“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He wouldn’t look at me.

“You and Flynn haven’t been getting along.”

“Flynn’s a salty bastard. We argue. So what?”

“My fiancé and I argue, too. Sometimes those arguments escalate, make us say and do crazy things. Has that ever happened with you and Flynn?”

“Have we ever argued and ended up killing someone? Nah,” he said, “we usually stick to armed robbery.”

“If Flynn’s such an asshole, why did you get together with him at all?” I couldn’t conceive of a more unlikely match, or understand what anyone could see in Flynn that had the potency to spark romantic attraction, let alone sexual desire.

“Domineering brutes are my type.”

“Are they?” I said. “Just men, or women, too?”

“What business is it of yours?” Ned dragged a hand across his forehead with a sound like sandpaper on wood. “Look, Flynn wasn’t always this way. He treated me like royalty. I cared about him, okay?”

“You realize I’ve spoken with everyone but you. There are some disadvantages to being last. The others already had their chance to shape the story. Do you get what I’m saying, Ned? Whatever you aren’t telling me, the secret you think you’re hiding? I already know.”

“Jesus Christ, it doesn’t fucking matter. We should be looking for Jasper! What if he’s still on the island, hurt or . . .” His voice trailed off. “What if he needs help?”

My visions of Jasper out there in the storm . . . Ned saw them, too. They stretched his mouth into the shape of a scream. He wasn’t wrong with those what-ifs. I’d searched bits and pieces of the three-acre island alone. I could easily have missed something. Jasper might still be shivering in the mud while his blood turned the yellow leaves black. Knowing Ned was thinking the same thing softened me, but only a little. As he spoke Ned folded his arms across his chest, a demonstration of his refusal to tip his hand.

“What do you think I’m trying to do?” I said with frustration. “Everything matters—every act, every look, every word. We’re not going to find Jasper until we know who hurt him. He could be dying out there.” He could be dead.

Ned ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. “There was a fight,” he said in a tight voice. “Last night.”

“Right. Upstairs.” Loud voices after midnight.

His forehead puckered. “No. That was Miles and Bebe.”

It was the first time he’d spoken her name. I watched carefully but his expression didn’t change. “Miles and Bebe?”

“Arguing in their room.”

“Are you saying there was another fight? Somewhere else?”

“Outside.” Ned cocked his head. “You didn’t know?”

I felt my cheeks get hot. I’d told him I knew everything worth knowing.

“I thought,” Ned said, “maybe Flynn . . .”

“Lucky you. You get to be the one to fill me in. Who was involved in this fight?” I said. “You and Flynn?”