Page 84 of A Killing Cold

“Mom, she’s—Olena—she’s dead,” he says.

Rose gives a cry, her hand going to her mouth and her eyes still flicking from Trevor to me, back to Trevor, trying to fit the pieces together. I’m still holding Connor’s hand. We could go. Walk out the door and leave. But it’s already too late. Louise appears at the other doorway—“What is going on?”—and then more footsteps, people flocking to the sound, and there’s no escape now.

“Olena’s dead,” Trevor says again, his voice a wreck. “She’s just—she was just lying there, and—” He chokes, gestures desperately in the general direction of the woods. “I don’t know what happened. She was with me, and then…”

“Oh god,” Rose says softly, but she isn’t looking at Trevor, she’s looking past him, and all of us turn.

Irina stands in the hall. Her hands are in front of her face, as if she is trying to hide, to cover her eyes, to blot it all out. Her whole body trembles. And then she begins to scream.

Louise is the first to move. She covers the distance with surprising speed and gathers Irina against her. Irina’s cries draw anyone who wasn’t already here. Confusion and fear thicken the air. Alexis grabs Paloma’s hand; Paloma lifts Sebastian up as if getting ready to flee, and Nick looms behind them.

Irina’s screams taper off. She sags against Louise, murmuring something raggedly. “It isn’t true,” I hear. “It isn’t true.”

“What is going on?” Magnus asks. He stands in the hallway that leads to the bathroom and the study.

“It seems there was some kind of accident. Olena is dead,” Louise says. Every time the words are spoken out loud, it somehow seems less real.

Trevor, haltingly, explains. Alexis and Paloma draw together, hands interlaced. Irina weeps quietly in Louise’s arms.

When Trevor is done, Magnus looks at the ground for three solid seconds. And then he nods. “Louise, take Irina upstairs.”

Louise nods. Gently, with an expression of practicality and focus, she guides the other woman to the stairs. Magnus waits until the sound of a door closing on the second floor before he continues.

“Trevor, take Connor and Nick to Olena. We’ll be told not to move anything, but find something to cover her with, at least. I’ll call the sheriff and the coroner and see what they want us to do. Alexis, Paloma—you should take Sebastian back to Red Fox. Rose, see Theo to the study; she can rest there.”

“I can go back to White Pine,” I say immediately.

“You’ve had a shock. You shouldn’t be off on your own,” Magnus says briskly, not inviting disagreement. “And as you were with Trevor when Olena was discovered, the sheriff may have questions.”

The sheriff—if the sheriff is coming here, surely that will be its own form of protection. And a possible ride out of this place.

Rose takes my arm, her grip kind and unyielding. I glance at Connor; he looks helpless. There’s no reasonable way to object. Nowhere to go, if I did. And so I surrender.

The seconds tick by on the clock above Magnus’s desk. It’s been an hour since Rose left me here. I have no idea what’s going on. No one has come to get me. No one has spoken to me at all. I stare at the door and wonder if it’s locked. I don’t see a reason yet to try, but I take a mentalcatalog of the objects in the room that are heavy enough to serve as a weapon.

Olena is dead. Someone killed her. Because they thought she was me.

It isn’t the only explanation. But the way I figure it, it’s the only one that matters. Because if it is true, then I cannot afford to disbelieve it. It explains Nick’s shock at seeing me in the foyer.

There’s a polite knock on the door, and it opens before I can respond. Rose again. She has a mug in her hands. “I thought you could probably use some tea,” she says. Her eyes have that shiny, trying-not-to-cry look.

“Thank you,” I manage. Everyone has been speaking to me like I’m made of spun sugar. Maybe it’s useful, to let them think that my silence is me falling apart, instead of trying to make a plan.

I accept the mug and take a sip. It’s overly sweetened, but I bend my lips in a grateful smile. The heat, at least, is welcome.

“I thought about bringing you something stronger,” Rose says. Instead of leaving, she moves farther into the room. She half sits against the desk, hands cupping her elbows. “I’m sorry that we sort of forgot you in here. We’re all in shock, obviously.”

I wet my lips, trying to think of how to respond. “You shouldn’t be worried about me. Irina must be an absolute wreck.”

“She’s being taken care of. Louise gave her some kind of sedative, to help her calm down,” Rose says. “I can’t imagine.”

“You don’t have to imagine, though,” I reflect. Slowly I sip the tea. The sweetness is growing on me.

She frowns, as if she hadn’t thought of this. “Because of Liam? I suppose. Though at the time I was so angry with him, it was… complicated.”

“You were filing for divorce,” I say.

Her lips thin. “Trevor,” she begins, and stops. “But yes. I had the papers drawn up a few days before he died. I had discovered he was cheating on me, which I think you know.” She says it matter-of-factly, folding her hands. I flush.

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