Page 45

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The lodge is a beacon in the night. Every light is on, and through the vast picture windows I can make out figures in the living room. We’ve turned off our flashlights, but the light reflecting off the snow is enough that if they look toward us, they’ll see us.

“You ready?” I ask Connor.

“Nope,” he says, and keeps walking.

They’re all in the living room when we enter. Everyone but Sebastian—even Paloma is here, standing in the corner of the room with one shoulder against the wall and a glass of purplish wine in her hand, her thoughts clearly a million miles away; I wonder what Alexis told her. Then Louise looks up and her eyes widen, then narrow.

“What the fuck?” Trevor says; Rose gives a cry. Alexis reaches for her drink, hand trembling, and Magnus does not move at all, sitting in his place of primacy in a wingback chair.

“Oh, good. Everyone’s already here,” Connor says. “Sit down, Mom.”

“You’re hurt.” She’s on her feet, reaching for him.

“Rose, sit down,” Magnus says. She looks at him, back at Connor, conflicted. Then, obedient, she sinks down to the couch.

“Trevor, you too,” Connor says. Trevor is standing behind the couch. With a look of indifference that almost conceals the flicker of concern in his eyes, he rounds the couch and sits between his mother and sister, crossing an ankle over his knee and winging his arms out over the back of the couch in a faux casual pose. I can see the pulse at his neck, beating fast.

“Where is Nick?” Magnus asks.

“Not here,” I say. Magnus’s eyes narrow, but I’m not ready to give him a conclusive answer.

“Connor, what’s happening?” Rose asks.

“What’s happening is that this family has been keeping too many secrets for far too long, and it’s time to get them out in the open,” Connor says. He looks to Paloma. “Is Sebastian okay?”

“Sleeping upstairs,” she says.

“You can go, if you want,” I tell her. She isn’t part of this.

“I think I’d like to stay,” she says. Everyone else is seated—Rose, Trevor, and Alexis on the couch, Louise and Magnus in the chairs to either side of it. Quite the tableau.

“Well?” Louise snaps.

“Okay, I’ll start.” I step forward. “My name is Theo Scott, but it wasn’t always. I was born Rowan Cahill. Mallory Cahill was my mother.” It feels important to say it out loud; it feels sacred.

“Holy shit,” Trevor says, mouth dropping open. Rose lets out a noise and covers her mouth, but it might be an act. Louise and Magnus don’t look surprised, and of course Alexis isn’t, either.

“Mallory Cahill? That was…” Paloma begins, brow creased as she recalls the name.

“Liam’s little mistress,” Louise says, fingers tapping on the arm of the chair.

“That’s a lie,” Connor growls.

“Connor,” Rose says softly, “I know that you have never wanted to believe it. I know that you loved him. I did, too. But good people make terrible mistakes sometimes.”

“Connor’s right. Liam wasn’t sleeping with my mother,” I say. To Alexis, I add, “Those photos you found. He helped her take them so that she’d have proof of what Nick was doing to her. He was hiding her until she could figure out where to go next.”

“No. That can’t—” Alexis says. Conflicting needs war within her. If her father wasn’t having an affair, one kind of pain is eased. But that means that her anger that day was utterly misplaced. A senseless thing made all the more wretched.

“He didn’t tell you, Rose. He didn’t tell anyone. Because he was trying to keep her safe. Which you knew, didn’t you.” I look at Magnus. At Louise.

“I won’t let you say these things about my son,” Louise says. “Nick would never—”

“She’d tried to leave him before,” Magnus interrupts. His head is bowed, hands laced. “He nearly killed her. Threatened to kill you.” His eyes lift to mine, and something passes between us. Acknowledgment, maybe. It’s time for the truth, and we both know it. “Liam was setting her up with a place to go under a new name.”

“I thought it was her fault,” Alexis says, almost a whisper. “I wouldn’t have… I didn’t know.”

Rose turns to look at her, but it’s Paloma who speaks. “Lex, what did you do?” she asks, voice hoarse.

Alexis stands. Her hands twist together. “I came—I was just going to talk to her. I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“Alexis, we don’t need to do this,” Louise says.

“Yes, we do.” I step forward. “Alexis, tell them.”

She draws a ragged breath, steels herself. “I drove up here. I brought Dad’s rifle. Mallory was here. We argued, and I—I shot her.”

Rose lets out a moan. Paloma braces a fist against her stomach, drawing in a sharp breath.

“You understand why we didn’t tell you the truth,” Louise says to Rose. “Alexis made a mistake. A wretched, terrible mistake, one that we have tried to stop from causing any more suffering.”

“You covered up a murder,” I scoff.

“An accident . One that could have destroyed Alexis’s life, too. Or would the world have been a better place with her sitting in a jail cell this whole time?”

“Alexis, it’s really true?” Rose asks in a soft voice. Alexis nods miserably.

“You didn’t know?” Connor asks, giving her a hard look.

“Of course not.”

“But you drugged Theo.”

“What?” She looks so genuinely startled, I have to believe her.

“Oh, don’t be absurd,” Louise scoffs. She brushes the air with a dismissive hand. “I made the tea. I took care of things. The way they should have been taken care of years ago.”

She rises to her feet. Connor tenses, but I put a hand on his arm. The last thing we need to do is start shooting.

“Now listen. It’s true. Mallory was murdered. And Liam, rest his soul, couldn’t face the truth of what his daughter had done, and he killed himself. But we cannot change what happened. We can only decide what to do now. Let’s consider what we have here. Theodora Scott. A young woman from a troubled background with a history of violence, promiscuity, and criminal behavior. A woman who has targeted and harassed our family, seduced Connor, invented this wild story.”

“She’s not—” Connor begins, but I stop him.

“No. Please, Louise. Finish,” I say.

She huffs a breath. “What I am saying is that we have a choice about what story we tell here. Is it the one that lands your daughter— your wife,” she adds, flinging a glance at Paloma, “in prison? Not to mention maybe the rest of us for covering it up. Or is it a story about a disturbed woman who infiltrated our home? Concocted a wild fantasy. Tried to blackmail us. A violent woman who went so far as to murder Olena.”

“Olena fell,” Trevor says, straightening up.

Louise looks smug. “The autopsy will find that she was struck multiple times. And the police will find evidence clearly linking Ms. Scott to the crime. As well as a confession.”

In the form of a suicide note, no doubt. “So that was the plan?” I ask. “Tell me. Was it your idea to kill Olena, or did Nick do that all on his own?”

“He thought it was you, you little bitch,” Louise snaps, and Rose gives a small gasp. Trevor is watching his grandmother intently. That pulse point at his neck is thudding away.

“Where is Nick?” Rose demands.

He stepped in to help, after Liam died. She relied on him. He was her friend. Her ally. A father to her children. I wish that I didn’t have to do this.

“He’s dead,” I say.

“No,” Louise says, a flat denial. “No. He—he isn’t, he—”

Rose lets out a sob. Trevor growls. “Good.”

“Trevor,” Magnus says warningly.

“Didn’t she just say he killed Olena? He was, what, beating that woman? Which shouldn’t come as a shock to you, Grandpa, given that it’s your lawyer helping him get out of doing the same fucking thing to his wife,” Trevor says. “Uncle Nick, what a fucking hero. Great guy, shame about the bit where he loves to hurt women.”

“You’re one to talk,” Alexis snarls.

“I never meant to hurt Kayla,” Trevor snaps. “Olena was—she was sweet. She didn’t deserve this. Nick—fuck.” He jams the heels of his hands against his eyes.

“You’re sure,” Rose says.

“Mom, he shot me,” Connor says. He gestures to his arm.

“That’s a lie,” Louise insists, but her voice is high and shaky. “He wouldn’t have hurt you. This was to protect the family.”

“He killed his own brother,” I say.

“No,” Louise says. “That’s absurd. Liam killed himself.” She looks at Magnus. Her hand grips the arm of the chair, blanching her knuckles white. “Liam killed himself, you told me that.”

“Epidural hematoma,” Connor says. “Dad died of a blow to the brain. I saw the report. There were no wounds that could have been suicide.”

Alexis swallows. “You said they lied. But why would they—”

“They told you it was suicide to keep you quiet,” I tell Alexis. “To make it all your fault. But it wasn’t just the two of you up there. Nick was there, too.”

Alexis’s face is blank. Uncomprehending. Paloma reaches for her, but Alexis doesn’t seem to register it—and then all at once her knees buckle. Paloma lunges just in time, catching her and lowering her to the floor. She holds Alexis against her chest, shushing her like a child, but Alexis isn’t making any sound at all, her eyes fixed wide and her body trembling.

“Magnus,” Louise says, and for the first time I see a hint of fear in her eyes, of things slipping away from her. “That isn’t true. Is it?”

Magnus leans forward, wincing as if in pain. “They fought. Liam took a blow to the head. It was unintentional.”

“Bullshit. He could have lived if he’d gotten help,” I say. “Nick watched us. Liam fell and he wouldn’t get up and I didn’t know what to do, so I stayed with him in the snow. And I could see Nick standing there. Waiting for us to die.”

Louise’s hands flutter, as if attempting to grasp at something invisible. “Magnus,” she says again, as if she’s pleading with him to deny it, but he looks perfectly calm.

“It was over when I got there,” Magnus says. “I did what I could to limit the damage. Including not sharing information that would only hurt people.”

“But telling Alexis that her dad killed himself because of her, that was fine?” I shoot back. Magnus interlaces his fingers before him and offers no answer.

Louise lays her palms firmly on the arms of the chair. She stares into the distance for a long moment, and then she squares her shoulders. “None of this changes what we need to do,” she says deliberately. “We have to protect our family. We need—”

“Oh, fuck you, Grandma,” Connor says. The whole room falls to shocked silence. “Protect our family? You mean protect our reputation. Protect a killer.”

“I mean that we need to protect your sister. Alexis,” Louise says.

Alexis is still kneeling, but she’s upright now. Paloma’s arms are around her loosely. Alexis’s eyes are fixed on the floor. Her jaw clenches. I can imagine what she’s thinking. She’s not her grandmother. She doesn’t want me dead. But still, there’s that voice, that instinct for self-preservation.

She killed someone. You don’t just get to walk away from that.

“If we make the right decisions here, this is a tragedy, not a disaster,” Louise says. “Think about the consequences if all this gets out. Or we all agree on what happened, and—”

“No,” Alexis says. Her eyes look sunken, ringed with dark circles. “I’ll confess. I’m not going to go along with it any longer. I never should have.”

“Don’t do this to yourself,” Louise says. “To your family. You—”

“Lou,” Magnus says. She falters. He stands up. Connor tenses, but Magnus only puts his hands in his pockets and looks around at everyone, as if taking in the scene. “I’d like to speak to Theo alone.”

“Like hell,” Connor says.

Magnus meets my eyes. I think part of me has always understood Magnus, the way that he has always understood me. “It’s all right,” I say. Connor looks bewildered, but Magnus nods. He holds out a hand, a genteel gesture to usher me out of the room.

“We can speak in the study,” he says.

“Theo, what are you doing?” Connor keeps his voice low. I squeeze his hand once.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be right back,” I tell him.

He doesn’t stop me. Neither does anyone else. Behind us, the room is deathly silent as I exit, Magnus following behind.