O' Artful Death - By Sarah Stewart Taylor Page 0,87

from them, to stand under a tree where the hill fell away. She tipped her head back to look up at the sky. The Little Dipper shone brightly, and she picked out the other formations she knew, Orion’s Belt and the Big Dipper. It was so beautiful. She closed her eyes and felt peace wash over her. She heard Toby’s voice calling out, “Where’d you all go? It’s so dark,” then Patch’s laugh.

Suddenly she heard a crunch of snow behind her and just as she opened her eyes, someone pushed her from behind. It was a surprisingly gentle push and she felt herself fall in slow motion, her upper body teetering over the edge of the hill, her arms flailing as she tried to keep her footing. For a moment, she thought she might be able to regain her balance, but then she felt the snow give way beneath her and she fell backward and started sliding. The hill was steeper than it appeared from the top, and she gathered speed as she slid. Grab something, she told herself. Just grab something. And at that moment her right shoulder hit something hard and she reached with her other hand and got hold of a small tree. It bent discouragingly, then held. She tried to catch her breath, and tried to block out the pain in her right shoulder. Then she was able to get a firm footing and could stand as long as she hung on to the tree.

“Hey!” she called out. “Help me! Please! Someone pushed me over.” She felt her hold on the tree slip a little, her boots slide on the snow and she called out again.

Patch’s voice came out of the darkness. “What? Sweeney?”

“It’s Sweeney.” That was Ian’s voice, directly above her. “Sweeney, where are you?”

“I’m right here. I grabbed hold of a tree, but I think I hurt my arm. I can’t hold on much longer.”

“Shit!” That was Patch’s voice. “Wait, let me get the flashlight.”

But she heard a crashing above her and then Ian’s voice saying, “Where are you? Say something so I can find you.”

“Here,” she said weakly. “I think I can get back up. It’s just my shoulder.”

“No, wait. You might be hurt.” Suddenly, he was right in front of her in the dark and he put an arm around her, holding her up.

“Did you hit your head?” Patch shone a light down on them and she turned to find Ian’s eyes searching her face.

“No, I don’t think so. Just my shoulder.”

“I’ve got my foot braced against a tree,” Ian said. “Hang on and I think I can get us both up.”

They made their way slowly, Sweeney holding his gloved hand and allowing herself to be towed along, her shoulder throbbing, her teeth chattering from cold and shock.

“Are you okay, Sweeney?” Patch helped them up the last few yards.

“I think so.” She was shivering violently and Willow brought a blanket from the sled to wrap around her shoulders.”

“What happened?” Toby asked.

“I . . . I think someone pushed me.”

“What?” Toby sounded incredulous.

“We were all right here,” Patch said. “Nobody would push you. That’s ridiculous.”

“It was dark,” she said quietly. “You wouldn’t have known.”

“You must have lost your balance. It’s so dark and we were standing too near the edge.”

Sweeney’s mind raced. Was it possible she had just stepped over? She supposed it was. Yet, she thought she remembered someone standing there, the feel of a hand on her back. But now she wasn’t sure. Had she imagined it?

“Let’s head back really slowly,” Patch called out once they were settled in the sleigh again. Toby put his arm around her and let her lean into him, her face against his chest.

They started for the house in silence, the cold air whipping at the sleigh. Sweeney huddled against Toby for warmth and comfort, wanting to cry.

WHEN SHE SAW the police car, its blue and red lights swirling in front of the house, her first thought was that someone had called ahead to say there had been an accident. But before she could work through the assumption and realize that there was no way the news could have reached the house so quickly, a second, much worse thought entered her head. Something had happened at the party. The house was alight and through the first floor window she could see a Christmas tree here, a couple dancing there.

“It’s Cooper. Wonder what he wants?” Patch said as they pulled up alongside the driveway and the sleigh