Page 45 of A Killing Cold

“You’re never a bother,” she tells me. “What’s up, babe? You sound dreadful. Don’t tell me you’re ready to flee in terror from the one percent already.”

A sound escapes me—a horrid, animal whimper like a wounded dog.

“Theo?” she says, startled. “What’s wrong? Did Connor do something? Do I have to murder him for you? Because you know I will.”

My back teeth clench. Yes, Connor did something. But so did she. “Harper, Connor asked you about me, didn’t he? Before the party. He asked you to invite me. To introduce us.”

“What’s this about?” Harper asks carefully.

“It’s about you lying to me,” I snap. “I’m right, aren’t I? He asked you to introduce us. And for some reason you never told me.”

“He asked me not to,” Harper says with a nervous little laugh. “He said it was, you know, the Dalton thing? He didn’t want you looking him up before he actually got to make a first impression. Apparently there have been a lot of girls over the years—guys, too, even the ones who didn’t want to sleep with him—who got all weird when they found out how much money he had. He’s sensitive about it. Then, I don’t know. It got awkward to bring up. I wasn’t—it wasn’t really alie. I wasn’t hiding something. You liked him. I thought…”

I suck in a breath, anger washing through me, followed by the faintest edge of relief, because this sounds exactly like Harper. She’s never been known for thinking things all the way through, and she wants more than anything for people to be happy. This is exactly the sort of thing that she would convince herself was an innocent omission.

But that doesn’t let Connor off the hook.

“Harper, the thing is, I think he knew who I was,” I say.

“Right. Because I told him. He saw that photo of you. The one where you’re a total smokeshow? He is not the only one who asked foryour number, let me tell you. Just the only one I thought was worth my baby girl’s time.”

I shake my head, even though I know she can’t see it. “No. I mean before that. Way before. I know this sounds crazy, but when I got here, it all felt familiar. And there’s this cabin that no one uses anymore, and I was just looking around and I found—”

I stop. I’m talking so fast I’m not making much sense, words running into each other.

“There was a photo of me,” I say, slow and deliberate. “As a child. Before the Scotts. It’s a photo of me with Connor’s father.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Harper says, baffled.

“Except it does. Because I was here,” I say. “I’ve started to remember things. Find out things. My mother—her name was Mallory. She was having an affair with Connor’s father.”

“What? Ew, wait, does that mean—”

“No,” I say quickly. “No, I was already around. But he stashed her up here, apparently. And then he died, and she just dropped off the map completely and no one can explain where she or her daughter went. Me. Where I went.”

“Theo,” she says. She’s worried. “That’s a pretty wild story.”

“I know, but I promise you it’s true,” I say.

“Okay.” She’s skeptical but trying not to show it. She’s doing a shitty job.

“Something happened up here—something they’re not telling people. My mother wouldn’t have just abandoned me. I think—I think something happened to her.”

I see the image again—her feet, sticking out from behind the car door. The scarf fluttering free of my hands.

I was so afraid.

Liam Dalton died here. His death was an accident, Connor says, but I’m beginning to doubt that. Liam Dalton is the monster from my dream. He did something to her. To us.

Or did she do something to him?

“You know that based on what? A photo?” Harper is asking.

“It’s more than a photo. I’m starting to remember things. From before.”

“And you’re sure.”

Doubt creeps through me, a scuttle of tiny insect feet.

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