“I thought she was dead, just like everybody else. I can promise you that.”

“What happened when she came back?” Zach asks. “Did she threaten to finally expose you? Had she worked up the nerve to do that?”

My elbows ache where they touch the tile. Zach towers over me, but his certainty and anger strike a deeper chord within me—a chord of injustice. He accuses me in my own home, asserts his right to come in and attempt to dominate me.

“You’re out of your mind,” I say. “You’re the one who attacked Madeline at a party. Did you follow her when she got back to town? Kill her at the cemetery? You’re the one they should be after.”

His face changes. The anger wanes, only to be replaced by confusion. He drops his chin, flexes his hands like they’re weapons he’s keeping loose and ready.

“How do you—” He stops himself. He snorts. “That girl from the university. Is she one of your students?”

“You got physical with Sophia. You assaulted Madeline. You’re the guy with a reason to hurt them both.”

“Okay, so I got a little handsy with Madeline. I had too much to drink. It happens. I probably had too much today.”

“Do you have the book?”

“The what?”

I roll to the side, and he stumbles. I use the opportunity to kick with my right foot, which connects with his left knee, causing it to buckle.

Zach grunts, his face contorted by pain. I kick out again, but this time I strike only a glancing blow. He recovers his balance and shakes off the pain. I hoped the kick would incapacitate him, but he keeps coming. And with greater fury.

He swings at me once and then twice. He connects with the side of my head. I try to cover, to get my head out of the way of his blows. But he manages to pin my left arm and swings away again and again.

For a moment, I’m able to turn my head, avoid taking the blows directly. But he keeps swinging. And connecting more and more.

And then it’s like I’m walking down a dark hallway, and the sides are narrowing until there’s only a faint circle of light far ahead of me.

And even that starts to dim.

I think the blows stop.

Or maybe I just can’t feel them anymore.

Whichever it is, the light goes out. . . .

PART III

CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

MADELINE

SPRING, TWO YEARS EARLIER

For three blocks, Madeline walked behind Dr. Nye.

For a drunk guy, he walked awfully fast. It was a cool night, late March and just starting to feel like spring. Heavy rain had fallen earlier, gushing through the gutters and down the sidewalks, but everything was finally clear. Stars shined above, and a quarter moon sat directly overhead. The night smelled like rich earth and growing things.