Maplecroft stumbled. The bed frame dragged back with her foot.
“Nick—” Jane tried.
He punched her a third time.
Maplecroft’s head jerked back on her neck. She started to fall, but her pinned leg pulled her sideways. Her temple bounced against the metal edge of the bed frame with a sickening pop before she hit the floor. A pool of blood flowered from beneath her, rolled across the wood, seeped into the cracks between the boards.
Her eyes were wide. Her lips gaped apart. Her body was still.
They all stared at her. No one could speak until—
“Jesus,” Andrew whispered.
Paula asked, “Is she dead?”
Quarter knelt down to check, but he leapt back when Alexandra Maplecroft’s eyes blinked.
Jane screamed once before she could cover her mouth with both hands.
“Christ,” Paula whispered.
Urine puddled from between the woman’s legs. They could almost hear the sound of her soul leaving her body.
“Nick,” Jane breathed. “What have you done? What have you done?”
“She—” Nick looked scared. He never looked scared. He told Jane, “I didn’t mean—”
“You killed her!” Jane screamed. “You punched her, and she fell, and she—”
“It was me,” Quarter said. “I’m the one who put the knife in her.”
“Because Nick told you to!”
“I didn’t—” Nick tried. “I said to stop her, not to—”
“What have you done?” Jane felt her head shaking furiously side to side. “What have we done? What have we done?” She couldn’t ask the question enough. This had crossed the line of insanity. They were all psychotic. Every single one of them. “How could you?” she asked Nick. “How could you—”
“He was protecting you, dumb bitch,” Paula said, unable or unwilling to keep the derision out of her voice. “This is your fault.”
“Penny,” Andrew said.
Nick tried, “Jinx, you have to believe—”
“You punched—you killed—” Jane’s throat felt strangled. They had all watched it happen. She didn’t have to give them a replay. Maplecroft had been spinning out of control after the first hit. Nick could’ve grabbed her arm, but he had punched her two more times and now her blood was sliding along the cracks in the floor.
Paula told Jane, “You’re the one who let her get untied. So much for our ransom demand. That’s our leverage pissing on her own grave.”
Jane walked to the open back window. She tried to pull air into her lungs. She couldn’t witness this, couldn’t be here. Nick had crossed the line. Paula was making excuses for him. Andrew was keeping his mouth shut. Quarter had been willing to murder for him. They had all completely lost their senses.
Nick said, “Darling—”
Jane braced her hands on the windowsill. She looked at the back of the house across the alley because she couldn’t bear to look at Nick. A pair of pink sheers wistfully furled in the late morning breeze. She wanted to be back home in her bed. She wanted to take back Oslo, to rewind the last two years of her life and leave Nick before he had pulled them all into the abyss.
“Jane,” Andrew said. He was using his patient voice.
She turned around, but not to look at her brother. Her eyes automatically found the woman lying on the floor. “Don’t,” she begged Andrew. “Please don’t tell me to calm—”
Maplecroft blinked again.