The truth might be simpler. All winter, I’ve had this strange fascination with her, and here I am, closer than I ever imagined. Crazy as it sounds after all she’s done, I think in this moment I love her. Just a bit.

CHAPTER 49

PRESENT DAY

It’s pitch-dark in the freezing corridor. All my senses strain for the whoosh of air that would precede the descent of a blade.

“Nobody move!” Heather shrieks.

I back away from the sound of her voice, arms up to protect my head—though what protection my arms would offer against an axe, I’m not sure.

Something rustles behind me. I jump hard enough to send a jolt of pain through my knee.

“Put the axe down.” Curtis’s voice. How does he manage to sound so calm?

I back into him and he gropes along my arm for the screwdriver. I let him take it from me. Guess that means I trust him after all.

He steps around me and moves forward toward Heather. What’s he going to do to her?

“Why have you brought me here?” Heather cries. “What do you want from me?”

The desperation in her voice registers. I grope forward until I touch Curtis’s shoulder. I don’t want him to hurt her. “Curtis, it’s not her.”

“Milla,” Curtis warns.

I push past him, hoping I’ve got this right.

“No, Milla,” Curtis says.

I ignore him. “Heather?” I hear the wobble in my voice. “Brent heard a noise and you weren’t in your room.”

Silence.

“Brent?” Once more my voice wobbles.

“Here.” Brent sounds distant. “I’ve found two switches but nothing’s happening. Power’s off again.”

Hands grip my shoulders, making me jump anew. “Where’s that flashlight?” Curtis whispers in my ear.

“Um. In my dorm. On the floor near my bunk.”

“I’m going to get it.” He hands me the screwdriver back. “Don’t move.”

There’s a draft behind me as he leaves.

“Heather?” I say. “You’re scaring us.”

No answer.

“Curtis has gone to get his flashlight,” I say.

For long seconds, the only sound is our breathing.

Another draft behind me and the corridor lights up. Curtis stands in the doorway of my dorm with the Maglite. Heather shrinks back against the wall, fingers tight against the axe. Brent is farther down the corridor.

I step forward, hand outstretched and visibly trembling. “Heather.”

The axe slips through her fingers and drops to the floor. She sinks to the floor after it, sobbing loudly.

Brent slumps, clutching his chest. “You scared the shit out of me, Heather.”

I would crouch beside her, except I can’t bend. All I can offer her is my shaking hands on her shoulders.

“Come here.” Brent hauls her to her feet and holds her tight.

“I found . . .” Between her sobs, Heather’s trying to say something.

“What?” I say.