Page 101 of Winter
Knox came back into the room. “Tyler got off a plane at Sea-Tac the evening of the fifth that’s the day you and Olly had dinner, right?”
Inca nodded, her face drawn. “Yes. God, Knox. Olly …”
She was trembling so violently that Olly put his arms around her and nodded to Knox, mouthing something at him.
He left the room and Inca sighed. “Olly, if anything has happened to him, I don’t think I can handle it. I can’t handle …”
“Ssh, ssh, ssh.” Olly held her as she sobbed.
After a few minutes, Inca dried her eyes. “Who is doing this, Olly? Who hates me so much?”
“I don’t know, sweetheart, but we don’t know what ‘this’ is yet, so let’s be positive.”
Exhausted, Inca leaned against him. “I don’t know. I just … hope he’s still alive, still okay. I couldn’t bear it if another person died because of me.” But she couldn’t finish. Olly wrapped his arms around her, but his face was serious.
“Listen to me, Inca Sardee. You listen good now. You are not responsible for everyone. You can’tsaveeveryone. People make their own decisions. Your mom did when she killed your dad. Luna shot Scarlett and you—that was her decision. Tyler, wherever he is, made the decision to fly here. You are only responsible for the choicesyoumake. I know it will take time, but you need to start now, today.”
“Start what?”
“Stop blaming yourself for everything.” They both turned to see both Raffaelo and Tommaso in the doorway and Inca realized Knox must have called them. Olly released her and she went into Raffaelo’s arms.
The police searchfor Tyler went on for days. They found his luggage in the hotel in Seattle and traced his credit card to a waterfront restaurant. Blood was found at one end of one of the piers. Inca let the police into her parents’ home and waited while they went over it with a fine-tooth comb.
Raffaelo was with her, his presence comforting, but when the police were finished, she turned to him.
“Baby … can I ask a favor?”
He touched her face. “Anything.”
She drew in a deep breath. “In my heart … I know he’s gone. I know it. And I’d like to … be alone with them for a while. Do you mind?”
“Of course not. Just promise me you’ll stay locked inside? Call me when you want me to come pick you up?”
“I promise.”
Inca watched Raffaelo drive away and now she was alone for the first time in … she didn’t know how long. She had thought it would good to have the house to herself, to breathe, to think.
She walked through the house now, lingering in each room, trying to find the peace she craved. It didn’t come.
Ghosts of the living and of the dead hung about the rooms. Inca realized that it hadn’t ever beenherhome, it had beentheirhome, hers and Nancy and Tyler’s. And now that they were gone, and any connection she felt to it was broken.
She went into the kitchen to fix herself some tea, splashing her face with cold water while she waited for the water to boil. She reached for the towel to wipe her face, her fingers knocking against the chalkboard that hung next to it on the wall. She scrubbed her face dry as the kettle began to whistle. She turned to fill her cup, then froze. Her breath caught in her throat.
A photograph she’d never seen before dropped from behind the chalkboard. Nancy, Tyler, and herself—it must have been on her birthday last year. Scarlett had photobombed them, and Luna and Olly were at the edges of the group.
A year. Just a year.
Inca took the photo and sat on the floor of her parent’s kitchen. Once again, she went over and over everything that had happened, looking for a clue that might tell her why. It was a weird sort of comfort that she could take some responsibility for Kevin’s attempt on her life, at least. But Nancy had been murdered after he had already been arrested. Luna, having admitted killing Scarlett, couldn’t have done it. So, who? Who hated her that much?
When Olly had been acting crazy, she had wondered if it could be him— Tommaso taking that restraining order out might have tipped him over the edge. But now? No. No way.
She went upstairs to her old room and lay down on the comforter. They hadn’t changed it much since she’d left—some of her old books and paintings were still on the shelves and walls. But it felt like a stranger’s room, another life, a million years ago.
She had no more tears to cry and soon, she fell into an uneasy sleep, wrapped in the comforter. She didn’t hear the intruder slip quietly through the back door, thanks to the tricky lock, and pad quietly up the stairs.
He’d seenthe bastard billionaire drive away and couldn’t believe it. He’d left her alone?Jesus …
But he wasn’t prepared for the kill. He had it all planned and now wasn’t the time … but he couldn’t waste an opportunity to be near her. So, he waited until he saw her go upstairs and gave it another ten minutes. He figured, when she didn’t come back down, that she had gone to sleep. So, he broke in; he knew of old that the back door was tricky, and crept upstairs. She was in bed, asleep.
