Audrey had ruined too many things for me already; I couldn’t let her take my career, too. I had to do something. Think, Cat, think. How could I prevent the truth about Emily Snow from emerging?

Hiding Audrey’s body was out of the question. I wasn’t a criminal lawyer, but I had watched enough Law & Order to know I would never be able to completely rid my apartment of the evidence. A murder investigation would begin and end at the base of those stairs.

But what if it was just an accident? It was plausible. Those stairs were a hazard under the best of conditions, and Audrey had been wet. I glanced around the room and noticed a half-empty wine bottle on the kitchen counter. Of course. Audrey had been drinking, she was in the bath, and she had fallen. It was tragic, but sometimes life was.

It would have been a perfect explanation, if not for Max. He couldn’t be here. He was unpredictable, and, more than that, he was the connection to what had happened at camp, the reason that Audrey’s accident would seem like something more sinister. My only shot at salvaging this awful state of affairs hinged on extracting Max from the situation before anyone learned he was there.

“When did this happen?” I asked. “Have you called an ambulance?”

“I just wanted to talk to her,” he said, still stroking Audrey’s face.

“That’s a nonresponsive answer,” I snapped. “Tell me: Have you called 911?”

“No,” he said hollowly. “I was trying to stop the bleeding. My hands were … But you. You can call. Now.”

I looked down at Audrey, so pale and still in his arms. There was so much blood, even more blood than … I had to turn away, a lump forming in my throat.

“Max, it’s too late.”

“What?” he said blearily. “No. No, it can’t be. We can save her. We just have to—”

He began shifting Audrey’s body in his arms, reaching one bloody hand into his jeans pocket for what I assumed was his phone. Panic leaped in my chest. I couldn’t let him make that call, not until we were on the same page.

“Max,” I said as sternly as possible. “No.”

“Are you out of your mind?” he demanded, looking at me incredulously.

“Look at her,” I commanded. “No one could recover from a head wound like that.”

His expression turning vicious, he snarled, “And you know something about head wounds, don’t you?”

“Now is not the time—”

“I know what you did,” he growled, leaning forward while still clutching Audrey to his chest. “Emily Snow didn’t just happen to fall off that trail. She didn’t stumble and wind up brain damaged. You pushed her.”

I shook my head quickly, automatically. “No, I didn’t.”

“I saw you, Cathy. I saw you.”

Something snapped rubber band–like in my brain, and I struggled to keep my voice level as I said, “That’s impossible.”

He laughed coldly. “Is it? Because I twisted my ankle at the start of that hike and had to wait for the rest of you to finish. Do you remember?”