Page 92 of A Killing Cold

“Did they tell you?” I ask.

“Tell me what?”

“About me. About who I am.”

“That whole thing about you being a juvenile delinquent?” she asks. “You stabbed someone, right? Which is not making this look great, I’ll be honest.”

If I trusted her, I would put down the knife. I would assure her that I meant her no harm. We would sit down together and talk.

But I don’t trust Alexis Dalton.

“No. Did they tell you that my birth mother was Mallory Cahill?” I ask. To my surprise, Alexis turns white. She staggers, putting a hand out to catch the back of a kitchen chair. “I take it that’s a no.”

“That’s impossible,” Alexis says.

“Why? Because I’m supposed to be dead?” I ask.

She gapes. “What? No. Because—because that’s crazy,” she says, but her voice is shaking. There’s something more there.

There’s a knock on the door. I peer through the crack in the curtain, keeping Alexis in view, and I let out a breath of relief when I see Connor standing on the porch. I open the door just enough to let him in, keeping myself out of sight. Immediately he wraps his arms around me.

“Thank god,” he says, releasing me. “Granddad told me you’d left, but I knew you wouldn’t have gone off alone. Where were you?”

“Tied up in Dragonfly,” I say. “Your mother drugged me.”

“Shewhat?” Connor says.

I run a hand over my head. “She gave me tea, and there was something in it. She told me you were gone—she lied. And I tried to get away, but Nick found me, and he tied me up and put me in Dragonfly. They all knew about it. Magnus, Louise. Mr. Vance.”

“But my mother wouldn’t do that,” Connor says, staring at me. “She wouldn’t be involved.”

“Mr. Vance told me… He said she had a gun. That she didn’t mean to,” I say, and my anger at Rose is nothing compared to how much I wish I didn’t have to do this to Connor. “It was an accident.”

“She…” His confusion gives way to understanding. The breath goes out of him, and he looks at me with dawning horror. “You think she killed Mallory? My mother isn’t capable of something like that. She wouldn’t hurt anyone. Vance was wrong.”

“No. He wasn’t,” a soft voice says.

I had almost forgotten that Alexis was there. She hasn’t moved from her spot by the table, but now her arms are folded tight across her torso.

“Alexis?” Connor says.

“Mr. Vance wasn’t wrong. But it wasn’t Mom,” Alexis says. She takes a shuddering breath. “It was me. I killed Mallory Cahill.”

41

She’s not an idiot. She’s fifteen; she knows what an affair is. She’s noticed her father’s disappearing act over the last few weeks. She’s heard him on the phone, making arrangements for things to be paid in ways that won’t show up on the credit cards. She saw him buy those expensive gifts and she knew they weren’t for his kids, his wife. So when Connor tells her about the woman living on the mountain, she knows exactly what it means.

She doesn’t say anything. Not at first. Not until she hears Mom on the phone.

I thought you should know, her mother says. AndI’m giving him the papers as soon as he gets home.

The papers are at the bottom of her mother’s dresser drawer. She sees them and she knows what it means. What will happen.

She has never felt like this before. Rage and despair and panic, like she’s trapped and she’ll do anything to claw her way out. Her parents can’t divorce. They love each other. They aren’t like other parents who split up—they don’t fight, they laugh together, they sneak away for a private moment anytime they can. She knows their marriage is good.Wasgood.

Which means that something has to have caused this. Someone.

The Other Woman. She’s never understood the anger the phrase provokes until now. Her father is a good man and her parents’ marriage is strong, so it has to be this woman’s fault, and everything will be okay if only she’s gone. Her mother isn’t going to do it. Rose Dalton bears hardship gracefully. She smiles; she says,We will get through this, as if that’s the only option.

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