Prologue
On Ice
The ice in the Rink was still clean from the Zamboni’s earlier path, except for the bloodstain near the scorekeeper’s bench. The blood had soaked into the ice, creating an uneven, rippled effect on the otherwise smooth surface. Thin tracks left by a wheeled stretcher led away from the stain, disappearing near the boards.
Typically, the Rink at Bellford University was loud and raucous, filled with the sound of cheering fans, shouting hockey players, the thunderous noise of applause, or the elegant fullness of music playing through the speakers for a figure skater’s program.
Tonight, though, it was silent.
There had been no one there to witness the gruesome scene at the Rink. Only a single figure skater who had arrived after, his face white with shock when he saw the horror. Then there were the paramedics, the police.
Now, it was silent again.
In the hours and days to come, there would be many questions. How had this happened? It had been such a good year for the team. A promising one. Everyone was expecting them to win the Frozen Four after last year’s narrow and disappointing defeat. Now that was all in jeopardy.
There would be answers, eventually. It wouldn’t take the police long to figure out what had happened. People would come forward and talk. There would be more tears, and noise would eventually return to the Rink.
Now, though, it stayed silent.
It was almost deserted. Barriers of police tape cordoned off all entrances, and campus security cars squatted like steel-and-aluminum sentinels.
Only one other person remained by the Rink, and that was only because the police hadn’t called him in for his statement. They would soon. He had come back to the Rink after going to the hospital, hoping and hoping that he hadn’t been too late.
The figure skater stood outside, his face still pale in shock, his hands and clothes stained red with blood. When he had entered the rink and seen what had happened, he had run forward on the ice, slipping, and done everything he could to stop the bleeding.
He’d been there in the ambulance, huddled to the side while the paramedics did what they could.
Now, back at the scene of the crime, he could only hope that it would be enough.
Part 1
Chapter 1
Adonis
The Previous Summer
When his mother called to inform him that he needed to come to the Rink immediately to film his free skate program so that they could send it to U.S. Skating’s High Performance Development program, Adonis Costa was busy giving his friend Guy a blowjob.
He almost didn’t answer the call. He was kneeling, naked, between Guy’s bare legs while Guy lay back on his elbows on his bed. Guy let out a moan and then said, “Hey, your mom is calling you.”
Just what every guy wants to hear while he’s sucking dick.
Adonis paused, wiped his mouth, and looked up at Guy. “She can wait.”
Guy surely wanted Anamária Costa to wait as much as Adonis did. Adonis was very good at sucking dick. But:
“You have two missed calls from her already,” Guy said. He was twenty-four, three years older than Adonis, who was still in college. Like Adonis, he lived in healthy fear of Anamária Costa. “You should probably answer,” Guy said. “My dick will still be hard when you’re done.”
“Fine.” Adonis stood, paused for a moment to enjoy the view of the naked Guy, who was a former collegiate swimmer and still very fit, and grabbed his phone. “Hi, Mom.”
In one breath, Anamária told him the news and delivered her instructions. “Meet you there in ten,” she said.
Adonis blanched. He was at Guy’s apartment in Boston, thirty miles from Bellford’s campus, and his mother’s impatience. “I can be there in forty-five.”
“Where are you?”
“In the city with friends.” The only part of it that was a lie was the plurality of his friends. Guy raised an eyebrow from the bed. Adonis waved him off. They were friends. Friends who fucked. Nothing more, it was simple.
