My fingertip settles on Curtis’s name. Killed Saskia, I write. I’m going to wipe this off quick in a minute because I would hate him to see. What about what he said in the corridor? It could be a clever lie to throw me off his scent.

So Brent knows where Saskia is. Why would Brent know? Did he see Curtis kill her? Did he help Curtis hide her body? Where? They didn’t have a car out there, so I don’t see how they could have gotten her out of the resort. Which means she must still be here. Somewhere on the mountain.

Goose bumps come up on my arms once again. There are a lot of things about Saskia’s last hours that don’t add up. I for one never told the full story, and I sense I’m not alone in that.

I stare at what I’ve written. The letters are running. Water trickles down the glass like tears.

So many assumptions. Have I got it right? This isn’t about how we are now. It’s about how we were back then. I close my eyes and try to remember.

CHAPTER 16

TEN YEARS AGO

I wake in Brent’s bed with his strong, lean frame curled around my back. I’m wearing one of his Burton T-shirts and it smells of him.

I roll over. It’s so warm at his place. The radiator beside the bed cranked out heat all night and all he has on is a pair of Calvin Klein boxer shorts. The brands Brent used to model for have been quick to sponsor him, and I wonder if he has to pay for anything right now.

I trace my finger across the packed, tight muscles of his chest. God, that body. An athlete in his prime.

Brent’s dark eyes open and he smiles lazily. “Morning.”

I continue my exploration, down his taut stomach. “You have the most gorgeous skin.” My fingers look so pale against it.

He reaches to the bedside table for his watch, a chunky metal Omega. There’s a one-page advert in the Sunday Times supplement of him pulling some huge Backside Air wearing it. The retail price is probably more than my entire season will cost.

“What time is it?” I say.

“Eight.”

The lifts open at eight thirty, and I’d normally be getting ready for riding by now, but we didn’t get to bed till after midnight, sneaking up here once most of the others had gone. I strain my ears for sounds from the kitchen. Is Curtis up?

Brent straps his watch on and I see the tattoo on his forearm again. Go big or go home. I touch the letters. “I love this.”

“It’s to remind me who I am. I never want to get old and boring.”