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“It’s not that easy. We’d have to pack up camp, and that takes time. Also, you haven’t eaten since last night. Don’t even think about attempting the descent without something in your stomach.”

“Yes, mom.” He rolled his eyes.

“Well, someone has to mother you, before you run out of here without your boots on.” Nat caught what she’d said and winced. A few members of the Dyatlov group had been found in their socks. “Sorry.”

He patted her leg. “It’s okay. I knew what you meant. Can you ask Lana to come here and take a look at me? She seems to be an expert about this altitude stuff.”

At the sound of Lana’s name, Nat’s throat closed. How on earth would she break the news? The amiable blonde hadn’t just been his friend, but also the closest thing he had to a doctor out here. Not that it had kept her from abandoning him, Nat thought with a twist of bitterness, immediately followed by guilt. Lana had been terrified of her own death. She’d done what she’d felt was the right thing to ensure her survival. Too bad it had gone so horribly wrong.

Hell, for all Nat knew, Lana might not have written the note in her tent. Steven could have written it to cover his tracks.

She’d never been able to keep anything from Andrew. “What is it?” Eyes widening, he propped himself up on his elbows. “Please don’t tell me she’s…”

Not trusting herself to speak, Nat nodded. Safe in the security of their friendship, the tears she’d been holding back since the gruesome discovery began to fall.

“Fuck. Oh, fuck. No! What happened to her?”

Craving comfort, she lowered herself beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. “I don’t know. She was pretty bruised, and her hands were frozen into fists, like she died fighting. Her body was posed, just like Anubha and Joe’s.”

“To recreate another Dyatlov victim?”

“Yeah. Zinaida. And whoever killed her did a much better job this time.” She bit back a sob. “Oh, Andrew, it’s been awful. I don’t know who to trust, who to believe. Is it one of us who’s doing this? I can’t imagine why, but if not us, who else? And Igor found Joe’s knife in Steven’s bag, and it’s covered in blood. I don’t know if I can deal with this anymore.”

“Hey. Hey.” He lifted his shoulder so her head rolled slightly. “You can and you will. You have no choice. You have to get us out of here. You’re the only one who can.”

“What are you talking about? Vasily is the guide. I can barely keep up.”

“Vasily’s the guide, but you’re the leader. You can’t give up. These people are counting on you to see them safely home. I’m counting on you. You can break down when we’re off this godforsaken mountain, but not before. All right?”

“But how am I supposed to keep everyone safe when someone in our group is a serial killer?” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Igor was with us at the other camp when Joe and Anubha died, so that lets him off the hook. The two of us are obviously above suspicion…”

“Clearly.”

“That leaves Steven and Vasily.”

Vasily is a suspect now?”

“I don’t know, Andrew. Like I said, I can’t trust anyone.”

“I honestly can’t see either of them doing it. Plus, if they’d taken on Lana, they’d be marked up.”

“That’s what Steven said. But I’m not comfortable placing my trust in him.”

“Do you really think he did it? He’s a bit of a douchebag, but that doesn’t mean he’s a killer.”

She ran the possibility over in her mind. The Ted Bundy School of False First Impressions aside, she thought it unlikely. And the mountaineer was right—he had no motive. That she knew of. But since she hadn’t known he was Cliff until Andrew had told her, anything was possible. Perhaps there had been more conflict bubbling underneath the surface, conflict she wasn’t aware of. Nat pictured Joe’s ferocity the evening he’d lunged at Steven with his filleting knife. It had been so out of character for the soft-spoken trapper. And bizarre that he would have blamed the mountaineer instead of the most likely culprit, a wild animal.

But what if there were a history, something hidden that had passed between them? Then Joe’s seemingly over-the-top reaction might be more understandable. Nat wished she had thought to ask him while she’d still had the chance.

“No, but if he didn’t do it, then who else? Vasily? I can’t see it.”

“Maybe Vasily wants to scare the tourists away from Dead Mountain.”

“Maybe.” Nat remembered the gaunt face of the guide when she’d first met him, the tears in his eyes as he’d thanked her for the work, saying that now he’d be able to provide for his family. Before today, it was the last time she’d seen him emote more than your average turnip. Why would he destroy his sole source of income? The remainder of the winter promised to be long and brutal.

Unless again, there was something she didn’t know, some crucial bit of information being withheld from her.

 “Steven could be so obsessed with what happened to his aunt that he’s recreating those crime scenes, whether consciously or subconsciously,” she said.

“We’re not living in a Hollywood production, Nat. Don’t you think that’s a tad far fetched?”

“Hey, everything okay in there?”

It was Steven. Why the hell couldn’t he leave them alone?

“Yes, we’re fine,” Andrew called, and before they could move, Steven poked his head inside the tent. Nat pushed herself away from Andrew and sat up. She wasn’t ashamed of cuddling with him, but that didn’t mean she was comfortable with anyone else seeing it. But she was too late. She saw the look of shock that flitted over the mountaineer’s face before he regained composure.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You’re not interrupting anything.” She hated the snarl in her voice. If anything, it made her appear guiltier. “We were just talking.”

He glanced at Andrew and back to her, his uncertainty clear. “Can I come in and talk to you both for a sec?”

Andrew said sure before she could say the few choice words that were on her mind. Probably for the best. Steven ducked to slip inside, while Nat shuffled as far away from him as she could, until she was sitting behind Andrew’s head. The mountaineer’s face fell.

“Nat, I swear I didn’t hurt anyone. I won’t hurt you, either. I kept the knife and crossbow with me for protection, but I’ve done what you asked and given them both to Igor.”

“Okay.”

Steven turned to Andrew. “How are you feeling? Any better?”

“A little. Still pretty weak.”

“That’s probably because you haven’t had anything to eat today. Sorry. In light of recent events, breakfast got a bit… derailed.” He lifted his eyes to Nat’s. “I assume you told him.”

“Yes, I did.” What was it about this guy that a simple question felt like an attack? She felt sick to her stomach.

“We need to get out of here. Before anyone else dies.” The resolve in Andrew’s words was impressive, considering that, as far as Nat knew, he hadn’t stood up yet that day.

“I agree, but even now we’re losing daylight.”

Nat’s spirits plummeted even further. She hadn’t noticed the shadows lengthening, but Steven was right. Soon it would once again be too dark to leave.

“I don’t care,” Andrew said. “I’ll risk a broken leg over lying here like a lamb waiting for slaughter.”

“I get what you’re saying, I do, but you’ll suffer a lot more than a broken leg if you fall off the side of this mountain.”

“At least it would be a quick end.”

“Don’t say that, Andy. We have to be smart about this.”