“From what I gather, a lot of you were at low points when David Pilcher came into your lives. He gave you purpose and meaning, and I totally get that. But he’s as much of a monster as the abbies who lived beyond the fence. Maybe even more. The idea of Wayward Pines was always more important to him than the people who called that town home, and I’m sorry to say, it was more important than any of you.

“You all knew Alyssa. Everything I’ve heard confirms that she was universally loved inside this mountain. She didn’t see eye to eye with her father. She believed the people of Wayward Pines deserved better than 24-7 surveillance, than being forced to murder one another, than never knowing the truth. What I’m about to show you is upsetting, and I apologize for that, but you need to know what kind of a man you served so you can begin to move past it.”

Ethan pointed behind the crowd at a hundred-inch monitor mounted to the rock beside the glass doors.

Most days, it displayed work schedules. Who was on shift in surveillance, security, and suspension. Arrival and departure times for transportation going back and forth to Wayward Pines. An in-mountain message system for Pilcher’s inner circle.

Tonight, it would show David Pilcher, the creator of Wayward Pines, murdering his only daughter.

Ethan shouted to one of Ted’s surveillance techs standing beneath the screen, “Play it!”

THERESA

THERESA

The smoke trailed up and vented outside through the barred window near the ceiling. Flames ate away at the legs of Belinda’s desk chair, fueled by a ream of printer paper. Ben sprawled on the single mattress, which Theresa had pulled off the metal frame and set next to the fire. She sat across from Hassler, holding her hands close to the heat.

On the other side of the bars, Pam’s body lay slumped across the concrete, the pool of blood still expanding around her head.

“I saw the fence was down,” Hassler said. “I came racing into town. I went to our house, but you weren’t there. I looked everywhere. I thought you and Ben were dead. As I was looking for ammo in the sheriff’s station, I heard your voice, begging Pam to spare you. Isn’t exactly the homecoming I imagined.”

“I didn’t imagine one at all,” Theresa said. “I was told you weren’t coming back.”

“What happened here?”

“The town knows the truth now.”

“Everything?”

“Everything. We lost a lot of people. I guess the man who built all of this decided to trash his play set and go home.”

“Who told everyone the truth?”

“There was a fête called for Kate and Harold Ballinger, but instead of executing them, the sheriff used the opportunity to lift the curtain.”

“Pope?”