Page 84 of The Most Wonderful Crime of the Year
When he heard the sound, he thought his life was over, but it wasn’t. It was just splitting in two. A clean break. A fresh start. And he’d been so much happier, there on the other side.
Or so he’d thought. Because, on the other side, there was Maggie.
Maggie.
Ethan blinked and cursed himself because he didn’t have time to stand there, thinking about crashes and blizzards and a pair of headlights that were only in his mind. Except—
It wasn’t apairof headlights—just one shaky beam shining up from the greenhouse, and it was very, very real.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Ethan
The door wasn’t wedged shut anymore, so at least she hadn’t gone by herself through the tunnels. But as Ethan approached the greenhouse, he remembered that finding Maggie was only half the battle. He had a lot of explaining to do, so he threw open the door and didn’t waste a single breath.
“Maggie, I know how it looks—”
But Maggie was nowhere to be seen. There was just the narrow beam of the flashlight, shaking and jerking around the room, as unsteady as the voice that said, “Go away.”
Ethan started around the row of tables, but stumbled to a stop when he saw her lying on the cold, hard floor. She was bleeding and shaking and—
The flashlight was behind her back. Becauseher handswere tiedbehind her back. She was scooting away, a look of absolute terror in her eyes.
“Stay back. Stay back. Stay...” Her voice was rough, like she hadn’t used it in ages. Like that was where she stored her tears and she was getting ready to make a whole new batch.
“Who did this to you?”
“Stay back!” she warned again, and Ethan swallowed down the bile that filled his throat.
He had to keep his voice calm. He had to make her see— “It’s okay. You’re safe now.” Even when she winced against the glare of his flashlight. Even when he saw the blood on her temple and the crooked squint of her eyes like she had a concussion. Because of course she had a concussion. Someone had hit her on the head and bound her hands and carried her there.Someone was going to come back. “Don’t freak out. It’s me. Ethan.”
“That’swhyI’m freaking out!” she shouted and in spite of everything Ethan bit back a grin because she was still the funniest, smartest, most challenging woman he’d ever known. And he loved her.
Ethan had never used that word before. He’d never even thought it. But somehow, he’d always known that it was true. Just like, right then, he knew he had to get her out of there.
“I’m going to untie you, okay?” She winced but looked away. “Please, sweetheart. Can you turn? Please?”
She’d scooted as far as she could and sat, huddled in a corner, on a bed of dirt and snow. Someone must have knocked the nightshade plant off the table because it was lying on the ground beside her. The ribbon was gone, though. The ribbon was—
She turned, and he saw it.
The ribbon was wrapped around Maggie’s wrists and forearms—around and around like pointe shoes on a dancer’s legs. Was this some kind of sick joke? Was she supposed to be some kind of present? Ethan didn’t know and he didn’t have time to find out, so he searched the cabinet until he found a knife. He held it loosely in his hands as he inched toward her.
“I’m going to cut you free. Can you turn a little more for me?” She did. “Good girl.”
“Are you calling me a dog?”
“Not even a little bit.” He bit back a smile and, with a deft flick of his wrist, she was free.
The red ribbon fell away and she climbed to her feet, still a little too unsteady. Still bleeding. Still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
He bent down and picked up the wrinkled ribbon and shoved it in his pocket.
“If you make a joke about how I’m your present...” she started.
“Oh, I’m not in a joking mood.” Not with her scanning the room like she’d never been there before—looking at him like he was a stranger. She was going into shock, but he had to know—
“What happened?”
