After she disconnected the call, she looked up at the man as if seeking his approval. He gave her a nod. “See? All you have to do is follow my instructions.” Her eyes were red, her cheeks wet with tears, so the man pulled a tissue from a box on the nightstand and handed it to her. Then in his gentlest voice he said, “You need to stop crying.”

She looked up at him with what he thought might be appreciation, and she nodded. Maybe she finally believed him that this was nothing more than a business transaction. He had handed her a tissue. This wasn’t his fault; he was just doing his job.

Outside, the night sky was starting to give way to the encroachment of day. He had accomplished step two of the plan—get her to trust him. Now on to step three.

“Are you okay now?” he asked.

She nodded and blew her nose into the tissue.

“Can you show me a smile?”

She looked puzzled.

“I need you to look like nothing is wrong—like it’s just another day.”

She nodded and forced the corners of her lips up. It would have to do.

“That’s good.” He stood and stepped away from the bed. “Now, Sandy… it’s time to go wake up Pip.”

CHAPTER 4

Max was woken by the nightmare, the same one he’d been having for three years now. But this time, something had changed. He sat on the edge of his bed, trying to understand why his heart hammered so hard. He’d been on the frozen Canadian lake with Mikhail again, his hands and toes numb, the wind hitting his face like sandpaper. Night had fallen and he was turning the auger on the last of the eight holes he needed to drill to make an opening in the ice big enough to push a man through. He’d turned and turned the auger but the ice seemed to grow thicker beneath the dull blade. Mikhail lay tied up in the snow, laughing at Max.

Sometimes Max would argue with Mikhail in his dream, lay out the proof of Mikhail’s crime, only to have Mikhail deny what was so obviously true. Other times he would beg Mikhail to confess. Still others, he drilled his holes in the ice in complete silence, knowing that there could be only one outcome—Mikhail’s death.

This time, a small rabbit had watched as he dragged Mikhail to the hole, standing on her hind legs, her front paws folded together for warmth—or maybe in prayer. Max often woke before the moment he sank Mikhail through the hole, unwilling to relive those last few seconds, but on those nights when the dream persisted, he would push Mikhail through the hole only to see Jenni’s eyes looking back up at him.

But this dream was different from all the others, because as Max watched Mikhail sink, it wasn’t Jenni who looked up at him. It was a child.

Shaken, Max walked out of the bedroom as the first light of morning bled into the dark sky. He gripped the loft’s rail, closing his eyes and trying to conjure the exact image that had jolted him from sleep.