The Cabin (26 page)

“There are various threatening text messages from a burner phone to all of us.” She looked at me and smirked. “They'll find that…somewhere with Blake's belongings too. Oh, don't look scared, Mackenzie. You, Aaron, and Kyle are going to be fine.”

Blake scoffed. “You're not ever going to get away with this, Megan. You're insane if you think you are. Aaron's going to confess.”

She tilted her head to the side. “You have no idea what I'm capable of. He wanted to confess if I didn't sort it, and I've sorted it. See, Aaron only confessed in the first place because you threatened to kill his family, Blake. Now we both have a way out. When the police find all the damning evidence against you, it won't be hard for him to convince them of that too.”

“Stop it!” I hissed. “My God, Megan, what happened? You've never been cruel.”

“You'll never understand what I've been through, so let's not even go there. Can you imagine how people are going to think of me when they find out I lost the love of my life and was tortured for weeks by a killer? I was so hurt and damaged from losing the one person I truly loved and so desperate to be free of the pain and abuse that I took my own life. People will mourn, plant trees, name buildings after me. I'll be loved, and Blake will be in prison.”

“Megan,” I breathed.

She stood up and the chair clattered to the floor.

“Don't, Mackenzie! Don't say a word.”

The gun shook in her hands as she turned it on me. Blake froze, his face falling. I lifted my hands, my heart flying in my chest.

“OK, I'm sorry. Megs, please put the gun down. We can figure out a plan, I swear. You don't have to do this,” I said softly, trying to calm her. Megan was in constant need of comfort. She was timid and some part of that had to still be in her.

“I don't have a choice,” she spat. Her eyes were wild and flicked between Blake and me. The gun stayed fixed on my head.

“You do. There is always a choice. Please, Megan. Please put down the gun and let me help you.”

The corner of her mouth lifted. “No one can help me, not even you, Miss Fix It. And you won't be able to help your boy either.”

She lowered the gun, holding it in a tight grip by her side, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
Stay calm and show her there's a way out of this.
If anyone could get through to her it was me, and the pressure and responsibility of that gave me a headache.

Blake's future was on the line, and I had to try.

“Mackenzie's right, Megan, you can stop this, and we'll find a way to help you,” Blake said, taking a subtle step closer to me. His eyes focused on the gun.

“Don't be stupid,” Megan snapped. “There is no way I'll avoid prison, and I already have a plan. I like my plan.”

Blake's eyes slid up to hers. “Your plan won't stand up.”

Her lip curled as she stared through him. “Oh, really? You touched the gun. Your fingerprints are on it. Leave it in my hand or not, but it'll look like you planted it there. I'm sorry, Mackenzie.” She took the gun and held it to her mouth. Before my brain processed what was going on she pulled the trigger.

Bang.
My ears rang and Megan's lifeless body fell to the floor like a rag doll.

A scream ripped from my throat, but I couldn't hear a thing. Blake grabbed me as my legs were about to give out, and I clung to his arm. I couldn't take my eyes off Megan. Blood. More blood. I'd seen enough blood.

“Oh God, Megan. Megan. Blake, she's dead. Megan's dead!” I rambled. “She shot herself. Oh God, the blood is everywhere.” I looked down, but I was clean. The blood had splattered behind her.

“Mackenzie,” Blake muttered. His voice was cold and laced with fear. Gripping my upper arms, he forced me to look at him. “Mackenzie, I need you right now. Calm down, babe, please.”

No. He was right. He needed me because he would go down for the crimes Megan committed and Megan would be loved. That couldn't happen. How could Megan and Aaron plan something like that?

“I'm sorry,” I whispered, gasping for the air I so desperately needed.

“It's OK.” He let go of my arms, cupped my cheeks, and bent his head to kiss me. I couldn't let anything happen to him. He'd stolen my heart, and as long as he was OK, I would be too. I'd do anything to help him.

There was only one way to prevent him from being locked up.

I pulled back and stared into pretty blue eyes I'd fallen in love with so fast and so hard. Blake meant everything to me. “Run,” I whispered.

Order Natasha Preston's book

The Cellar

On sale now!

This book was a lot of fun to write—both times. But without some amazing people in my life,
The Cabin
wouldn't be here now. Thank you to my husband for understanding that his wife turns into a caffeine and words junkie as a deadline approaches.

Thank you to the amazing team at Sourcebooks who worked on
The Cabin
to make it what it is today. And the cover is my favorite!

Last but by no means least, thank you so much to my readers. You guys blow me away.

READY FOR ANOTHER HEART-POUNDING READ?

DON'T MISS NATASHA PRESTON'S
THE CELLAR

“Summer, are you now leaving?” Mum called from the kitchen.
No, I'm walking out the door for fun!

“Yeah.”

“Sweetheart, be careful,” Dad said.

“I will. Bye,” I replied quickly and walked out the door before they could stop me. They still treated me like I was in elementary school and couldn't go out alone. Our town was probably—actually definitely—the most boring place on earth; nothing even remotely interesting ever happened.

The most excitement we'd ever had was two years ago when old Mrs. Hellmann—yeah, like the mayonnaise—went missing and was found hours later wandering the sheep field looking for her late husband. The whole town was looking for her. I still remember the buzz of something finally happening.

I started walking along the familiar pavement toward the pathway next to the graveyard. That was the only part of walking alone that I didn't like. Graveyards. They were scary—fact—and especially when you were alone. I subtly glanced around while I walked along the footpath. I felt uneasy, even after passing thegraveyard. We had moved to this neighborhood when I was five, and I had always felt safe here. My childhood had been spent playing out in the street with my friends, and as I got older, I hung out at the park or club. I knew this town and the people in it like the back of my hand, but the graveyard always creeped me out.

I pulled my jacket tightly around myself and picked up the pace. The club was almost in view, just around the next corner. I glanced over my shoulder again and gasped as a dark figure stepped out from behind a hedge.

“Sorry, dear, did I frighten you?”

I sighed in relief as old Harold Dane came into view. I shook my head. “I'm fine.”

He lifted up a heavy-looking black bag and threw it into his garbage can with a deep grunt as if he had been lifting weights. His skinny frame was covered in wrinkled, saggy skin. He looked like he'd snap in half if he bent over. “Are you going to the disco?”

I grinned at choice of word.
Disco.
Ha! That's probably what they called it back when he was a teenager. “Yep. I'm meeting my friends there.”

“Well, you have a good night, but watch your drinks. You don't know what the boys today slip in pretty young girls' drinks,” he warned, shaking his head as if it were the scandal of the year and every teenage boy was out to date-rape everyone.

Laughing, I raised my hand and waved. “I'll be careful. Night.”

“Good night, dear.”

The club was visible from Harold's house, and I relaxed as I approached the entrance. My family and Lewis had made me jumpy; it was ridiculous. As I got to the door, my friend Kerri grabbed my arm from beside me, making me jump. She laughed, her eyes alight with humor.
Hilarious.
“Sorry. Have you seen Rachel?”

My heart slowed to its normal pace as my brain processed my friend's face and not the face of the
Scream
dude or Freddy Kruger. “Not seen anyone. Just got here.”

“Damn it. She ran off after another argument with the idiot, and her phone's turned off!” Ah, the idiot. Rachel had a very on/off relationship with her boyfriend, Jack. I never understood that—if you pissed each other off 90 percent of the time, then just call it a day. “We should find her.”

Why? I had hoped for a fun evening with friends, not chasing after a girl who should have just dumped her loser boyfriend's arse already. Sighing, I resigned myself to the inevitable. “Okay, which direction did she go?”

Kerri gave me a flat look. “If I knew that, Summer…”

Rolling my eyes, I pulled her hand, and we started walking back toward the road. “Fine. I'll go left, you go right.” Kerri saluted and marched off to the right. I laughed at her and then went my way. Rachel had better be close.

I walked across the middle of the playing field near the club, heading toward the gate at the back to see if she had taken the shortcut through to her house. The air turned colder, and I rubbed my arms. Kerri said Rachel's phone was off, but I tried calling it anyway and, of course, it went straight to voice mail. If she didn't want to speak to anyone, then why were we trying to find her?

I left an awkward message on her phone—I hated leaving messages—and walked through the gate toward the skate ramp at the back of the park. The clouds shifted, creating a gray swirling effect across the sky. It looked moody, creepy but pretty at the same times. A light, cool breeze whipped across my face, making my light honey-blond hair—according to hairdresser wannabe Rachel—blow in my face and a shudder ripple through my body.

“Lily?” a deep voice called from behind me. I didn't recognize it. I spun around and backed up as a tall, dark-haired man stepped into view. My stomach dropped. Had he been hiding between the trees? What the heck? He was close enough that I could see the satisfied grin on his face and neat hair not affected by the wind. How much hairspray must he have used? If I weren't freaked out, I would have asked what product he used because my hair never played fair. “Lily,” he repeated.

“No. Sorry.” Gulping, I took another step back and scanned the area in the vain hope that one of my friends would be nearby. “I'm not Lily,” I mumbled, straightening my back and looking up at him in an attempt to appear confident. He towered over me, glaring down at me with creepily dark eyes.

He shook his head. “No. You are Lily.”

“I'm Summer. You have the wrong person.”
You utter freak!

I could hear my pulse crashing in my ears. How stupid to give him my real name. He continued to stare at me, smiling. It made me feel sick. Why did he think I was Lily? I hoped that I just looked like his daughter or something and he wasn't some crazy weirdo.

I took another step back and searched around to find a place that I could escape if needed. The park was big, and I was still near the back, just in front of the trees. There was no way anyone would be able to see me from here. That thought alone made my eyes sting. Why did I come here alone? I wanted to scream at myself for being so stupid.

“You are Lily,” he repeated.

Before I could blink, he threw his arms forward and grabbed me. I tried to shout, but he clasped his hand over my mouth, muffling my screams. What the heck was he doing? I thrashed my arms, frantically trying to get out of his grip.
Oh God, he's going to kill me.
Tears poured from my eyes. My heart raced. My fingertips tingled and my stomach knotted with fear.
I'm going to die. He's going to kill me.

The Lily man pulled me toward him with such force the air left my lungs in a rush as I slammed against him. He spun me around so my back pressed tightly against his chest. And with his hand sealed over my mouth and nose, I struggled to breathe. I couldn't move, and I didn't know if it was because he had such a strong iron grip or if I was too stunned. He had me, and he could do whatever he wanted because I couldn't bloody move a muscle.

He pushed me through the gate at the back of the park and then through the field. I tried again to scream for help, but against his palm, I hardly made a sound. He whispered “Lily” over and over while he dragged me toward a white van. I watched trees pass me by and birds fly over us, landing on branches. Everything carried on as normal. Oh God, I needed to get away now. I dug my feet into the ground and screamed so hard that my throat instantly started to hurt. It was useless, though; no one was around to hear me but the birds.

He tugged his arm back, pressing it into my stomach. I cried out in pain. As soon as he let go to open the van's back door, I screamed for help. “Shut up!” he shouted as he pushed me inside the vehicle. My head smashed into the side of the van while I struggled.

“Please let me go. Please. I'm not Lily. Please.”