill you.

The urge worsened.

Paper rustled. Veronica drew a sharp breath, a foot from her face.

“It’s blank,” she said. “What is the meaning of this, young lady?”

Camilla opened her eyes.

“Why are you carrying this wad of paper in your pocket?”

Everyone was staring at her. She looked at Veronica and swallowed. Opened her mouth. Couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

Mason laughed.

Veronica’s head swung toward him. “Maybe
you
can enlighten us, then.”

“Do you really need a
man
to explain it to you, Veronica?”

She stared at him, and her brows knitted. Then she snorted. “Some man
you
are.”

The tension in the room seemed to be dissipating, though. Camilla stared at her in confusion. Veronica’s expression was a mix of pity and disgust.

“For God’s sake,” she said, shaking her head at Camilla. “A woman your age should have learned by now to be prepared. It’s disgraceful.”

Her face softened, and she laid a hand on Camilla’s forearm. “Come see me afterward. I’ve got some in my bag.”

Her period—
that
was what Veronica thought the paper was for. Camilla’s face flushed.

Now everyone—Juan, Jordan, Brent—would be wondering about her hygiene. She was mortified. But she didn’t dare correct the misunderstanding. In fact, she ought to be grateful for it. She looked down at her feet.

Heather’s tooth lay on the floorboards in plain view, halfway between Veronica’s toes and hers. Her eyes widened, and the awful urge to giggle came back stronger than ever. Veronica would notice her staring at it for sure. Camilla jerked her head up, staring wall-eyed into Veronica’s face.

“You don’t want to get an infection,” Veronica said. “Not here.”

“W
hat have we here? Naughty, naughty, naught-ty.”

Camilla uncrossed her arms and looked up at the sound of Mason’s voice, giving her full attention to the front of the room. She had retreated to a corner, and the past five minutes were a blur. Her legs were still shaky, her face hot. She couldn’t tell whether she was going to laugh, cry, or throw up.

Heather’s tooth lay on the floor, right in front of everyone. It seemed impossible that no one had noticed it. She had to get it back, save it for the police.

She had only half listened while Mason was searched, and now Mason and Veronica were searching Brent.

“Got a prescription for these?” Grinning, Mason held a bundle of pills and several syringes in the air, displaying them to the other contestants like a courtroom lawyer grandstanding with exhibits. Brent looked disgusted.

Mason read the labels. “Fentanyl, Demerol, and propofol…And what about this? Modafinil? Hey, I’ve heard of this stuff. Silicon Valley startup execs use it to work nonstop twenty-hour days.” He laughed. “Wow, that’s quite a cocktail, Doc. You might want to ease up—none of us can be much help if you OD.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Brent said. “I know my own tolerances. Let’s not get distracted here.” He pointed at the pills and syringes. “Check my phone, and give those back.”

“We have power,” Mason said, manipulating the phone. “Wait for it… wait for it… but no. I was going to call the AMA on you, Doc, but there’s no signal.”

Mason pulled his own iPhone from his pocket. “Do yourself a favor and buy one of these. That big Microsoft clunker of yours is an old-man phone.”

Brent’s face was dark. Breathing heavily, he snatched the pills and syringes from Mason. Stuffing them back into the pockets of his vest, he walked away.

“Don’t forget your old-man phone,” Mason said, holding it out to him and laughing.

Veronica turned abruptly and walked across the room, away from the arched doorway. Camilla looked through the arch, where JT now stood.

He laid a hand on the frame and surveyed the room. A thick gauze bandage and tape covered one of his eyes. His nose looked the way Camilla’s felt.

“Big waste of time,” he said through split, swollen lips. “Easy to modify a phone so you need a code to activate the signal.”

“Do you have a better idea?” Camilla asked.

JT’s eye swept past Veronica, and his knuckles tightened on the doorway, but his fierce glare settled on Juan.

“Maybe I don’t need one,” he said. “Maybe I already know who we’re looking for.”

Jordan’s grip tightened on Juan’s arm.

“Then you won’t mind if they check
you,
” Juan said.

“Hell, why not? I’ve got nothing to hide.” JT stepped fully into the room and raised both arms above his head. His eye flicked toward Veronica. “Anyone but her.”

JT’s phone was dead. Mason and Brent found nothing else on him.

“Now you,” he said, fixing Juan with a stare.

“I’ll go.” Jordan detached herself from him and walked to the front of the room.

Veronica waved Natalie forward and curled a finger at Camilla, but kept her distance from JT. The air thrummed with tension.

At the front of the room once more, Camilla tried not to look down at Heather’s tooth while she searched Jordan. Jordan’s phone had a little bit of battery life left, but no signal. Camilla handed it back with an apologetic shrug, but Jordan’s cold expression gave her nothing.

“We might as well search you now, too, Natalie.” Camilla looked at the younger woman with sympathy, remembering what Veronica had said about her history.

Natalie nodded, looking down at the floor. She pulled her hands from her hoodie pockets, holding an iPhone and the stun gun.

Camilla was as gentle as possible, but Natalie shrank from her touch and Jordan’s. Her phone was dead. Head down, Natalie retreated to a corner, and Jordan returned to Juan’s side.

“Your turn,
compadre
.” JT’s voice was deadly calm. “I’ve seen you at night. Down by the dock.”

“You’re wrong,” Juan said, backing toward the doorway. “But I won’t be searched. I’m leaving now.”

Camilla’s breath caught. Not him. Please not him. And Jordan, too? But here was her chance, while all eyes were on Juan. She knelt rapidly as if tying her shoelace, pinched Heather’s tooth between her fingers, and slipped it inside her shoe.

“What are
you
doing now?” Veronica’s voice froze Camilla before she could stand.

“Back up.” Juan’s command sliced across the room, and they both turned to stare.

He had a gun in his hand. Black and blocky, it was held low in front of him.

“Mo-ther-fucker!” JT’s voice rose in surprise. “That’s
my
gun.”

Camilla stood. She had seen Juan gauging the distance yesterday, memorizing the spot where it had hit the water. She had hoped he would understand that it should stay there at the bottom, where it belonged. Bringing it back onto the island was sure to get somebody killed.

But was he Julian’s spy? She again saw him scooping the little boy out from in front of the truck. Her heart wouldn’t let her believe he was.

“Juan, put it down,” she said. “This is only making it worse.”

“You’re holding it wrong,” JT said, edging toward him. “And the safety’s on.”

“No!” Camilla shouted.

Juan raised the gun, hard-eyed. Finger on the trigger, he aimed it at JT’s face. “There’s no safety on a Glock. Now, back up, JT. Last warning.”

Mason laid a hand on JT’s shoulder. “You should be getting used to this by now,” he said. “Statistics do say that when gun owners get shot, it’s usually by their own guns. But let’s hear him out.”

JT plucked Mason’s hand off his shoulder without taking his eyes off Juan. “Because of you, Lauren’s dead.”

Juan shook his head. “It had nothing to do with me. She made her own decision.”

Bitterness washed over Camilla. She pushed in front of him, ignoring the gun. “You could have said something.” She stared into Juan’s dark eyes, searching for the friendliness she remembered, not finding it. “You could have warned us all about the sharks.”

“I’m not your tour guide.” Juan’s eyes never left JT, but he waved out the window with his other hand. “Besides, I can’t really explain that.”

So a divemaster thought the shark attack was strange, too. But even if he wasn’t Julian’s spy, his indifference was equally hurtful.

“How can you be like this?” she asked.

“You’re a nice person, Camilla.”

Coming from Juan, it stung. It sounded like a dismissal.

“Stop saying that,” she said. “I don’t want to hear it. Especially from you.”

His face didn’t change. “What I mean is, none of us are responsible for each other here.”

Camilla saw the flicker of hurt in Jordan’s eyes.

“You need to understand that,” Juan said. “Before you get yourself injured again. Or worse.”

“Not my brother’s keeper, Juan?” Her disappointment in him was choking her. She nodded toward Jordan. “Why don’t you ask
her
how she feels about that?”