Page 82 of Blade

She flew into the air, then began to spin, making the rotations. One, two, three and a half turns, and then catching the right toe pick, the back edge.

“Perfect,” Ana said with a gasp, wiping a tear as everyone jumped to their feet. Years of falling, injuring her body, longing to go home—and now she’d done it!

Patrice buried her face in Paul’s shoulder and wept, actual tears, while Sally bounced up and down. Ana held a hand to her mouth, the relief about to explode out of her.

Indy skated as the buzz quieted, people taking their seats. Holding their collective breath. Waiting to see if she could pull off the rest of the program.

Dawn crossed her arms and tilted her head, a slight smile pulling at the corners of her mouth, and this time not a smile that took great effort to make. This one seemed to come in spite of efforts to contain it.

Ana followed Dawn’s gaze across the ice, where two women in the judges’ row stood and walked away from their seats and then down the stairs to the boards. They wore officials’ badges around their necks and jackets from the USFS. What were they doing here?

The music played on, blending “The Music of the Night” and “All I Ask of You” and “The Phantom of the Opera,” until Indy had landed all but one of her jumps. She doubled out of the last triple toe after a triple flip, but it was still a completed combination, and at the end of her program, giving her more points. And then her final pose, a big smile, and a wave to the far end of the arena, where Bobby Stark had been watching the program with some of his students.

Ana saw her face tremble because now that it was over, and she’d landed the Axel, and no doubt won the senior division, paving her way to Nationals, and from there a chance at the Olympic team, an Olympicmedal, her family’s sacrifice and commitment not going to waste, her mind gave way. Calm, focused concentration melted into a flood of emotions that caused her to collapse into Dawn’s arms, because those were the only arms available. Ana knew Indy would hate herself for it later. But Ana also knew how powerful Dawn’s embrace could feel. The giant weed with all its roots and branches.

But their embrace was interrupted by the two women with the badges, who led Dawn to the side, speaking gravely with lowered eyes, causing Dawn to listen intently, a mask on her face.

But then she turned toward Indy with a look of—what? Shock? Disgust? Betrayal? Indy, eyes wide, face almost melting, shook her head in disbelief.

And then Dawn turned her back away from Indy and the women. Ana stared at her face as it changed again to a smile, the same kind she had seen just that one time, when Dawn had smacked Indy’s bruise with her skate guards. Only this one was even bigger. More pronounced. More definitive.

With the unmistakable look of revenge.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Ana

Now

Slowly, I get up off the ground. Rise to my feet. Take a few steps back from Grace.

“It’s okay,” I tell her. “I know—you must be pretty scared.” I look behind me and see the two chairs that face each other in the center of the room. It’s still the same, all these years later. The place Westin used to have us sit for our sessions. He always took the chair facing the door. We would sit in the other one, facing his desk.

“I’m going to sit down now,” I tell her. I walk to the chairs and take the one for the skaters. Grace stays pinned against the wall to the left of Westin’s desk.

“I came here alone,” I tell her. “I walked from the condo. I followed your footsteps. But we don’t have long.” I point to her unlaced boots. “That bracelet around your ankle. They know where you are. Attorney Frauhn—and the police.”

Grace looks at her boots. I can see that she didn’t realize the implications of it when she ran away.

“Please,” I ask her. “Just sit down. Tell me why you don’t trust me. Why you don’t think it’s safe. I want to understand what I’ve done.”

Grace looks around the room, thinking about what to do. I’ve seen this before. She feels trapped. Alone. Like there’s no way out. And yet she didn’t run away. She came here, to The Palace. There has to be a reason.

“You don’t have to sit,” I tell her when she doesn’t move away from the wall. “We can just talk. You stay where you are, and I’ll stay here. Okay?” And then I begin, building a bridge the way I’ve been trained to do.

“Can you consider the possibility that there are things you don’t know? Or that there’s more to the things that you do know? More facts. More circumstances. With me, but also with your mother,” I ask. “Whatever it is that has made you not trust her, that can be true—right alongside the fact that she loves you.”

I give this a moment as her face softens.

“All of these things can be true. All at the same time,” I say again.

She pushes away from the wall and takes one step forward.

“You must be tired. Just sit down. Take Dr. Westin’s seat. You know how much he would hate that.”

I see the acknowledgment on her face. We’ve both been in this room for sessions with Westin. It’s one small thread connecting us. But it’s enough to make her take the short walk to the chair. She sits across from me on the edge. Ready to bolt if she needs to.

“Let’s talk about the day Emile was killed. Can we do that?”