Oh God. I’d fallen into Ami’s trap. And nobody even knew where I was. Adam certainly wasn’t going to come to my rescue. I mentally kicked myself for being so foolish. Why had I not called him to verify he’d written that note? Sure I didn’t want to ruin his surprise, but really, was it worth my well-being? And yes, the café had been dark. But nothing had precluded me from dropping by Helena and Nate’s bungalow to tell them I was heading down to the lighthouse. Nothing but my own foolhardiness. Not even Max knew I was here because I hadn’t searched him out either. I’d been reckless, and now I was going to pay for it.
Panicked, I turned and lunged for the door, my hand grasping for the metal handle. But then I froze when I heard the distinct sound of a gun being cocked echoing in the confines of the lighthouse.
“Turn around,” Ami said, her voice icy.
Out of options for now, I obeyed. As I turned to face my captor, I found myself staring down the barrel of a firearm—a .38—aimed directly at me. Behind the gun Ami smiled triumphantly. I thought about making a run for it, but there was no way I was taking that chance. The likelihood of getting shot in such close quarters was high. It didn’t matter if Ami could shoot or not. But by the confident way she was holding the .38 with both hands, I was betting she could handle the gun just fine.
“Ami,” I whispered. “Just let me go. Please.” I wasn’t above begging, not at this point.
Her eyes narrowed. “No,” she stated, sighing. “You started this with your snooping around. Always asking questions, always wanting answers.”
“Please, Ami. I won’t ask any more questions, I promise.”
She ignored my plea. “You wanted answers. Well, you’re finally going to get them.”
Sure I’d wanted answers. But at what cost, I thought. The temperature in the lighthouse felt like it had dropped several degrees. But maybe it was just the effects of the chill coursing through my body. For the first time since I’d been on the island, I really didn’t want any answers. At this point I just wanted one thing—to get out of the lighthouse, alive.
Ami began speaking again, “Like aren’t you wondering how I even got in here, Maddy?”
With the gun she motioned for me to step further away from the door. I moved a few feet to the right, still keeping close to the perimeter and far from the lit candles. God, if a fire started—which could easily happen if even just one of the many candles got knocked over—would Ami let me out? As I watched her eyes flit around the lighthouse, I noted she appeared to be as absolutely crazy as everyone said she was. So no, I feared if there were a fire, she’d leave me here to burn.
“Stop right there,” she said, smiling. “Now let’s talk. Just like old times.”
Ami was enjoying this, I could tell from her expression. I was her captive audience, in every sense of the word. She evidently wanted to talk. So I reassessed the situation. Maybe I could get her to share her story. Why had she pretended to be missing? How did she get in here? What had been going on with her and Chelsea? I had a million questions after all, and if I could keep this crazy girl talking, my penchant for inquisitiveness just might be my way out of this mess.
So I asked, “Fine, tell me. How did you get in here?”
“I bet Adam never mentioned there were once two keys to the lighthouse,” she said, her voice low and conspiratorial, like she was about to share with me the biggest secret in town.
Good God, maybe she was. Only I feared it was not about a key.
Swallowing hard, I shook my head. “No,” I answered. “He didn’t.”
“Adam had one, of course. But Chelsea had a spare made, so she had one as well.”
Yeah, yeah, so her secret lover had given her a key. I’d seen the picture, so I knew Ami and Chelsea had had something going on. My enthusiasm to play along was waning, particularly since the .38 had not wavered. And maybe I shouldn’t have uttered the next words, but I did. “Ami, I know all about you and Chelsea. So she gave you a key. Big deal.”
The gun shook in Ami’s hand, and her cheeks reddened. “That little fuck!” she screamed.
Before I could figure out who the little fuck was, cold, hard steel impacted across my cheek. For a fleeting moment, I thought for sure she’d shot me, but then I realized Ami had hit me with the gun. And, fuck, it hurt like hell.
Wiping away at the trickle of blood running down my face, I struggled to stay upright. She’d hit me so hard that the metal had cut into my left cheek, leaving a gash. And though my cheek throbbed, it was my whole head that was ringing.
Ami was pacing, the gun at her side. I shot a glance to the door, but my feet wouldn’t move. Terror coursed through my veins, holding me frozen in its grip. When the ringing in my head finally subsided, I realized Ami was not only pacing, she was talking. And what she was saying only served to ratchet my terror level up a notch.
“That little fuck,” she repeated. And then she went off. “I should have known he’d have more than one. There were more. I always knew there were more. But I thought they’d been destroyed. I paid that old, perverted bartender for all of the pictures years ago. How do you think he got the money to move to California? And the other morning, I got the final one; the one he must have given to that fucking pervert kid. But there was only one in that envelope. I’m sure of it.”
Ami
