Jane retraced her steps from the overlook, her movements deliberate. She had one crucial piece of stage management left. She found Alejandra's phone lying in the grass where it had fallen from her hand, its glittery case winking in the moonlight.
The screen was cracked but functional. Jane's hands were steady now, no longer mimicking fear. She grabbed a leaf to avoid leaving fingerprints and pressed Alejandra's dropped designer hairpin against the screen to navigate.
Jane opened the camera app. She took three blurry photos of the trees and the rocks from the edge of the overlook, angling them to look like someone stumbling around in the dark, capturing the "beautiful" view.
Then she opened the messaging app. She started a new text to Kolby.
This place is trippy. You should see the view.
She didn't send it. She left it in the draft box. It suggested intent-that she was exploring, that she was high or drunk, that this was an adventure gone wrong.
She wiped the phone clean with her sleeve and tossed it over the edge. It clattered down the rock face, landing a few feet from where Alejandra's crumpled form lay. It would be found with the body, a perfect digital breadcrumb trail leading to a tragic, stupid accident.
A twig snapped in the woods nearby.
Jane froze, her heart hammering against her ribs. She melted back into the shadows of a large pine, her breath held tight in her chest. An owl hooted. Just an animal.
She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. She checked her clothes. No blood. Just dirt.
She began to move, not back toward the manor, but on a parallel path through the woods, circling toward the hunting lodge. It was a brutal trek through the undergrowth. Her muscles burned, her lungs screaming for air. She clawed her way up a steep embankment, digging her fingers into the mud.
When she finally reached the manicured path leading to the Lodge, she collapsed behind a hedge for ten seconds, gasping. She checked her watch. 12:45 AM.
The first pawn was off the board. Alejandra was neutralized, a problem for doctors and lawyers now, not for her.
Jane turned toward the Lodge. Her legs felt heavy, but her mind was racing ahead. Alejandra was the easy part. Alejandra was predictable.
Kolby was a wildcard. Kolby was armed.
Jane reached into her sleeve and touched the packet of powder. The muscle relaxant mixed with whatever opioids Kolby was already on would be a lethal cocktail. But she couldn't just hope he overdosed. She needed to be the hand of fate.
She started walking toward the distant lights of the hunting lodge. The night was far from over.
