Page 154 of Hide And Seek

“I know he will. I already have the entire conversation mapped out in my head,” he said, tapping lightly against his temple. “Every answer. Every reassurance. Every pressurepoint.” His eyes locked onto mine. “All you have to do is back me up. Play along with whatever I say.”

“Right,” I murmured, though my thoughts were still spinning. Then another issue occurred to me. “Wait. What about the alibi problem?”

Rhys tilted his head slightly. “What alibi problem?”

“When Sloane and Reid died, everyone else technically had an alibi for that stretch of time, including Zach.” I narrowed my eyes. “You were the only person without one.”

Rhys dismissed that with a lazy wave of his hand. “That won’t matter. The people who vouched for Zach are dead now, and nobody knows the exact time Sloane and Reid were killed anyway,” he said. “Also, by the time the survivors are interviewed, everyone’s memories will be scrambled or faded. People will convince themselves Zach had opportunities they never actually saw.”

“That’s… probably true,” I said grudgingly.

He lifted a brow. “Do you see any other holes?”

I hesitated. “Not exactly a hole. More of a question.”

“Go on.”

“You butchered most of the others,” I said. “But with Zach, you’re planning to shoot him, and I’m assuming you’ll put the bullet in his head to make sure he’s dead. Right?”

“Yes.”

“So why does he get an easier death than everyone else?” I asked. “Not that I’m advocating for torture here. I’m just saying, it feels inconsistent with the rest.”

For the first time in a while, Rhys’s expression softened slightly. “You’re right,” he said. “He is getting off easier.”

“Why?”

“Because out of all of them, Zach was the only one who felt guilty about Carly. Not guilty enough to confess in the end, obviously. But he still felt something.”

“So a quick, painless death is his reward?”

“Something like that.” A faint smile touched Rhys’s mouth. “Besides, he’s not getting off too easy, is he? He’ll still go down in history as the Blackpine Butcher.”

“That’s the nickname you’ve given yourself, huh?” I asked, raising a brow.

His smirk returned immediately. “I think it has a nice ring to it.”

I ignored that and leaned back. “You know, after this is all over, there’ll probably be a few people who laud the killer as a fucked-up folk hero,” I said. “Like a twisted version of Robin Hood. Killing rich murderers to avenge their poor victims.”

Rhys tilted his head again. “Are you one of those people?”

I didn’t answer. Just stared down at the blanket and twisted it in my hands while silence stretched between us.

He finally moved a little closer. “If you help me sell this story, we can both walk away free and clear.”

“Apart from the bit where I’m an accessory to a spree killer,” I muttered.

“That’s exactly why you’ll stay free,” he replied. “Because you’ll never be able to breathe a word about it to anyone. Which means I’ll finally be able to trust you enough to let you go.”

I looked back up at him. “And if I refuse?”

For the first time since this conversation started, Rhys hesitated. “If you refuse,” he said slowly, “then you’ll have to tell the police the truth about everything, and I’ll spend the rest of my life in prison.”

I searched his face. “But you’d never actually let that happen, would you?”

“I would.”

Disbelief flashed through me. “You’d seriously let me tell the truth and destroy your entire life?”