“What?” Nate said, blinking.

“It’s the Jackals, cabin 12. The kids are nine years old. You’ll be working with Dylan and staying in that cabin until the other counselor gets here. Can you go join him over at that table when you’re done eating? And you’ll be needed at group orientation this afternoon.”

She indicated a guy who was two tables over who wore what looked like high-end surf clothing in bright yellow and blue. He was taking multiple selfies with a group of girls, lowering and raising his sunglasses for each one.

“You two,” she said to Janelle and Stevie, “can begin setup in the art pavilion. You don’t have to go to the afternoon session. That’s for counselors working in bunks. You’ll go to the campfire this evening.”

She strode away, leaving a shell-shocked Nate.

“Oh no,” he whispered dryly. “No. How did everything fall apart so quickly?”

“Sounds like it’s just for a day or two,” Janelle consoled him.

“A lot can happen in a day or two,” Nate replied.

Considering how the morning had gone, Stevie was inclined to agree.

11

STEVIE SPENT THE MORNING NOT PAYING ATTENTION TO THE RULES and safety walk and talk. She did not learn what to do in the case of a fire emergency at the campfire pit area. She did not learn where the lifeguard stations were along the lake. She paid no attention to where the first aid boxes were. As she walked, she mentally turned their cabin every which way, trying to work out how the message could be there and also not be visible. By the time the group headed to the dining pavilion for lunch, Stevie somehow managed to know less than she had when she’d started out that morning.

“You didn’t hear any of that, did you?” Janelle asked her as they headed for lunch.

Stevie shook her head.

“Me either. Have you worked it out? I haven’t.”

She shook her head again.

Carson texted as they entered the dining pavilion, so Stevie peeled off and went to meet him in the parking lot. He was standing by the Tesla, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

“You weren’t the only one who got something,” he said. “Look at this.”

He popped the trunk, which opened slowly. Inside, there was a plain cardboard box, about the size of a shoebox, with the words OPEN ME, CARSON written in black Sharpie. He opened the lid, revealing three dolls—one raven-haired girl, one plasticky boy, and one girl with red hair. They were bound in red string and had red slashes of paint all over them, and they were positioned exactly as Sabrina, Todd, and Diane had been found. They were all dressed in approximations of the clothes they’d been found in. The word SURPRISE was written inside the lid.

“I found this on my morning run,” he said, rubbing his hands together nervously. “It was in the middle of the path. It was on my property, but out of the range of the cameras.”