My cousin.

My friend.

TWELVE

My plan had been simple: I would show Bram my cards. Make it easy for him to find me, and keep him focused on me alone. It went against both my principles as an investigator and my police training, but for more than a year I’d kept his identity a secret from everyone. I didn’t do it for Abe. I was appalled and revolted and deeply ashamed, but more than that, I knew revealing what had become of him to my family would leave them with agonizing questions to which I had no answers yet. As for Mac and Tim, the more they knew about Bram, the less control I had over my pursuit. And I had to get to Bram first.

Back in the basement, he’d told me what to do: You’re going to have to figure this out, Shay. Why I did what I did to those girls. It’s the only way to make me stop. So, I recast myself as a diversion. I thought that if I could distract him, people would be safe.

But now a boy was missing, and there was a new game afoot.

The overhead lights in the interview room turned Tim’s skin the color of ash. His face was wind-chapped, his dense eyebrows cinched tight as a drawstring above bloodshot eyes. He hadn’t stopped wiping his nose since he walked through the station door. After nearly six hours on Heart Island conducting interviews and coordinating the search only to come back empty-handed, Tim didn’t just look tired, but unwell.

“Bram,” Tim said. The name altered his features as if he’d eaten something foul. “You think this has something to do with Bram.”

After discovering the poster, I’d borrowed Annette’s winter gloves to protect any prints left behind. Now it was tucked in an evidence bag and lay on the table between us. “McIntyre told you I was in Swanton?” I said.

Tim nodded. I tapped at the bag, the photo next to Trey’s.

“This man is the reason why. His name is Brett Skilton, and his remains were just found in the woods out there. It looks like he’s been dead for about twenty years. There’s no doubt it was a homicide. He was my uncle.”

“Shit. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. We weren’t close. But as you know, Bram’s from Swanton, too.” I twined my hands. “He would have heard about the death on the news. He knew this poster would stop me in my tracks. It’s his way of flagging me down.”

Tim inclined his head. “The poster says missing. But your uncle’s dead?”

“He left Swanton when I was thirteen—at least, that’s what we all thought. As far as I know, nobody in my family had any contact with him after that. It’s sounding like he didn’t make it past the town limits alive.”

“And you think Bram left this here for you?”

“Yes.”

“But how did he know you were in A-Bay?”