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“I don’t know anything about that,” he said, squeezing his wrist.
“You don’t? The three of you came here to ‘get to know’ Sandrine, your older sister, and by the end of the week, someone’s been murdered and one of you is missing. I’m trying to do that math, Brian, but it’s not adding up.”
His forefinger worked under the edge of his glove and then beneath the sleeve of his coat. “You think I know what happened to Meg and Taryn?”
“I think you know something.”
His forefinger found the scar and rubbed across it.
He met her eyes. “I don’t know anything about what happened to them. I didn’t kill Meg and I don’t know what happened to Taryn. You think I’m not worried about her? She’s my big sister! She’s my family. My real family!”
Josie pulled herself up another step, crowding him now. “Taryn seemed far more attached to Sandrine than to you or Nicola.”
“So what?” he said irritably. “It wasn’t a contest! I’m not the one who got pissed off about how close she got to Sandrine.”
“Nicola didn’t like it,” Josie said. Nicola had been downright nasty to Taryn as the week progressed although Josie thought that was part of an act they were all putting on to cover their true motives.
With the tip of his gloved finger, Brian picked at the scab on his scar until a small bead of blood appeared. “If you really want to know what the plan was for this week, you need to talk to Nicola. She had different reasons for being here than us.”
Before Josie could respond, shouting came from below them. Josie couldn’t make it out at first but she knew it was coming from the other side of the main house. Grabbing Brian’s arm, she dragged him to his feet and pushed him down the steps. “Let’s go.”
They took a wide berth around the front of the main house as they fought their way back to the rage-room building. The voice calling out became clearer. Alice. She was yelling Josie’s name, and by the high-pitched waver in her voice, something bad had happened.
Josie nudged Brian along, trying to hurry the pace. From the door of the rage room, Alice lurched toward them, one arm wrapped around Sandrine’s waist, holding her up. Blood was splattered down both their coats.
Brian stopped in his tracks, staring at them. “What the hell happened?” He looked behind them. “Where’s Nicola?”
Alice glared at him. “She attacked Sandrine.”
“What?” Brian said. In spite of what he’d just implied to Josie about Nicola, he seemed surprised.
“She stabbed Sandrine with a piece of broken glass,” Alice said.
Sandrine dropped to her knees. Alice could no longer hold her up. Keeping her eye on Brian, Josie knelt as well and looked Sandrine over. “Where are you hurt?”
“It’s superficial,” Alice said.
Sandrine held up her hands, showing a large, bloody slash across one of her palms. Below that, there were more slices in her coat. Luckily, the weapon hadn’t penetrated the thick fabric.
“She’s in shock,” said Alice.
She was right. Sandrine’s breathing was labored. Her lips were almost blue. When Josie touched her cheek, it was cold and clammy. She pressed her fingers to Sandrine’s throat and could barely feel her pulse.
“It’s Nicola,” Alice said, her eyes on Brian. “She’s the killer. She’s crazy. Out of control.”
Josie leaned in and spoke softly into Sandrine’s ear. “Is that what happened? Nicola attacked you?”
Sandrine nodded.
Brian said, “Where is she now?”
“Where do you think?” Alice snapped.
Pushing past them, he rushed through the doors of the rage room.
Alice slid an arm under one of Sandrine’s armpits. “We need to get her out of the snow.”
Josie looked around. The closest option was the shed, but Meg’s body was inside, and she didn’t want it disturbed. So much had already been lost in the past forty-eight hours. “Where?”
