tired.”
He smiled.
“Fresh air will help.”
Something about the way he held my coat told me the decision had already been made.
I considered locking myself in the bathroom.
Then I remembered the satellite phone.
Grant controlled our transportation.
He knew the property.
We were miles from the nearest occupied building.
If I openly accused him, I might force whatever he was planning to happen inside the lodge, where no one would ever hear me.
So I put on my boots.
Before leaving, I slipped my phone into my coat pocket.
The battery was at sixty-one percent.
No service.
Still, carrying it made me feel less alone.
We walked through a forest muffled by fresh snow.
Grant stayed several steps behind me.
At first, the trail was broad.
Then it narrowed as we approached an old maintenance crossing above a river gorge.
The wooden structure had not been used in years.
One section of railing was missing, and snow covered the uneven ground beside it.
I stopped.
“This is far enough.”
Grant kept walking.
“Come on.”
“No.”
He moved beside me.
For the first time all afternoon, there was no smile on his face.
“Do you know,” he said softly, “how exhausting it is living with someone who checks everything?”
I stared at him.
“What are you talking about?”
“The receipts.
The insurance.
My phone.”
My stomach tightened.
“You knew.”
“I knew you were becoming a problem.”
The words were so calm that I almost did not understand them.
I stepped backward.
Grant stepped forward.
“Vanessa?” I asked.
He gave a faint shrug.
“This stopped being about Vanessa a while ago.”
I turned to run.
His hands struck my shoulders.
The force drove me backward into the broken section of railing.
I grabbed his coat.
A silver button tore free into my hand.
For one second I remained upright.
Then the snow beneath my right boot collapsed.
I fell.
Branches tore at my coat.
My shoulder slammed against the trunk of a young fir.
I twisted instinctively around my stomach, trying to protect the baby.
Then I hit a snow-covered shelf perhaps thirty feet below the trail.
Pain flashed through my ribs and skull.
I could not breathe.
Snow filled my collar.
Above me, Grant appeared at the edge.
Our eyes met.
I lifted one arm.
“Help me.”
The words barely came out.
Grant stared down.
He could see me moving.
He could hear me.
Then he stepped away.
That moment changed me more than the fall.
Until then, some irrational part of me had still wanted an explanation.
An accident.
A sudden burst of rage.
Something that would make the man above me resemble the husband I thought I knew.
But he had looked at me alive and made a second decision.
He chose to leave me there.
I tried to climb.
The first attempt sent a bolt of pain through my ribs so sharp that my vision darkened.
I stopped moving.
My left boot was gone.
My phone screen was shattered.
Blood from a cut near my temple ran warm for only a few seconds before the cold began stiffening it against my skin.
I pressed both hands to my stomach.
“Baby?” I whispered.
Nothing.
Panic rose instantly.
Then, several seconds later, I felt a faint push
