Darby came awake lying on her side, in a tangle of sheets and cooling air, Noel breathing softly beside her.
She hadn’t planned on staying the night. After the living room, they had moved into the bedroom for a repeat performance. Afterwards, she had allowed herself to fall asleep because the bed had a king mattress. Only a king offered a clear line of demarcation, straight down the middle, giving both parties ample room to stretch out and, most importantly for her, to sleep without being touched.
Darby rolled on to her back. She felt strangely relaxed.
So why was she wide awake at – she checked the nightstand clock – 4.28 a.m.?
She wondered if the Red Ryder was awake right now.
Darby folded her hands behind the back of her head and stared up at the ceiling, seeing the video of Karen entering the elevator and punching in the number for the top floor. She had been found inside the water cistern, and the maintenance man and the cops said there was no way Karen could have pushed aside the cistern’s top by herself because she was too small, not strong enough.
Karen had entered the elevator alone.
But was it her? You couldn’t see her face on the videos.
Could he still be alive?
She saw Karen Decker’s bloated body floating inside the water cistern. Her pulse raced and she felt sick and clammy all over.
Darby slid out of bed, not wanting to wake Noel, wanting him to sleep, knowing he needed it. Good. He hadn’t stirred. She walked barefoot across the carpet and quietly closed the door, and, as she went about collecting her clothes from the floor, she thought back to the one-night stands from her college days, her girlfriends sharing how they’d tiptoed through some guy’s dorm room or shared apartment and slinked out in the middle of the night or the early-morning hours, praying to God they wouldn’t run into someone they knew, mortified when they did. She never understood or shared their feelings. Why should she feel the least bit embarrassed or ashamed for wanting to have sex? She was the one who chose. Not the man. Her.
Noel’s phone was on the kitchen counter, charging.
Darby picked it up. When the screen came to life, asking for the four-digit password, she punched in the same numbers Noel had during their drive to Big Sky. She walked past the living room and quietly opened the sliding glass door and stepped out on to the terrace that was barely big enough for one person, the sky still dark but the world below her, with its snow-compacted trails leading to the village and the ski lifts, lit by the small white Christmas bulbs strung around the bare branches of the trees.
The mountain air was cold enough for her breath to steam. She knew her way around an iPhone and found Vivian’s contact info easily.
Vivian Whitney had six numbers. Given the early hour, Darby started with the woman’s home number.
Two rings and then a crisp and concerned voice answered the phone: ‘I’m here, Noel. What do you need?’
‘This is Darby McCormick.’
‘How did you get Noel’s phone?’
‘I borrowed it. He doesn’t know I’m calling you.’
‘For some reason I doubt that. You slept with him, didn’t you?’
‘I want you to get these bullshit charges against me dropped.’
‘I guess Noel didn’t tell you I work for the US Marshals. The Bureau is the one pursuing the assault charges. Frankly, I’m surprised you’re not in handcuffs already. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to make some calls.’
‘Why are you so threatened by me?’
‘Please,’ Vivian scoffed. ‘You give yourself too much credit.’
‘Then explain it.’
Silence greeted her on the other end of the line. For a moment Darby thought Vivian had hung up. Then the woman said, ‘It’s who you are.’
‘Oh. And who is that?’
‘Death,’ Vivian said, without malice. ‘You invite it. That’s not hyperbole; it’s well documented in your file. Everywhere you go, you leave bodies in your wake. You’re as relentless as a cancer cell, programmed to do one thing and one thing only: hurt, destroy and kill in the pursuit of your personal agenda.’
‘Doctor,’ Vivian said, ‘I see you every time I look in the mirror.’
Darby propped a foot up on the railing.
‘As far as I’m concerned, Noel is in danger as long as he’s near you,’ Vivian said. ‘I’m not willing to have him become collateral damage on your mission to find Cooper – not that you’re going to find him. He’s dead, and you know it. Goodbye, Doctor.’