Chapter Twenty-Eight
Two Days Before Christmas
The snow was falling harder, and the world looked like static, blurry and out of focus and not quite right as Maggie blinked
against the falling flakes. Even the wind had stopped howling.
“Why, Maggie?” Had he ever called her by her real name before? Maggie couldn’t remember.
“I heard you,” she said before she could stop herself.
“Heard me when?” His voice was so much closer than it should have been—softer and louder at the same time.
“At the party. You and Lance. I heard you.”
“What—”
“ I’m not surprised he left her. ” She wiped snow from her eyes and saw the words land. They knocked him back like a punch. “Well, congratulations.” She gave
a joyless laugh. “Everyone leaves me, so it didn’t exactly take a genius to see it coming, but that’s okay. I guess you beat
me there too.”
“Maggie, please...”
This time she didn’t slow down and she didn’t turn back. It took her three false leads before she saw the exit up ahead, but,
for once, Ethan wasn’t following and that, to Maggie, felt like victory.
As soon as she got back to the house, she’d change out of her wet clothes and take a warm shower. She’d get something hot
to drink and then call upon every word of every Eleanor book that had ever seeped into her soul. She would win this thing.
She had to.
Because it was Eleanor.
Because it was something that Colin couldn’t claim and Emily couldn’t ruin.
Because, if she did this, then everything—everything—would have been worth it.
Everything would finally be okay.
She just had to follow the clues and find Eleanor and beat Ethan.
In that moment, Maggie wanted to beat Ethan most of all.
She was turning and heading out of the maze when she heard it—a bang on the air. Ice must have fallen off the roof, she thought.
Somewhere, a car must have backfired. Or maybe it was the wind because, suddenly, the hedges rustled, big chunks of snow breaking
free and landing at her feet with a smack .
And then the sound came again. A crack. A bang. And before Maggie knew what was happening, two strong arms came out of nowhere
and grabbed her, pulling her backward through the snowy hedge. Arms flailing. Snow flying. Hair and sweater tangling and snagging
on the branches.
And then there was nothing but the icy ground at her back and the warm weight of Ethan as he lay over her, pressing down.
“Don’t even think about moving.”
“Get off me!”
“Not until the shooting stops.”