Page 25 of Cold as Hell

“I killed a guy and got away with it. I don’t think I’m the audience for that question.”

“But that only means you’re very unlikely to do it again,” Dalton says. “You slipped up and spent half your life drowningin guilt. In Sebastian’s case, he knew what he was doing. But he didn’t get away with it either.”

“He didn’t try, from what I understand.”

Dalton sighs. “We got the strangest people in Rockton, didn’t we?”

“Yep, and then we hired them all on as staff for our non-evil new town. But yes, Sebastian didn’t try to get away with killing his parents. He knew the price. He decided it was worth the risk. Same principle here. If he attacked Kendra and got caught, he’d be sent south, which he really doesn’t want. He could take off back to Felicity and the First Settlement, but if we told her what he did, she’d kick his ass out.” I readjust the furs on my legs. “Which is talking about why I think he couldn’t do it, and I want ways he could have.”

“That’s my job, advocating for the dark side. Okay, possibility one. Sebastian attacked Kendra and then, with her confusion, made it seem as if he was rescuing her.”

I shake my head. “She spotted himwhileshe was being dragged. There’s no confusion about that.”

“Yeah, also, why drug her and then rescue her? I can see some twisted fuck doing that for hero points. I can even see Sebastian manipulating a situation to get something out of it.”

“Sociopathy 101.”

“But what would he want from Kendra? Nothing I can see. Maybe something from the town? Again, not that I can see.”

“Sebastian doesn’t want anything except to stay for as long as he chooses, and he’s in no danger of being kicked out. So there is no plausible chance that he was both attacker and rescuer.”

“Possibility two. He was the one who drugged Kendra, and that’s why he was outside. He was waiting for her to come out.”

“And someone else took advantage?”

Dalton throws up his hands. “Maybe? I’m playing advocate without a law degree here. Cut me some slack, Butler.”

“He was outside walking Raoul. Kendra saw the dog, so that part is confirmed.”

“Raoul could have been the excuse, in case Sebastian was caught.”

“No one saw Sebastian in the bar that night.” I pull more furs over my legs. “Overall, while ‘drugged her and someone else claimed his prey’ is a possibility, it’s very remote because, again, we can’t see a motive. So let’s set it aside. The related theory would be that Sebastian was working with her attacker. He supplies the drugs. The other person doses Kendra. They’re both hanging around to grab her. His partner gets to her first. But Kendra sees Sebastian, so he has to play rescuer.”

“Could work,” Dalton muses. “Even better if his partner doses Kendra, and when Sebastian sees who the prey is, he changes his mind. He likes Kendra. As a person, that is. The problem still goes back to the first issue, though. What would be his motive and could we imagine him doing this?”

I shake my head. “I really can’t. I hate saying that about anyone. I’ve been wrong before.”

“We both have. But if we combine not being able to imagine it with the complication of him being the one who rescued her?”

“The chances it’s him seem next to nil. So we presume the attacker found out about the temazepam and stole it. That’s easily done while the apartment is empty, and the pill box wasn’t exactly well hidden. We…”

I trail off as I see I’ve lost my husband’s attention. He’s turning slowly, gaze up.

“Eric?”

“Fuck.”

I notice it then. I’ve been fussing with my furs without realizing why—because the temperature has plummeted. My cheeks are cold, and I have every fur wrapped around me. I follow Dalton’s gaze to the nearby mountain. The top is gone, lost in dark clouds.

I echo Dalton’s curse. This is one thing about living near mountains. The weather can seem fine, and then it’s as if the storm peeks out from behind it. The wind has also shifted to the northwest, blasting cold through the thick forest.

“We okay?” I ask, trying to sound calm while being very aware that I’m stuck in a sled pulled by a dog.

“Yeah, we’re fine,” he says. “But it’s time to get back. Come on, pup. No rest break today. I’ll help with the pulling.”

We beat the storm to Haven’s Rock. Dalton doesn’t exactly run, but he does move faster. While the danger of being caught out is minimal, he doesn’t want anyone—mostly himself—thinking he’d taken a risk with his heavily pregnant wife. It’s a reminder to me that I’m not the only one living under the looming shadow of future guilt. There’s a rock precariously poised above us both—the chance that something will go wrong and we’ll blame ourselves.

By the time we reach Haven’s Rock, snow is falling. It’s light, but carried on a sharp wind that warns of worse to come. Once we see our chalet, Dalton picks up the pace even more, leaning into the rope and pulling hard enough that I need to hang on tight.

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