Page 94 of Blade

Ana took a step back, away from them as they sat at the table.

“No,” she whispered. And again. “No.”

“Ana ...” Dr. Westin said. “I know this is a shock. Maybe it will help if we explain what happened.”

“No . . .”

“Just listen,” Dr. Westin said. His voice was calm. Clinical.

“Indy drank the chemicals in that bottle—the DMSO mixed with morphine—a powerful opioid,” he said. “The DMSO accelerated the absorption into her bloodstream,” he explained. “It’s not clear if she was trying to make herself feel better, or if she was trying to hurt herself. But either way, she was a troubled young woman. I think you know that.”

One light off and another switched on inside her head. A shift, a sudden awakening. None of this was real. Indy wasn’t dead.

“You’re lying!” Ana screamed, backing away from the table.

Emile reached out for her again. “Just sit down,” he said. “Let us help you.”

But Ana’s feet were moving the other way, and she ran back toward the foyer and the front door. And all of them followed.

Emile got there first and blocked her from leaving. He held his hands in front of him like he was confronting a cornered animal. Dawn and Dr. Westin stood there. Watching.

Each of them said her name.

“Ana ... calm down,” Dr. Westin said.

“Ana ... let’s go back to the table,” Emile pleaded.

“Ana ... be a good girl now,” Dawn said.

The dam broke, letting loose an eruption. “You did this to her!” Ana screamed. “You killed Indy!”

“Ana—calm down!” Dawn ordered. “I did nothing but support her! I fought for her appeal ...”

“That’s a lie!” Ana screamed, tears soaking her face. “You gave her that bruise! You’re the one who reported her! Everything that happened is because of you! You killed her!”

Emile and Dr. Westin both looked at Dawn, waiting for her defense to the allegations. But she said nothing.

“How did you know what she was doing? Who told you?” Ana demanded, still trapped, with Emile at the front door. Dawn and Dr. Westin behind her.

She looked at each of them, searching their faces for answers. It was then she saw a look pass between Dawn and Emile.

“You? Did you tell her?” Ana asked.

Of course he did,she thought. Hugo was his best friend. And Hugo was the one who’d first given Indy that clear plastic bottle.

“No,” Emile lied. “I didn’t know anything about it.”

But Ana knew the truth.

Emile had told Dawn and she’d reported Indy and now Indy was dead. And all Ana could think was to run.

Pushing past Emile, out the front door, into the frigid air, into the darkness that had descended since they’d arrived, around the back of the house to the tree line of evergreens and bare maples, and to the woods and down the mountain.

Run.

Dr. Westin ran after her, trying to keep up.

She reached the field, Dr. Westin’s voice behind her, the headlights of a car out in front. Emile’s car. He got out, walked closer, while Dr. Westin approached from behind.