forty-five

Somehow I make it to a window seat. I don’t remember moving there. I don’t remember lowering myself onto it. One second I’m staring at that ring and standing in the middle of the room. The next I’m sitting on the window seat, and Jude’s crouched in front of me, one hand holding mine, the other supporting me as I sit.

And then I’m crying, so hard it physically hurts, like someone reaching into me and wrenching my insides out. It’s the worst kind of sobbing, my body starting before the tears do, and it’s dry, ugly, racked sobs as my whole body heaves. And then Jude’s not crouched there. Not holding my hand, and I think he’s gone. He’s retreated. Left me to my grief. Fled my grief. But it’s only one split second from when he lets go of my hand until his arms are around me and he’s holding me tight.

And then I cry. Really cry. The tears come and they keep coming, and I can’t say a word, can’t think a thing, can only cry.

Cadence is dead.

My sister is dead.

I have refused to consider this possibility since the moment I considered that Edie might not be the only one who’d disappeared from Reeve’s End. I’ve told myself Edie and Lennon are a separate case and we don’t have someone kidnapping and killing teens from Reeve’s End. Edie’s case just made me think of Cadence. That’s all. Even when I let myself think something might have happened to Cadence, I would not allow myself to even consider the possibility she wasn’t alive.

And now I have the ring she wore when she left. The ring she never took off. Bound in a dog’s bloodstained kerchief.

Your sister is as dead as that dog.

I killed that dog. And I killed her.

So I cry. I cry and I cry and I cry, until I’m raw and I’m empty, and when I move back, Jude crouches in front of me again, holding both hands now, tight in his.

“We are going to the police, Winter. I am going to make them listen. I swear I am.”

It takes me a moment to respond. I don’t want to respond. I want to say thank you and hug him, and maybe break down a little more, if I have any of that left.

But I can’t. No matter how broken I feel at this moment, I’m still Winter Crane. Logical, pragmatic Winter Crane.

“How will we make them listen?” I say. “That ring isn’t proof. I’m the only one who paid enough attention to know Cadence was wearing it when she left. We still have no proof Edie was taken. They’ll say she was eighteen and free to leave. Then there’s Lennon, who apparently texted your mother yesterday. The police will talk to the Reeve’s End sheriff’s department, who will say I’m making the whole thing up, as I have been from the start, and now I took my sister’s ring from the trailer and planted it in my purse. This psycho knows what he’s doing. He knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s made damned sure no one believes us, and now he’s watching us run about in a panic while he laughs at us.”

Jude is quiet for a moment. Then he says, “Someone planted that ring. When’s the last time you looked in your purse? When I gave you the book?”

“No, I just shoved that in. The last time I looked was in the bathroom before the party.”

“Right. You couldn’t find your lip gloss so you dumped everything. The dog’s kerchief wasn’t in there. Someone put it in your purse at the party. But I was right beside you the whole time. No one else got…”

He trails off as we both realize the answer.

“That man in the conservatory,” I say, and my heart starts pounding hard. “He mentioned my sister. He said I wasn’t like her. Then he acted as if he’d thought I was someone else. He was taunting me. Telling me he…” I swallow.

“And now we have something,” Jude says. “We finally have something.”

I grab tissues from my purse and clean my face as best I can. Then Jude has my hand in his and he’s moving fast. We don’t slow until we’re in the main room. The party is still going. I can’t believe it’s still going. My sister is dead. The world has not stopped turning. Even a party did not pause.

Mr. Bishop sees Jude and he starts to smile. Then he catches Jude’s expression and strides over to us.

“Jude?” he says. “Is everything—?”

“Can I speak to you? It’s important.”

“Of course.”

Mr. Bishop leads us toward the conservatory, but Jude says, “Out here, okay? We could use some air,” and takes us through an exterior door that opens to a front patio garden. There are wrought-iron chairs, set up bistro style, as if for morning coffee, but when Mr. Bishop pulls out one for me, Jude shakes his head and we stay standing.

“Something happened with Winter earlier,” Jude says. “In the conservatory. A guest made a pass at her.”

“What?”

“I walked in as it happened. She handled it. He stormed past me before I realized what I’d seen. I wanted to go after him. Winter asked me not to. She didn’t want to raise a fuss. We went upstairs to talk about it, and I’ve convinced her that we at least need to identify this man, so he’s taken off the guest list.”

“Absolutely. And I’ll do more than strike him from the list. You didn’t recognize him, Jude?”

Jude shakes his head. “Winter couldn’t find the light switch, and the guy certainly didn’t offer to help. The room was too dark for me to know if I’d recognize him.”

“Can you give me a basic description?”

I tell him everything I can remember, and Jude adds what he can. As we’re talking, I think I hear the patio door open. But when I glance over, no one steps out. A minute later, I look again to see Mrs. Bishop, halfway hidden by the shrubbery. She hesitates only a moment before continuing forward, saying, “Is something wrong?”

“One of our guests cornered Winter in the conservatory,” Mr. Bishop says. “Jude has convinced her to come speak to us.”

“The man had been drinking,” I say. “I didn’t want to raise a fuss.”

I expect her to say I’d misunderstood. Or, worse, I should be flattered. But instead she looks…Shocked? Dismayed? Even a little horrified? Then she says, “No, you certainly should say something, Winter. I heard you describing someone. Was that him?”

I nod.

“Would you know him if you saw him again?” she asks.

“I think so.”

“Then let’s look around. Peter? I was coming to say that Clive Wilson just stopped in after another engagement. I know you were hoping to speak to him.”

When Mr. Bishop hesitates, Jude says, “We’re fine, Dad. Thanks for taking Winter seriously.”

“Of course. I’ll go speak to Clive, then, and your mother will help with this. When you find the man, I want a word with him before he leaves.”