Chapter 7
Henry
sat down at the bar when he caught himself pacing the tight confines
of the boathouse. It was getting dark and everyone's nerves were on
edge. Like the rest of them, the waiting was driving him crazy. They
had been in the boathouse for hours and the killings continued.
Jimmy's boat had exploded with him on it and Shane had told them
about them about the cops being shot. Then Maggie, the wedding
planner, who thought because she was a local that the killings had
nothing to do with her, had foolishly left the boathouse to go home.
She was wrong. Dead wrong. Now, every time they looked out the front
window they saw her, swinging from the neck by a rope. Henry guessed
the sick bastard called himself having a sense of humor.
At least they now had a plan: Sully and Cal had left in Nikki's car to go to the other side of the island to get the boat Cal had rented. Although Henry didn't think the plan or the boat had a snowball's chance in hell of working, he went along with it. They had to do something. If they didn't try, they'd continue to be sitting ducks, plucked off one by one.
***
Abby was relieved when Henry finally sat down. The floorboards creaked ominously with each step he took and kept interfering with her thoughts of Jimmy. Jimmy was dead and either her dad had killed him or her dad had been killed. Just like her mom. So, what did she have left? Nothing. Even if the remaining people inside this room got off the island, and it turned out that her dad was the killer, none of them would want to have anything to do with her. She wouldn't even be able to count on Henry who had always been her best friend.