.: Chapter 10 :.
Unfounded Accusations

After four hours of watching Nathan play mini-golf with some other man whose name Avery could not remember, he had been ready for a break. He fumbled for the key in his pocket, and slid it neatly into the lock. The knob was hot to the touch. The cabin was too warm, but it was still a nice change from the blistering sun. If Nathan’s ability to play mini-golf was any indication of his murderous intents, then he would have been considered a bunny: he was complete shit at golf.

Avery had only been at the cabin for five minutes when Allison stormed in, face pale, green eyes huge in her face, and out of breath. He was pretty sure that she had not been at the cabin to avoid him, which he had absolutely no problems with. After only two days of tedious role-playing, he was sick of it. Though taunting her had been fun for a little while in Chicago, it also got really old, really fast. Especially since he hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. His muscles were still aching from falling off the damned couch.

“What is it now, Ms. Gardner?” Avery sighed, sensing a headache beginning to develop.

“Abigail…Kerri…same cabin…this cabin…” Allison struggled out between gasps, her eyes desperately searching the cabin. Avery felt the sinking feeling that he had felt that morning, that he had somehow been conned into this assignment and there was no way out of it.

“You’re not making any sense. What are you talking about?” Avery stood up, trying to figure out what she was saying and keep out of the way at the same time as she started rummaging through the entire cabin.

“I ran into Kira…at the little café on the far side of the island…” She replied, still catching her breath. “She told me that Abigail and Kerri…both lived in this cabin…and they both ‘eloped’ with their boyfriends…in the middle of the program.”

“Who’s Kira?” Avery asked. It was vaguely familiar, and he could remember the face…the thin blonde one from therapy. That was it. “Nathan’s…”

“Girlfriend, exactly. And the connection between Abigail, Kerri, and me?” Allison said, running her hand along the walls. Without waiting for an answer, she continued. “We’re all targets for the killer, whoever he is.”

“But Hailey assigned us to this cabin, so that must mean…”

“It doesn’t mean anything. Hailey’s so lightheaded that she probably doesn’t even know there are murders being committed on her island.” Allison snapped, her voice suddenly dripping venom.

“Are you always like this, Allison?” The anger in his own voice shocked him. “You just need someone to hate, is that it? First me, then Hailey…who’s next, your friend Christine?”

“You’re one to talk,” She said in a measured voice, but the cold anger in it was evident. “I’m not the one that goes around sleeping with everyone who seems interested.”

“You think I slept with someone?” Shock replaced his anger. “With who…Hailey?”

“Didn’t you?” She faced him, her face set in a scream. “Your little friend trips in here this morning, asks me why the hell you were sleeping on the couch, and then told me what a great time she had last night and asked if I would relay the message to you! Here I was, thinking that you were just another stuck-up asshole, but you are so much more than that, aren’t you?”

“I suggest you stop now before your wild accusations make it impossible for us to work together.” Avery tried to hide his anger with falsely polite words, which usually works so well on other people. Allison seemed to see right through it, and scoffed in distaste.

“Who said we had to work together, you creep? I prefer working alone, and when that fails, I prefer not working with someone who bangs everything that walks on two legs and wore a skirt at some point in her life.”

That struck a soft spot with Avery. Even though so many people have long labeled him the Playboy, he wasn’t actually the stereotypical sex-crazed guy that everyone made him out to be. It was just that most women bored him. So what, he liked pretty women, but he wanted something else…intelligence, wit, humor. Their own opinions, values, something; all the women he met just nodded and smiled at everything that came out of his mouth. In a word, mindless fucking just wasn’t enough for him anymore. But then again, the last steady girlfriend he had that was actually intelligent, Sophia, had cheated on him with some Brazilian bastard. He diverted his attention back to Allison.

“I did not sleep with her. Or anyone, for that matter.”

“Hmm…your word against hers. The asshole or the bitch.” She said in mock contemplation, her voice practically gift-wrapping every word in sarcasm. “Gee, I’m not really sure who to believe. She basically told me that you slept with her, and you so vehemently deny it. I don’t know, I think your looking down her top yesterday was a pretty good indication of what happened.”

He ground his teeth together to stop himself from saying something he’ll really regret. He tried not to think about her face last night, this morning, when she had looked so goddamned vulnerable and scared. She had completely lost that look now, so immersed was she in mercilessly insulting him. Her expression had reverted back to its normal state whenever she saw him in Chicago: a mixture of contempt and pure loathing. But there was something new there this time, panic, perhaps, but quieter now. A nerve at her temple twitched as she resolutely turned her back on him and began searching the room again.

“The cabin’s clean.” She said quietly a few minutes later, as though she was talking to herself. “It’s probably just a coincidence then. But I can’t help but wonder why we would all be assigned to this cabin…what’s so special about this cabin?”

As he expected, she reflexively walked to the window and looked out. Allison was, he observed, a creature of habit. Whenever she was nervous, pensive or bored, she always wandered to the window. She did it so much, in fact, that he would have thought she was claustrophobic, had he not supervised her little training sessions three years ago. The panicked deer-in-headlights look had not completely worn off, and she was still jumpy and tense. He wondered why. It was strange, really. He had known her for so long, yet knew so little about her. He hadn’t expected her to fall at his feet, though some women did (and it rather repulsed him), but he didn’t expect…this irrational hatred of him.

“That’s it.” She turned to him slowly, her eyes seeming to catch the last rays of sunshine. “Cummings, that’s it.”

“What’s it?” He looked at her in confusion.

“We’re looking for the wrong thing. We’re looking for suspects, for motives, for a face to pin the murders on.” She paced back and forth, shaking her head in wonder. “What we should be looking for is evidence, clues. And where better to look…” She pointed triumphantly towards the forest of palm trees silhouetted against the falling sun. “…than the crime scene itself?”

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The beach was quiet tonight. No wind whistling quietly through the palm trees, no water lapsing against the white sand beach, no frivolous bonfire parties on the beach a short distance from where he was standing. He waited. The seconds ticked off on his watch. His legs began to cramp. At exactly midnight, he heard faint footsteps behind him. He turned towards the sound.

“You called?”

The dark figure, barely illuminated by the sliver of a moon, walked towards him silently. It was barely more than a shadow, and yet all to real. His hands were trembling.

“If I didn’t, you wouldn’t be here waiting, would you?”

He grunted in response, turning back to the ocean. The ocean had always had a spell of sorts over him. His days on the island were never idle: there was always something to do, something that needed to be done. When it became unbearable, he turned to the ocean. Usually, it was calming, a single rational voice amidst all this couples counseling. Today, it foreshadowed some untold doom. He faced his partner again, perhaps a little reluctantly.

“What is it?” He asked wearily, already knowing, anticipating even, the answer.

“I need you to do me a little favor.”

He felt his hands tightened into fists. How he hated his hands now. They were once his pride, long fingered, slim. They always worked wonders over the keys of the piano, dancing over them like leaves in the fall swirling in the wind. But no longer. His hands were now good for one reason, and one reason only.

“The new couple?” It was a statement, not a question.

“Of course. Who else?” A chuckle met his words. “I kill one pair of rats, another pops up. I want them off this island. I want them dead. You can understand that, can’t you?”

“I’ll never understand your need to kill people.” He muttered, quietly. “But…”

His words were cut short rather harshly. “You know money is not an issue. Name your price.” Another laugh, brash, almost insolent. “I know you need it.”

He did need it: his mother was an alcoholic, and he had sent her to a clinic to dry out, and that cost him an arm and a leg. He was still trying to pay off the debt.

“Ten thousand. US dollars, mind you, not some fucking pesos the Mexicans seem to like so much.” Ten grand. His eyes began to tear up, and he blamed it on the salty tang in the air. The first five thousand, and the seven thousand after that, had disappeared so quickly. Damn right, he needed the money. Now, more than ever.

His partner in crime was silent, contemplating the offer. He knew he was pushing it, asking for ten thousand, but how did one put a price tag on a life? Five thousand a head, that wasn’t too bad. And he knew he was pushing himself to the limit. One more strangling and he’d probably shoot himself. But ten grand would be sufficient to pay off his debts.

“Done.”

At that word, he visibly relaxed, his shoulders falling down to their regular position.

“But I want this done differently that the last two times.”

“Why? It worked perfectly before.” His head came up slowly, look a fox testing the air for other predators. His right hand, his killing hand, began to have spasms. He grabbed it roughly with his left. He didn’t want anyone to know that he was failing.

“That’s exactly why. One more killing like that and the Feds will be on our tails.” The rough voice replied. “Besides, don’t you want to have a little…fun?”

“Killing people is not fun.” He answered gruffly.

Next thing he knew, a gun was pointed as his temple. He flinched, his face paling visibly in the dark. Seeing someone else with a gun at their head and having one pointed at yourself was not exactly the same experience. His hands shook uncontrollably, and he made no move to stop them.

“You are not here to give your opinions. You are here to work for me. That is, if you still want to. If you don’t…” The safety was released, sounding like a gunshot in the still of the night. He felt the gun being pressed harder into his temple. “I’ll be sure to find another use for you. I’m sure the sharks are hungry this time of year.”

“I…apologize.” He felt the sweat drip down from his hairline. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Good. I’m glad we agree.” The gun abruptly vanished, and his heart began beating again. “I want the girl dead first. The guy seems like a pretty easy target, but the girl could prove to be annoying. You know how I feel about annoying people.”

“Yeah…yeah, I do.” He said, nodding his head like he was supposed to.

“We’ll make it an accident, shall we? Like a knife just suddenly falling from the kitchen ceiling when she happened to be standing there. Or a chandelier cord fraying and snapping when she is alone in the room. What terrible misfortune will hound her heels…” A laugh rang out in the night. “I see from your face that you don’t like my ideas. Well, then, something a little more subtle. I’ll think of something, I’m sure.”

He tried not to make a sound, because he could not afford to betray his disgust now.

“I’ll let you know when I have more.”

The silhouette began to move away, then stopped.

“Oh, I just thought you might want to know. I thought the note was a nice touch. She was scared, all right. I’ll be sure to throw in a little something for you the next time we meet.”

And then the figure was gone.