Malcolm sat up straighter behind the wheel. He’d spied a small house along the river. Behind it was an old shed, and behind the shed, right on the edge of the water, a run-down boathouse.
He turned off the headlights, then the engine, and let the Frazer coast to a stop at the end of the snowy driveway. Malcolm turned to look at her and Benjy. With the adrenaline that had been fueling all of them, momentum had been enough to keep their minds occupied. Now she saw fear in his eyes, a silent and desperate confession that he wasn’t sure what would happen next.
Malcolm said her name. She could see he wanted to say more, but all his hope and regret, all his promises, were right there on his face.
“Our time will come,” she told him. “We’ll have our chance.”
Violet wondered if she sounded convincing. Doubt gnawed at her, but there was no going back now. Only forward.
“‘The best way out is always through,’” she said.
Malcolm managed a thin smile. “Robert Frost.”
Holding Benjy, she couldn’t embrace or kiss him, but Malcolm took her left hand and brushed his lips against her knuckles—warm on her cold skin. He gave her fingers a squeeze and then glanced into the back seat.
“I’ll be a few minutes. If anyone comes out, starts trouble, give it right back to them.”
Jennie coughed to clear her throat. “You know I will.”
Malcolm stepped out, closing the door quietly, and then darted across the lawn toward the little rickety boathouse. Benjy snuggled more tightly against her, half asleep, and she knew she had to get him out of the cold soon. Herself, as well.
In the back seat, the thing that had been Maggie Wise moaned in pain.
Violet watched the house as best she could through the snow, but all the windows were dark, and she doubted anyone would be awake to spy them out the window. She thought she and Jennie must have something to say to one another, but nothing came to mind. They were both completely drained. Benjy began to snore lightly, and she felt the tension in her neck ease. The engine ticked, cooling, and she felt somehow safe in that moment, even with Maggie there in the car.
Minutes passed, but only a few, before they spotted Malcolm trudging back toward the Frazer. He went straight to the back door and opened it with a metal creak that seemed far too loud for the predawn hours.
“There’s a wooden motorboat in there, maybe fifteen feet long,” he said. “Looks like they use it for fishing. It’s hoisted out of the water, but the motor’s still attached, so I don’t know if it’s in for the winter. If it needs fuel, there are at least two gas cans, and there’s a shovel in the shed back there.”
“You really think we can do this?” Jennie asked.
As if in answer, Maggie lunged at Malcolm. With her hands cuffed behind her back, she only succeeded in crashing to the snow outside the car as Jennie scrambled out after her.
“I think it’s our only shot,” Malcolm told his sister.
They wrestled Maggie to her feet. She hissed and snapped her jaws at Jennie.
“Why don’t you sing some more?” Violet asked.
Malcolm couldn’t seem to look at her. “Maggie’s in so much pain, I don’t think we’re in much danger from her from here on.”
That might have been true, but it didn’t feel true. As Malcolm and Jennie half marched and half dragged Maggie away from the Frazer, Violet opened the door, starting to reorient Benjy in her arms so she could carry him.
Malcolm looked back. “Hang on. You and the boy need to stay here.”
Violet froze. “I’m coming with you.”
He crouched to look in through that open rear door. “Not this time. If anything goes wrong, you’ll be safer here. The gun I took from Detective Hope still has some bullets in it. I’m leaving that with you.”
“What happens if you’re attacked? You can’t do that!”
“There aren’t any Morák out there. We won’t be completely empty-handed, but the gun stays with you. Just in case,” Malcolm said. He wasn’t going to argue the point. “Wait an hour past dawn, and if we’re not back, go without us.”
Out in the snow, Maggie grabbed a fistful of Jennie’s hair and tried to drag her down. Jennie had learned how to fight, twisted her mother’s arm, and in one fluid motion managed to get behind her. She drove her onward, toward the boathouse.
“This is supposed to be a new beginning for us both,” Violet reminded Malcolm.
His gaze did not waver. “We have to finish this before we can have a new beginning.”
