Gabe was waiting on the other side of the fence, stomping his feet to keep warm. There was no sign of Ben’s motorcycle, although that didn’t mean he wasn’t here.

I grabbed my hat and flashlight and got out of the car. Gabe held open the broken chain-link fence, and I ducked to get through. I stumbled, letting my body fall against Gabe’s. He lifted his arms to catch me, allowing me the second I needed to slip Violeta’s scarf into the pocket of his black parka.

“Thanks,” I said. “Have you seen Ben? We have to hurry.”

“No, I just got here.”

I put a hand on his arm. “That girl, Beatrice. She’s dead. Nate told me they found her body this morning.”

Gabe darted a glance up at the warehouse, looking worried.

“Do you think Ben…” I hesitated, leaving the sentence unfinished.

Gabe didn’t answer. I tugged at the thick wool of my scarf, nerves needling the skin at my neck and chest. The cold was already biting at my fingers.

Did I really think Ben was capable of murder? Yes. But Beatrice’s? It just didn’t make sense. And anyway, what could I do if he had?

That familiar feeling of helplessness washed over me in short, sharp bursts.

“Gabe?”

Gabe ran his fingers between his forehead and his beanie hat. Tufts of blond hair stuck out underneath. His beard was thicker now, his eyes sunken and dark. “Ben’s a lot of things, but I don’t think he’s a murderer. Maybe she overdosed.”

I let go of Gabe’s arm, nodding. “You’re right.”

I flicked the flashlight on, and we crossed the parking lot, snowflakes igniting like fireflies in the beams. Our shoes crunched against the broken glass. Our feet seemed to instantly melt the snow, forming muddy little footprints.

The rumble of the falls sounded very far away now, the snow muting it, turning it to a gentle murmur. White drifted slowly from the leaden sky, covering the trees and the ground in a fine, glittering coat as we circled the building.

My phone buzzed from my pocket. I put a hand on Gabe’s coat to stop him. “Hello?”

“Emma, where are you?” Moira’s voice was loud, panicked. She was crying, hot, moist sounds hurtling down the phone line. “Something’s wrong. Josh’s temperature went up really high, and all the machines started beeping, and then he started having a seizure. The doctors rushed in and pushed me out of the room! I don’t even know what’s happening! Where are you?”

“Oh my God.” My blood curdled, her words piercing me like a twisting dagger. “Where is he now?”

“He’s still in his room.” Okay, I thought, not moved is a good sign.

“What’s wrong?” Gabe asked.

“Josh. He’s had a seizure.”

“Is he okay?”

“Who’s that?” Moira asked, sounding suspicious.

“It’s… Nate.”