The boats clinked eerily together as J.D hurried along the docks. Furtively he glanced over his shoulder every few steps. He had that spooky feeling that there was someone right behind him but every time he checked there was nothing but the riggings swinging gently in the wind.

He had to get off this island. There was no doubt in his mind that there was a killer out there, and as long as everyone thought it was him they were all in terrible danger. Even in the dark he had known his way from the Sheriff's office down to the docks. He had no idea who had shot the Deputy in front of him and Shane, but he wasn't going to stick around to find out. The fact that he had not been killed too was simply luck in his mind. If he gave them the opportunity, he could easily be next.

Near the end of the dock he spotted a good sized fishing boat. One he thought he could manage on his own. With another glance behind him he sprinted over to it and began to untie the ropes that kept it at the dock.

Hushed voices from the water's edge interrupted him. A group of people were making their way quickly down the wooden boards towards him. Swiftly he slipped behind some barrels, melting seamlessly into the shadows.

Sully, Beth, Cal and Chloe shone their torches at the boats on either side of them. Veering left they walked down one of the docks towards some smaller vessels.

"We just need to pick one," called Sully.

"That's you big idea? Steal a boat?" Chloe exclaimed.

"If it gets us away from here you bet."

He shone the torch on one of the speed boats. "Okay, let's try this."

Crouched in the darkness on the other side of the docks J.D. heard their muffled voices as they boarded the boat. As they argued he caught sight of something at the end of the dock, a figure that he recognised. Glancing in the direction of the escaping party he decided to take his chances. Leaping to his feet he sprinted back towards land, towards the figure.

As he neared he slowed, breathing harshly from the frantic run. Bent over, hands on his knees, he looked over his shoulder hoping the group hadn't seen him. Thankfully his black clothing blended him well with the dark shadows.

"I don't think they saw me," he gasped as the figure loomed out of the darkness towards him.

"Well that's good then isn't it?" said Henry, smiling coldly at his younger brother.

"Please, you have to believe me now Henry. I didn't kill anyone! The Deputy, in the jail? He was killed, shot, right in front of me!"

"I know J.D. Someone else is killing people."

"It's John Wakefield! I know it has to be. Who else could it be?"

Henry gazed past his brother out over the icy water. "Mmmm...who else? He agreed.

Standing upright again J.D. became aware of shouting voices to their left. He heard his name.

"Shit! They know I'm here."

"Quickly, down there," urged Henry, pointing back towards the boats. It was only then that J.D. realised he carried a large fishing knife. Its metal blade glinted in the ghostly light cast by the moon.

"Where did you get that?" he asked, alarmed.

Henry glanced down at the knife in his hand then back up at J.D. Slowly he began to step forward. "This? Oh someone gave it to me."

Without realising he was doing it J.D. began to back away from his brother, unaware that he was transfixed by the blade pointed at him.

"Henry, you do believe me, don't you?" he demanded again.

A sinister smile broke across Henry's face. "Of course."

With that J.D. turned from his brother and sprinted back down the dock, panic flooding his mind. His breath was loud and coarse in the silence and left an icy fog in his wake. He could hear Henry's thudding footsteps behind him and knew he was getting closer.

It was pure instinct that told him to run from his brother. Left to his heart alone he wouldn't be fleeing, he trusted Henry, but something in his brain had told his legs to run, and so run he did.

Henry caught up to him when he was not halfway down the dock. Roughly he grabbed his brother by the shoulders and threw him against the side of a boat. J.D. bounced onto the wooden planks, groaning and clutching his side.

Scrambling to get away he backed himself up against some barrels, his hands held defensively out to his brother.

"Henry. Henry what are you doing?" he gasped.

"I'm claiming my birthright J.D."

"Can't you just put that down, please?"

Henry laughed coldly as he glanced at the knife in his hand. "I don't think so."

A look of horror spread across J.D.'s face. "No..." he gasped, staring wildly up at Henry. "It's you?"

The smile Henry gave him was confirmation enough.

"Bu-but everyone? Uncle Marty? He was your family!"

Crouching down before J.D Henry spun the knife playfully in his hand. "Well, apparently not, brother." Sighing he glanced away. "It's complicated. I wouldn't expect you to understand."

"Try me," said J.D. icily.

"It's a girl. Isn't it always about a girl?"

"You killed all those people for Trish?

Henry laughed bitterly. "No J.D. It was never about Trish."

"But you love Trish," J.D. cried wildly. "You're going to marry her."

"No...I don't think I will," Henry replied casually.

A beat of silence stretched between the two men, filled only with the noises of the riggings and distant shouts. Henry looked over his shoulder back at the land.

"It's Abby," whispered J.D. in a horrified tone. At the sound of her name Henry spun back to face his brother in surprise. A smile broke his face.

"Very good J.D.!" He leaned closer menacingly to whisper in his hear. "I love...Abby. And my father, John Wakefield, is going to help me be with her. Forever."

He registered the gasp of shock with satisfaction just as he plunged the knife into J.D.'s abdomen. With grim pleasure he twisted the blade, revelling in the warmth of blood pouring over his hands, and the agonised cry of his victim.

He pulled back suddenly as he heard footsteps heading towards them. Facing his brother he placed a bloody finger against his lips. Hush.

In a second he was gone, leaving J.D. lying on the wet boards, blood gushing from the wound. Gasping for breath he began to choke and sputter as blood filled his throat and his mouth. A wavering torchlight drew closer and a small, dark figure appeared.

"J.D?" Abby called in surprise, lowering the torch and shot gun and rushing over.

She stopped dead when she caught sight of the blood covering his clothes. "Oh God," she murmured, looking away. Steeling herself she crouched down next to him, concern and pity filling her eyes.

"J.D. who did this?"

He struggled for breath through the blood. Abby hovered, wanting to help but afraid to touch him.

Behind her Henry walked towards them, the blood dripping from his hands onto the wet docks.

"It's you Abby. It's all about you," J.D. sputtered, before choking once more. His eyes drifted shut as his head fell to the side. Dead.

Shocked, Abby stared numbly at his lifeless form. The creak of a board behind made her spin around. Silently she took in the sight of Henry, his hands and shirt streaked with blood and tears falling down his cheeks as he gazed at the body of his brother.