Page 11 of Girl Anonymous

There she was, Béatrice, close to the ambulance parked on the lawn. Sitting on her knees, placing an oxygen mask on her face, taking it off and giving a shriek, putting it back on again.

Drama queen. This wasn’t about her. It was about—

Maarja’s gaze shifted to the crowd of EMTs leaning and kneeling and speaking in concentrated tones…around a woman’s sprawled body.

Gaze fixed, she clutched the banister in both hands and moved down the stairs. A woman’s body in a green T-shirt dress.Mrs. Arundel’s unmoving body.Her legs were akimbo, her limp armshad been pulled away from her chest. They were giving her oxygen, using a defibrillator.

Maarja didn’t understand. “What’s…happening?”

Nate stood, arms crossed over his massive chest, observing. In that ponderous voice, he said, “They’re working on her. They might bring her back.”

“Bring her back? From…?”From death?“What? No!”

He scrutinized her as if surprised by her outburst. “Mrs. Arundel was a fragile woman. Surely you observed that.”

“She felt strong when I dragged her. She—” Maarja sprang forward, ready to aid the medical team. Distantly, she knew she wasn’t qualified, but—

Someone grabbed her from the side, stopping her headlong rush.

A man. A man held her.

She punched him in the ribs, twisted in his grasp.

With her skills, she should be free. She wasn’t. She looked up, saw the dark wavy hair, the scarred face. Dante. It was Dante.

He held Maarja with both arms wrapped tightly around her. He dragged her away from the house, toward the fence. “Maarja. Maarja. It’s all right. You did the best you could. It’s all right. You tried, but she was too fragile.”

Maarja strained against him, struggled to go to Mrs. Arundel. “What do you mean? Your mother? She’s not…”

“She’s dead.”

Maarja froze. “She…is…not! She’s not. I saw her. I heard her. She was fine. You carried her. I heard you two talking.”

In the background, she heard Béatrice shriek in between breaths. Glass broke as explosions rocked the house. People shouted in the streets as more and more police were needed to control the crowd, as more and more fire personnel in turnout suits streamed through the now open gate dragging hoses and equipment. One of the reporters used the confusion to slide intothe compound and, still filming, focus on the EMTs around Mrs. Arundel.The bastard.

And Béatrice’s periodic shrieks, slamming like bullets shot from the world’s most irritating rifle.

Dante looked into Maarja’s eyes, sympathy in his gaze. “She knew she was dying. She knew you saved her from the flames, and she thanked you.”

“I don’t want thanks.” Maarja lunged toward the EMTs as they placed Mrs. Arundel on a stretcher and covered her face with a sheet. “I want her to be alive!”

He gripped her, turned her head, pressed her face against his chest. “She died in my arms.”

“No. No, she didn’t.” Maarja still fought in disbelief. “You’re lying!”

“Maarja, it was her heart.”

“No, she didn’t die. No, she didn’t. She can’t die.” Maarja began to collapse, every hope broken, every grief reinforced. “She can’t die. She can’t.” Tears smashed through the suspicion and heartbreak, and she sobbed out loud. “I tried so hard…”

CHAPTER 5

Of course, it didn’t matter how hard Maarja had tried. What mattered was…what was.

Mrs. Arundel was dead.

After the ambulance had left with her body, Dante called the EMTs over to check Maarja. She found herself flat on her back receiving oxygen, having someone peer into her eyes and listen to her heart. She was diagnosed with shock, hooked into an IV, and given a drug to calm her.

“Who do you want me to call?” Dante asked as they placed her on the stretcher.

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