No way, I thought. Not now, not like this. “The deception, the lies,” I said, “it’s what I’ve been trying to warn you about all day. The trapper’s in the clear, and there’s nobody but us on the island. The killer’s right there, in that room. So maybe this isn’t the time for a chat. Look, when we get back to the station later I’ll spring for a coffee—the good stuff, not office crap—and spill my guts, okay? All you need right now is my assurance I can make it another hour until help comes, and you’ve got that. I swear, Tim, I’m fine.”

And I was. An hour, I could do. Minutes from now this depraved, perverted family would be in my past.

“You’re new to these parts. I get that,” he said. “But you can’t seriously still think the cavalry’s coming.”

“What? But you said—”

“You want them knowing we’re on our own indefinitely? I sure don’t. Call McIntyre, by all means. Tell her what happened. Maybe skip the part about shooting Flynn. But understand, it’s just you and me out here tonight, on an island with one skilled killer—maybe more—who won’t hesitate to slit our throats. They have the numbers.” The trace of alarm in Tim’s eyes belied the steadiness of his voice. “They might hate each other, but who do you think they’ll side with if it comes down to family or the cops? These people are angry and scared. They’ll turn on us in a heartbeat, and as you demonstrated earlier, you’re a lousy shot. We’ve got to have trust, Shane. I have to be able to rely on you a hundred and fifty percent, because you were right, okay? It’s us against them. So tell me why you freaked out back there so we can make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Us against them. Hearing my own words thrown back at me had a paralyzing, hornet-sting effect. No one was coming. It was just us.

I’d never seen Tim take a firm stance on anything—the man hated making decisions, would happily defer to someone else on everything from his sandwich order to where to park the car—and here he was making the biggest demand of all. It was the ultimate trust exercise, and I didn’t know if I could do it. Tim would judge me. Who wouldn’t? No amount of compassion can turn off that mean little instinct. It’s inborn, even in guys like Tim, who claim people are fundamentally good. Once he knew the truth, he’d understand how badly I’d failed, and he’d never look at me the same way again.

“It’ll change things. The way you see me. It won’t be the same.”

“You don’t know that. Give me a chance.”

There was another possibility, I thought as I regarded him. Maybe Tim and I didn’t see eye to eye about Jasper because I was looking through a filthy lens. My point of view was tainted by what happened with Bram—but Tim’s wasn’t. Tim was still pure. If I could explain myself, maybe we could help each other. Solve this case together, the way we were supposed to.