Mother of all things holy, I can’t breathe. My entire body has turned into one giant heartbeat.
“Oh my goodness!” Val cries out with exaggerated concern as a small army of cameramen swoops in for a better shot. “Are you all right?” Val feigns interest in our well-being for a moment. “You should be more careful near the edge!”
“She pushed me,” Harper says through gritted teeth as we disentangle ourselves.
“It was anaccident,” Val insists, and yet her eyes convey an entirely different message.
“That’s it! That’s the shot!” Boomer crows from behind the cameras. “The tension! The near-death experience! This is why we come to Norway, people!”
As the production team buzzes with excitement over their dramatic footage, I roll myself off the glass platform and onto the concrete, where I make a few snow angels—or concrete angels, as it were—out of sheer gratitude for being on solid ground.
Harper yanks me to my feet and pulls me in. “She tried to kill me,” she hisses.
“It sure looks that way,” I pant. “Although she’d probably call it character development.”
“We need to talk privately,” Harper insists, glancing over her shoulder to ensure the cameras are focused elsewhere. “On the train back down. I’ll show you what’s on the USB. You need to see what Madison recorded about Beth.”
“AboutBeth?” I repeat, stunned. “What on earth did she do?”
“Not here,” Harper hisses, eyeing Val, who is now performing her concerned friend routine for the cameras. “On the train. We’ll find a private compartment.”
The return journey to the railway station is tense, with Val shooting suspicious glances our way and Harper clutching her bag like it contains the nuclear codes. When we board the return train to Flam, Harper insists on a private compartment, claiming sheneeds to conduct a few quick business calls. Although I’d hate to be the one to point out that the reception would be murder.
Boomer readily agrees. I guess he’s still riding high on the fact that both Harper and I nearly plummeted to our deaths.
“Just make sure you wrap up before we hit the halfway point,” he insists. “I want some reaction shots of the Kjosfossen waterfall on the way down.”
Harper leads the way to a small wood-paneled compartment and shuts the door behind us. We take our seats without a word, and as the scenery rolls past the window, she pulls the USB drive from her bag again.
She pulls out her phone and a slim adapter. “Madison was thorough.” She connects the drive, and within seconds, a list of neatly organized folders appears. “Madison had conversations with all of us that we didn’t know were being documented.”
“Isn’t that illegal?” I ask.
“She wasn’t concerned with legality,” Harper laughs at the thought. “She was concerned with leverage.” She navigates through folders organized by name before clicking onBeth Wand selecting the audio file.
Soon enough, Madison’s voice fills the compartment. “So, Beth, tell me again about your background before you married Lance, the infamous Dr. Luca? Tell me about your professional life?”
“Oh, that was a long time ago.” Beth’s voice responds, sounding much less warm than usual. “I don’t know why you’re bringing it up now.”
“I’m just curious,” Madison says sweetly. “Your official bio says you were a homemaker even before you married Lance, but I found some interesting records that suggest otherwise.”
“What are you implying?”
“Nothing at all. I just find it interesting that someone with your specific expertise would hide it. It’s almost as if you’re ashamed of something in your past.”
“Stop it,” Beth’s voice turns hard. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I? I wonder what Lance would think if he knew about?—”
The train suddenly lurches, and the lights flicker. Harper fumbles with her phone as the compartment is plunged into darkness.
“It’s just a power surge,” she mutters. “It’s common in mountain railways.”
The lights return seconds later, and Harper gasps as she stares down at the phone. “The USB,” she says, checking the device. “It’s gone.”
“What do you mean, gone?” I ask, giving a quick once-over to the area near our feet. “It must have fallen somewhere.”
“No,” Harper insists, her voice rising. “It was right here. It was connected, and now it’s gone. Someone took it during the blackout.”
