And the second Chelsea and I split up, Shane tried to strangle me in the living room. I had believed I tripped over Tim’s body in the living room, but it was so dark—I must have tripped on something else while Tim was lurking in the shadows. And while my windpipe was being crushed, Tim went up to Shane’s bedroom to simultaneously take care of Chelsea—the sound of thunder almost masked the sound of her screams. I never quite understood when the killer had time to get rid of Chelsea, but now it all makes sense.

When they realized I escaped the house, they must have done some quick thinking. It was obvious the tiny stab wound in Tim’s belly was not meant to kill him. It was meant to make it look like he was a victim. Same deal with the bump on Shane’s scalp. They were just pretending to be unconscious. Maybe the plan was to hope I never saw the face of the person who choked me, blame the entire massacre on a drifter, and claim the footprints had been washed away.

But then when I blamed it all on Shane, Tim flipped. He turned on Shane, going along with my story in order to save his own ass. It must’ve driven Shane crazy, but what could he do? If he told the truth, it would be admitting he was a murderer.

Lucky for Shane, Tim couldn’t keep from killing again.

My knees buckle beneath me, and I barely make it to the chair before I collapse. Shane is crazy. He tried to kill me that night—I have no doubt it was him anymore. And now he is out in the woods with my son.

Our son.

My hands are shaking almost too badly to get my phone out of my coat pocket. I’ve got to get Shane and Josh back here, and I can’t let Shane know that I know what he did. As soon as we get back into town, I’ll go straight to the police. I’ll tell them everything I know.

The phone rings a gut-clenching five times before Shane’s voice comes on the other line: “Hi, Brooke.”

He sounds so normal. He doesn’t sound like a murderer. I can’t let on what I know. “Hey. Are you guys heading back soon?”

“Pretty soon,” Shane says vaguely. “We’re having a lot of fun out here building that snowman.”

“That’s great.” I try to keep my voice steady and normal. How does my voice usually sound? I can’t even remember. “But it’s getting late. You should head back.

“Late? It’s barely midafternoon.”

“It’s just… it’s cold out. I don’t want Josh to get sick.”

“He’s fine. He’s all bundled up.”

“Still. I think it’s better if you head back pretty soon. You know?”