“A tree, wearing what remains of him,” Hemslock says. “Poetic justice. And it would explain why the cult would have chosen a pregnant woman to sacrifice. Fourth to birth.”

“No local court records of the cultists, though,” Leo Gries murmurs.

“We’ll find more proof sooner or later,” Hemslock insists. “Did you all know that the Godseye was the first documentary I ever wanted to produce? I couldn’t get any of you asses interested in it then. Information has always been scarce. Rumors of the cult and Alex Key’s journal were the only thing we had to go on at first, until the plane crash a few years back.”

“The same plane crash where my wife died,” Leo Gries says. “The plane went missing in the area. The island was searched, to no avail. And then—a body was found a year later. Giles Cochrane. He was on the passenger list. They found him buried here. No one knows who did it, or why. Authorities searched the island again but couldn’t find anyone—or anything—else.”

Silence descends on the table. I see Chase looking down with his jaw clenched, abject misery on his face.

“I’m sorry, man,” Producer Two says sincerely. “I know coming back here must be hard on you.”

“I want closure,” Leo says. I glance at his hands, gripped in his lap, knuckles white with effort. “I want to know what happened.”

“And we’ll do our best to figure that out,” Hemslock says reassuringly.

“So you’re saying that the god caused the plane to crash?” Producer Three asks disbelievingly.

“That’s one of the things we’re here to find out.” Hemslock looks at me. “Am I right so far? What do you know about the cult?”

“The cult were outsiders,” I say. “That was long before my time.”

“What about your father? He ever mention them?”

“Only with disgust, but he knows very little of them.”

“The plane crash investigators found nothing inside the Godseye,” Hawaiian Shirt says. “But that’s part of what I want to talk to you about, Rube. Christie says the cave system is way different than what the crash investigators described. You’re the cave expert, so thought you’d like to know.”

“Thanks. Send word back to Jesse, see if he can grill the locals. It’s only been less than a couple of decades since the cult died here, someone out there knows something.” Hemslock points at the projection on the wall. “The fifth, and last known, death—Alex Key. He’s the one we’ve got the most concrete proof about. We have a body—half of a body, but it’s a start. And as I said, he’d left behind a notebook full of ramblings that make the curse sound even more insidious. And again—Key died four years ago. How did he wind up writing the same riddle Cortes had hundreds of years before? Fifth to serve and damn if Key isn’t living up to that.”

“I’d like to get more stories about the island,” Armani says. “Any more scary stories you can tell us about this place, Alon?”