I dig around in my backpack. Nothing. The tiny window catches my eye. I huff my breath on it until it’s fogged over. Perfect.

The glass is icy against my fingertip. I write our names: Milla, Curtis, Brent, Heather, Dale. I’m going to let myself temporarily off the hook and pretend Saskia’s death wasn’t my fault. Let’s say that all the secrets are true and each of us did one thing only.

So one of my friends is a murderer. I glance at the door to check it’s locked.

Okay, I need to be objective about this. The first two secrets are easy. Assuming Brent is hetero, and I’m pretty certain he is, the two people who slept with him must be me and Heather. I write slept with Brent after our names. Better not let Dale see this.

Strange how sore he was about his wife’s alleged cheating. You’d think it happened yesterday instead of a decade ago—before they were married, no less. Still, in a way I get it. Being back here with this group, it feels weirdly as though no time at all has passed.

Anyway, that leaves the three guys. One of them slept with Saskia, one of them knows where she is, and one of them killed her. This reminds me of a Sudoku. And I was never any good at Sudoku—especially not after I’ve been drinking. The food has soaked up some of the whiskey but not nearly enough.

Okay, assuming Curtis didn’t sleep with his own sister, either Dale or Brent must have slept with her. Dale and Heather got together in the second week of the season, so Brent, maybe? He’d had a bit of a thing for her, apparently, the season before I met him. But I asked him back then if he’d slept with her and he vehemently denied it. And it kills me to think of the two of them together. Yeah, she was strikingly beautiful, but she was my archrival.

Dale, then? Saskia might have slept with him just to see if she could steal him from Heather. I chew my lip and write slept with Saskia beside Dale’s name.

According to the cards, that means either Brent or Curtis killed her and the other one knows where she is.

I think of how Brent was in bed with me.

“You don’t have to be that gentle,” I told him more than once. “I won’t break.”

He’s just not violent. The only person he’s a danger to is himself.

I chew my lip some more, thinking back to the morning of the British Championships. Curtis didn’t show at the pipe until a few minutes before his heat. He’d been up on the glacier with Brent and Heather, looking for Saskia, apparently, but what he said didn’t make sense.