Devlin found herself standing in an expansive bedroom suite with a low fire burning in the hearth.
She didn’t notice the man until he spoke.
“How old are you, Devlin?” His voice was soft, almost a falsetto, tinged with a slight accent that Devlin couldn’t place due to the confusion and the sudden banging racket of her heart.
He set down a book and rose from the recliner beside the fireplace, removed his wire-rim glasses so he could look Devlin up and down.
“Did you not hear my question?” he asked.
Devlin looked at Kalyn, who just said, “Answer him.”
“What’s happening?”
“Answer him.”
“Sixteen.”
The man nodded. “You favor your mother.”
Kalyn said, “So, Paul? We good?”
Devlin ripped her hand out of Kalyn’s grasp and backpedaled into the wall beside the door. She stared at Paul. His vest, wire-rim glasses, and banker’s haircut struck her as incongruous, given his apparent station in the lodge.
“What are you doing, Kalyn?” she asked.
“Are we all set, Paul?”
“We still have the matter of Gerald. He was a good man. Had been with me for—”
“You can’t hire another guard?”
“What are you doing, Kalyn?” Devlin asked again.
Kalyn looked at her, just shook her head. “I don’t have a choice here, okay?”
“A choice? About what?”
Paul said, “Okay, we’ll call it good as soon as you find Rachael’s husband and bring him to me.”
“And then you’ll fly Lucy and me out of here first thing tomorrow?”
“Weather permitting.”
“How do I know?”
“What?”
“That you’ll keep your end.”
Paul shrugged. “Guess I’ll have to earn your trust.”
Devlin reached into the pocket of her parka, fingers grazing the .357, thinking, I should’ve taken it out, made sure it was loaded earlier today. I don’t even know how to use this thing.
Devlin ran her thumb over the hammer. In the movies, she’d seen people pull on it. She tried, and the cylinder made a clicking sound, the hammer locked back.
“You gonna kill him?” Kalyn asked.
“You really wanna know?”
Before anyone had noticed, she was bringing up the .357 and aiming it at the center of Paul’s chest. She could barely see the revolver, the metal dull in the low light. It felt so heavy, smelled of oil.
Paul was the first to notice, and he said, “You stupid cunt, you didn’t frisk her.”
Devlin said, “Go stand beside him, Kalyn.”
“Devlin—”
Devlin swung the gun toward Kalyn.
“All right.”
As Kalyn approached him, Paul said, “Your first time holding a gun, Ms. Innis?”
“Why are you doing this to us, Kalyn?”
“The way your hands are trembling, I would assume the answer is yes.”
Devlin began to cry, glancing between Paul and Kalyn, a knot tightening in her stomach. “I don’t understand.” She barely got the words out.
“Give him the gun, baby.” Kalyn seemed harder than she remembered, something different, changed about her. Devlin blinked through the sheet of tears.
“Devlin.” Paul found Devlin’s eyes, locked her in with a gaze that seemed to hum. “You come here and lay that big gun down in my hand like Kalyn just told you. What? You think I’m going to hurt you?”
“Stop moving.”
“I’m not moving. I don’t know—”
“You think I won’t pull the trigger, but I swear to God I will.” The initial shock was waning, making room for the rage. “Why’d you do this, Kalyn?”
Kalyn was crying now. “They caught me. Three hours ago, after I’d killed one of the guards. It wasn’t like I had planned all this. I told them about you, said I could find you. If I did, he was going to let my sister go. Fly me and Lucy out of here tomorrow. If I didn’t, he was gonna let one of the oilmen kill her tonight. You see? I didn’t have a—”
“You were gonna trade me for your sister.”
“I’m sorry,” Kalyn said. “Wouldn’t you trade me for your mother? To get her back?”
“I wouldn’t sell anyone out.”
“Well, congratulations on being a better person. Now come here and put the gun in my hand.”
“Fuck you.”
Devlin noticed Paul inching toward her, the subtlest of movements. He said, “You aren’t gonna hurt anybody. Fact, you’ve got the safety on right now.”
Devlin knew if she averted her eyes even for a second, it would be over. “Guess we’ll find out,” she said.
Kalyn said, “Dev, no—”
Devlin winced as the recoil pushed her back against the wall, her ears ringing, temporarily blinded from the flash.
Paul’s brow furrowed up and he looked down at the black hole in the upper left quadrant of his sweater vest, darkness blossoming below his heart.
The room smelled sweetly bitter, the cordite burning in Devlin’s nose.
Paul said, “You didn’t shoot me. You didn’t.” He sat back down in the chair, paling. Devlin could hear the fading suck of his punctured lung, the man emitting soft, drowning gurgles. She pulled the hammer back once more and aimed at Kalyn.
“If you move,” Devlin said, “I’ll kill you, too.”
FIFTY
Devlin rushed back into the corridor, ran down the stairwell and into the passage. She heard voices in the dining hall, but she kept going, back into the lobby. It was much darker here, now illuminated only by candles and lanterns. As she entered the first-floor corridor, she heard it—rapid footfalls on stone, people running through the lobby, a man yelling. Devlin glanced back, saw a group of shadows appear at the far end. She rushed into the alcove, started up the stairwell, came out onto the second floor. The wolf loped down the corridor toward her, its head low, sniffing the hardwood floor. Devlin fired off three shots, then turned, ran back into the stairwell, sprinting up two more flights, emerging finally onto the last floor.
There were footsteps below her now and more coming up the stairs from the lobby. You have to find a room and hide. She ran through the corridor, trying doorknobs on both sides of the hall—locked, locked. She could hear the wolf running up the stairwell, growling. Locked. Locked. Shouting resounded in the lobby. Locked. Room 403 opened.
She stepped inside, shut the door, out of breath, on the verge of tears. It was completely dark in the room. She ran to the window, looked through it, light from the veranda glittering on the billions of snowflakes loading the fir trees with tons of powder, burying saplings, boulders, swirling madly as the wind blew drifts to the second floor.
She heard doors opening, shutting out in the corridor, the slams getting closer. A wardrobe stood to the left of the door. She set the gun on the bed, got behind the wardrobe, put all her weight against it, straining to shove the enormous piece of furniture across the floor. It inched. They were coming, just a few doors down now.
The wardrobe finally slid. She pushed it behind the door, then went to the desk, pulled it away from the window, braced it against the wardrobe.
Outside, someone said, “I can’t see through this peephole.”
“Unlock it.”
“It is unlocked.”
The door shook. “There’s something blocking it.”
Another man’s voice came very quietly and very evenly through the barricade. “Can you hear me?” Devlin made no response. She picked up the gun. “Open the door right now.” She didn’t move. After a moment, the footsteps trailed away, and she stood trembling in the darkness of the bedroom, the only sound the whisper of snow striking the glass. Another minute passed. Could they have left? Oh, please God, please. She thought she heard the echo of footsteps, but the sound was soft and she couldn’t be sure.
There was a knock, and his voice passed through the door.
“Gonna let me in, do this easy?”
Devlin looked at the wardrobe braced against the door, realized with a horrifying pressure between her eyes that this was it. End of the line.