‘Oh, hi Sofia.’ I checked the lights on the phone, and I’d definitely dialled 2. Maybe I’d misread the blinking light before; Sofia couldn’t have called me and been in my chalet at the same time. ‘Sorry, just checking you made it back all right. Being night and all. Wouldn’t want you to wander into a crevasse and miss the family reunion.’

‘You call this a family reunion? Seven people?’ She laughed and the phone crackled. ‘Pfft. White people.’

I tried to laugh with her, but I was in my head about how normal we were pretending to be, which stiffened me right up, and so I only managed a strange, strangled grunt.

‘Okay, Ern,’ she said. ‘Thanks for checking in. Promise me you’ll think about it?’

I didn’t have to promise – I could think of nothing else – but I did. We said goodnight and I hung up. I finished my beer, left the curtains open for the sunrise, and climbed into the loft. I rolled onto my side and looked out at the sharp ridge peeling into infinite sky and felt very small. I wondered what everyone else was doing right now. Sofia, like me, halfway up a mountain, thinking about a bag of money; Erin, in an itchy-sheet motel somewhere halfway on the drive, thinking about God knows what; and Michael, looking at the same sky through a prison window for the last time, maybe thinking about what he’d like to do to me.

I dozed off, somewhat short-sightedly hoping it would all work itself out tomorrow.

CHAPTER 6

When I woke, there was a steady flow of puffy jackets walking past my window. They seemed to be heading towards a small huddle, a few hundred metres further up the slope on the snowed-over golf course. Maybe thirty people. A snowmobile zipped past the congregation, engine whining. Someone further up the hill waved their arms. I couldn’t tell if their meaning was over here or stay back. A flare snaked a luminescent trail into the sky and popped, the crystal-laden ground reflecting the red glow. Light travels well across snow and, as the flare faded, I noticed the snow was still shimmering: not just red, but mixed with blue. Not shimmering, flashing; reflecting a set of coloured lights that must have been by the guesthouse. Police.

I scorched my hands in a fireman’s slide down the loft’s ladder and started shoving the money back into the bag. Luckily, people’s attention appeared to be solely focused up the hill and I was able to get the money packed and back in the cupboard, and some pants on, before anyone saw anything they shouldn’t have. I finished dressing as fast as I could, pulled open the door and spied the only person on the mountain wearing jeans walking past.