“No!” she cried, wrestling with twisted, blood-spattered images, as memory after horrible memory washed over her. Skip’s temper, Skip’s jealousy, Skip’s ugly threats to Donna—they were all making sense now. She remembered his candidness with her that night in his bedroom, the beautiful deer head hung on his wall surrounded by all those muscle-building machines—“I just take it”—“I get whatever I want”—“she deserved what she got…”

“…they don’t see you but they know…”

Kelsey, I think someone is going to kill me.

Beth had known, had suspected all along that someone was after her. How long had he stalked her, Kelsey wondered now, waiting for his chance, enjoying her fear and helplessness, knowing all along that he would kill her in his own time…

“She trusted you!” Kelsey cried and fell facedown as wind and spray hit her full force. She had to get up…get help…but it was like trying to wade through quicksand. She could hardly move her legs anymore. How many others had there been, how many girls that no one even knew about? And the murders at Skip’s school…those nice girls who would never get in a car with a stranger…girls that had just disappeared off the face of the earth? So he had satisfied his urges wherever he went…

She heard his footsteps, plodding along behind her.

She pulled herself up and ran for her life.

Isaac had known who the killer was, and now he was dead. And it was her fault. Her fault for telling what she suspected, for trusting Skip, for being so nosy and getting involved… Skip was systematically disposing of all possible witnesses—and if Isaac was dead, everyone would think the mystery was over. Except that she had seen Isaac now, and she knew better, knew that he’d been strangled before his body had ever touched the water…

Skip had played games with her. Twisted, little games of spying and sneaking into her room and listening in on the phone when he’d been next door. Isaac had tried to warn her, and she hadn’t believed him. But now Isaac was dead, and she had found him, and she had seen the key.

She knew who the real killer was.

Skip couldn’t afford to let her live.

Kelsey stopped with a jolt. The cliffs were high above her, blocking her escape, just as they had prevented escape for so many, many others through all the centuries past. With a cry of terror she veered off, following the base of the incline until at last she stumbled out onto the road.

The road that led up to the lighthouse.

With the gate unchained and open.

Kelsey plunged ahead, dragging herself up the steep rise. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold out—she couldn’t feel anything anymore. Every sound was Skip—Skip bursting out of the rain, out of the fog, out of the shadows, to kill her. Funny, she thought, and had a sudden desire to laugh at the absurdity of it all—Neale had hated Skip all this time, must have suspected him all along—and I was afraid of Neale…