Page 105 of Blade

Ana was gone before Christmas, and she didn’t look back. She never saw any of them again. Mio, Jolene, Kayla.

Until the week when they were reunited to save Jolene’s daughter.

Chapter Forty-Five

Ana

Now

Maybe you killed Emile.

Artis’s words swim in my head as the car picks up speed. But the tires can’t grip the road, and they skid, making the car swerve. We slide to the right and bounce off the wall of snow made by the plows.

“Artis!” I scream. “Stop!”

I grab the wheel and push it to the left, away from the shoulder, away from Grace. And the car moves into the other lane, then starts to slide sideways.

You killed Emile.

I see my hand raised, the blade about to strike Emile’s skull—but, no. It wasn’t me.

Artis was there, with Dawn and Westin. One of them killed Emile, and now they needed someone to take the fall. Grace’s skates were on Emile’s desk—it was so easy to point suspicion her way. To enlist Shannon’s help—taking Grace’s dress. Telling the police about the video. But then they must have thought about me, back in Coloradofor the first time. Just five hours away in Aspen. Artis knew I’d killed a man fifteen years ago with the heel of my blade. Dawn had my dress.

But Grace—she heard all of them there the night Emile disappeared. She saw the blood on the floor in the closet. She recognized the car in the parking lot—and then comes another thought.

Grace didn’t know Artis’s car.

Shannon,I think. She had more to lose than anyone. Custody of her child. She knew Grace was with Emile. She’d just witnessed the fight between Grace and Tammy Theisen.

“Was it Shannon?” I ask. “Shannon killed Emile—not you. Artis ...”

Headlights come from the other direction. We both see them. They don’t slow down as we continue to slide sideways, taking up both lanes of the access road.

“Turn!” I scream at Artis. He grabs the wheel and pulls to the right, again in the direction of Grace, who is just feet away.

“No!” I scream. “It’s too late—I know what happened!”

His car starts to spin as the truck approaches, then slams into us, airbags exploding from the front and sides. Then everything stops. Dead quiet.

Until I hear Artis moan. And then voices outside.

“Ana!”

“Ana!”

Two voices, ghosts from the past. Jolene. Kayla.

They open my door, pull me out onto the ground. They lay me down in the snow, and then I see Grace standing over me, unharmed.

Kayla is on the phone, calling for help. She’s at the car, the open door. She tells Artis to hold on. He’s trapped inside, his door mangled by the impact.

I look at Grace as I begin to feel the pain in my chest.

“It was Shannon’s car at The Palace that night, wasn’t it?”

Jolene looks at her daughter. “What is she talking about?”

I hear Grace begin to tell the story she told me in Westin’s office. The closet where she showed me the blood on the floor.