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Is he okay?

Prishna glances over her shoulder. “Don’t try to move. It’s useless.”

“Why ... why, Prishna?” My voice is weak and gritty. It’s hard to think, to speak, let alone piece together what the hell is happening.

“You were completely unexpected, Sabine.”

Prishna’s tone is eerily calm, which is even more unsettling. Whatever plans she has for me, she’s confident in them.

“The moment you showed up at the lake house, I began observing you. I’d arrived hours before Astor thought I did. Immediately, I wanted you gone. I knew you’d be a distraction. I knew you’d fall in love with him, just like my sister did, and every other damn woman who crosses his path.”

“You did it all, didn’t you? Put her picture in my room, the dolls, you cut my hair ... told me he was still in love with her ...” Another wave of nausea rolls over me. My God, this is awful.

“Yes, and when scaring you away didn’t work, I figured I’d make Astor think you were going crazy—just like Valerie did—and he’d send you away, just like he did her.”

“My hair ... you cut it to spook him because you knew his daughter’s hair was cut on the day she died, didn’t you?”

“Her name is Chloe,” Prishna snaps.

“You’re a bitch.”

“No, I’m a survivor.”

“Why do you have me now? Where are you taking me? Just kick me out of the car. Let me go; you’ll never see me again.”

She shakes her head with a chuckle.

“Why not?”

“Because I realized I could use you.”

“How?”

“Do you remember me telling you about my childhood?”

I vaguely recall the conversation Prishna and I had on the patio when she told me her mother discarded her for not being a boy. That she grew up in an Indian orphanage, with very little, before she was adopted by Valerie’s parents.

“Being thrown away by my parents had a profound effect on me—I know this from all the therapy I was forced to go through in rehab. I turned to drugs to cope; eventually got addicted to heroin. I don’t remember half my life. You see, Sabine, every child needs a fair shot in life—and it begins with a loving parent.”

“I don’t understand what this has to do with me.”

“When Astor and Valerie had Chloe, she was discarded as well. Not in the same manner as I was but discarded emotionally. Valerie had severe postpartum depression, and Astor worked all the damn time. He was never around. Chloe had no parents. So, I stepped in and mentally adopted Chloe, just like I’d been adopted, and I raised that beautiful little girl. I raised her. Without me, she wouldn’t have had a fair shot at life.”

Prishna’s tone darkens.

“Because of my sister’s and Astor’s negligence, Chloe died. She died, Sabine, at five years old. I’d given her a shot at life, and they took it all away. Valerie and Astor have blood on their hands—it’s all their fault.”

“I’m sorry, Prishna, but?—”

She continues as if she hadn’t heard me. She’s emotional, distant. Mad.

“I carry that little girl’s picture around with me all the time, her ashes in my suitcase.” Prishna’s voice is trembling. “I wouldn’t have stayed sober without that little girl. She was my everything. I miss her so damn much.”

So, it was Chloe’s ashes in Prishna’s suitcase.

She bangs her fists against the steering wheel. “And she’s dead because of their negligence!”

The vehicle shifts, and we begin climbing a steep mountain.

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