by David Bell
My head is throbbing. And so is my heart. But I’m not really under duress. Not about this issue. Not in the way Diana suggests.
“I do, Diana. I just want to be finished with my part in this mess. I want a clean break. And if they figure out Zach did all this, then I can help them wrap it up.”
“Fair enough.” She stands up from the chair. “I’ll arrange it with Bowman. Once she’s done with Zach, I’ll get you there.”
“Thanks, Diana.”
“Stay out of trouble in the meantime, okay?”
“I promise.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
REBECCA
PRESENT
Rebecca returns home at the end of the day. Ordinarily she rides the bus, a slow, rattling trip from campus back to her apartment.
But not tonight. Not after everything that’s happened.
Not after working, after classes.
Not after spending the morning at the police station.
Not after finding out someone murdered Madeline. Someone who is still out there.
Her mom told her—ordered her—to take an Uber home. Mom insisted on paying, and while it felt a little weird to get in the car with a stranger driving after hearing the news about Madeline, it felt way better than walking to and from the bus stop in the freezing cold with the sun and the daylight slipping away. That—and her conversation with Dr. Nye—made her think of the other woman who was murdered two years ago, the woman she saw at the party.
With Madeline.
Was it possible the two were related?
When she walks into the apartment, Rebecca immediately locks the door and latches the chain. Mikaila and Steven are not on the couch. Rebecca saw their cars parked out front and assumed they’d be home. Strangely, she looked forward to seeing them, if only because she didn’t want to be alone after her hellish day. So when she goes inside and sees the empty couch, the blank TV screen, her heart sinks a little. Wouldn’t it feel good to see those two morons?
She goes to the kitchen and opens the refrigerator. She finds some leftover pizza, two slices from a frozen one she baked two nights earlier. It’s a miracle it’s still here, since Mikaila tends to graze through anything Rebecca leaves behind.
Before she sits down to eat the cold pizza, Rebecca remembers the manuscript. She goes to her room and retrieves a stack of the pages. In the chaos of the day she’s forgotten about the book, but now that things are quiet again and she can hear herself think, she remembers how much she was enjoying it the night before.
Reading. For fun. Such a much-needed luxury.
When she leaves her room, she passes Mikaila’s. She hears giggling through the closed door.
“Baby, come on,” Mikaila says.
“Just for a few minutes.”
“Steven. No.”
And more giggling.
At least someone is having fun. At least it isn’t happening on the couch, a piece of furniture Rebecca’s mom bought for the apartment at the beginning of the semester.
And she’s happy they’re here. Company. A pack.
Rebecca sits down with her pizza and a glass of water and starts to read. It takes just a few sentences to fall back into the world of the book. She’s a third of the way through, and even though the town isn’t called Gatewood, all the descriptions totally match. And the writing is so vivid, it makes Rebecca uneasy because the book is clearly building up to a woman being murdered. The character is leaving work alone, late at night. And the character—Sarah—has the uneasy feeling someone is watching her.
As she reads, Rebecca feels something tingling along her spine. The apartment is warm—Mikaila likes to turn the thermostat up—but despite that, Rebecca gets a shivering feeling in the center of her body. She spent the morning telling the police about Madeline and the party—the guy with her out in the alley, his hands slithering up Madeline’s shirt after his wife was gone. Even when Madeline tried to stop him.
And is Rebecca nuts or does the description of the woman in the book who is about to be killed sound a lot like the woman from the party? Blond hair. Big bright eyes. Married. The guy who might be about to kill her—her husband—has brown hair and a beard. A lot like the creep from the party.
And in real life, that woman is dead. Murdered. Six months before Madeline disappeared. That’s what Nye told her in the alley.
So whoever wrote this book based it on the murder?
So why did the author send it to her?
In the book, the woman is in her car, turning the key to start the engine. And just before she does, she hears something in the backseat.
Maybe it’s the wind.
Maybe it’s outside.
Maybe it’s her mind playing tricks.
She turns around to look—
“Boo!”
Rebecca screams, knocks over her glass of water, dumping its contents everywhere. Then the glass rolls off the end of the table and shatters against the linoleum floor. Rebecca springs from her chair, spinning as she does, turning to face her attacker. Ready to fight or flee.
“Oh, my God, Becca. Are you okay?”
Rebecca stands with her back to the refrigerator. Her hands are out in front of her, both of them clenched into fists. Her dad taught her how to do that when she was little, how to get into a fighting stance and throw a punch.
She’s ready to do that now, the chill in her spine growing hot. The water cascading off the table and onto the floor like a mini waterfall.
She sees Mikaila before her, her mouth wide open, a shocked look on her face. She’s wearing the same shorts and T-shirt she always wears around the apartment, and she lifts her hand to her mouth, covering it even as she speaks.
“Chill, Becca. It was just a joke.” She holds up a beer bottle with her other hand. “I pressed this against your neck, just trying to irritate you. My God, you totally overreacted.”
Rebecca wants to go ahead and punch Mikaila anyway, even though she isn’t a threat. She wants to punch her because Mikaila is acting like Rebecca is the one behaving strangely when it’s her who’s doing the wrong thing, sneaking up on someone who’s had a long, shitty day hearing about murder and spousal abuse and kidnapping.
“Jesus, Mikaila. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
All of a sudden, Steven is here, just behind Mikaila. “Easy, babe.”
“With me?” Mikaila asks. “What’s wrong with me?”
“You can’t just sneak up on somebody like that. You scared the shit out of me. And I broke a glass.”
“It was a joke, Becca. Lighten up.”
“And stop calling me Becca. It’s Rebecca.”
Mikaila’s mouth opens again. She gasps like she’s offended. Or hurt.
Or both.
“I’ve tried to be your friend, Becca—Rebecca. But I don’t have to deal with this shit.” She turns, her hair flying out and surrounding her head like a halo. “Come on, Steven. Let’s go back to our room.”
“Hold on, babe.”
Mikaila stops mid-storm-off. She stands in the middle of the living room, turning back, hands on hips. She looks like she’s pretending to be a fashion model, all the way down to the pouty look on her face.
“What?” Mikaila asks without losing the pout.
“I need to say something to Rebecca,” Steven says.
And Rebecca remains tense. What could Steven have to say to her? The two of them rarely speak, and while he seems like a decent enough guy, she also has to wonder what he sees in Mikaila beyond the way she looks. If that’s all there is, aren’t there a thousand other girls he could pursue in this town who might look just as good without being as shallow?
And then she worries that Steven is about to go off on her—take Mikaila’s side and turn the whole apartment into a war zone. Two against one, even though one isn’t paying any rent.
Would Rebecca have to move out and find a new place to live?
But then Steven says, “I heard you ask Mikaila about that package we found on the porch. The one in the big envelope?”
Rebecca feels like she ran five miles. Her breathing is just coming back to normal. “What about it?”
“You asked if we saw who left it here,” he says. “And Mikaila was ahead of me because I was carrying both of our bags and our food from the car. But I looked over to the side of the building—you know, over where people wash their cars when the weather’s warm? Anyway, there was a woman standing there, peeking her head around the side of the building. And it was like she was watching us come home. And when Mikaila got to the top of the stairs and picked up the envelope, the woman pulled her head back and disappeared out of sight.”
“For real?” Rebecca asks.
“For real.”
“What did she look like?” Rebecca asks. But she thinks she knows the answer.
“I don’t know. All I saw were big glasses. And red hair. Really bright red hair.”
CHAPTER SIXTY
Rebecca’s hands shake as she sweeps up the broken glass with the little broom and dustpan they keep under the sink. She soaks up the water with a towel. She hopes the mundane task will ground her, make her racing mind calm down some.
So Madeline came back to town, went to Dr. Nye’s reading, and then left a manuscript on Rebecca’s doorstep before she was murdered?
Why?
Rebecca goes back to her bedroom for her phone, which she plugged in to charge. She needs to call her mom, to talk to someone who can make some sense of everything that’s going on. She’s already called home five times today, including once before she went into the police station and then again on the way out. Her mom has a way of making everything sound manageable. She told Rebecca just to tell the police the truth, to leave nothing out, and so she did. And before they hung up the second time, her mom said she and Dad would come visit during the upcoming weekend, take her out to dinner. Or if Rebecca preferred, she could come home, sleep in her old room. Rebecca likes the sound of that idea the best—get out of Gatewood for a couple of days.
After all—isn’t there someone on the loose who killed Madeline?
She’s about to make the call when their doorbell rings, and Rebecca jumps again.
Could the police be coming by to ask her more questions? They said they might.
Steven sticks his head out of Mikaila’s bedroom doorway. Rebecca refuses to think of it as “their” room. Not unless he starts paying rent, and she doesn’t see that happening.
“Was that the door?” Steven asks.
“Did you guys order food?” Rebecca asks.
“Nope.”
“Are you expecting someone?”
Mikaila has done that a few times—invited people over without telling Rebecca. She’d come home from work or class or studying and there’d be six or eight people in the living room, drinking beer or passing around a joint. And Mikaila would say, “Hey, everybody, this is my super-chill roommate, Becca. I love you, Becca Boo!” And Rebecca would have to stand there and smile and act like it was cool to have a bunch of people she didn’t know in the living room on a Tuesday night.
“No,” Steven says. “We’re just hanging out.”
“Will you answer the door, then?” Rebecca asks. “I mean, since you’re a guy and everything. And just . . .”
“Just what?”
“Just say I’m not home.”
“Sure.” But he doesn’t leave. He stands before Rebecca, his head cocked to one side. “You seem pretty tense tonight. A guy in one of my classes said a former student got murdered. Did you hear that too?”
“Yeah, I did. And I knew her.”
His eyebrows rise. “You knew her? Oh, shit. I’m sorry. You know, Mikaila doesn’t know. She doesn’t pay attention to anything like that. She wouldn’t have snuck up on you that way if she knew.”
“It’s okay,” I say. “I’m not really mad at her.”
“I’ll handle whoever’s at the door,” he says. Steven is wearing a pair of gym shorts and nothing else. He’s broad-shouldered and has so much hair on his torso, it looks like he’s wearing a sweater. But Rebecca has to admit she feels a lot safer having him in the apartment and is glad he’s spending the night. “I’ll tell them to get lost. And my dad has a few guns. I can get one and bring it back tomorrow. And protect you guys.”
“Just answer the door. Okay?”
He strolls across the living room, arms swinging at his sides. Rebecca steps back into the hallway, out of sight of the front door. She tells herself it’s likely a mistake. There’s so much turnover in these off-campus apartments that it’s not unusual for someone to knock on the wrong door, looking for a friend who used to live there. Or maybe one of Mikaila’s drinking companions decided to show up. Even that sounds good to Rebecca. As far as she is concerned, Mikaila can have everybody over, the whole gang. And they can sit in the living room all night if they want.
Anything so she’s not alone.
Rebecca hears the door open. And Steven’s muffled voice.
“I’m not sure if she’s able to talk to anyone right now,” he says. “I have to check.”
It’s someone for her? No one ever just drops in on her. No one she knows drops in at all. They text first. It’s not 1993.
Rebecca hears the door close and then Steven is back. He jerks his thumb over his shoulder toward the door. And he’s wearing a little half smile on his face.
“Rebecca, it’s for you. The dude says he’s one of your professors, and he needs to talk to you about something important.”
Rebecca thinks Steven is kidding around, playing another joke on her. But Steven isn’t the kind of person to do that, unlike Mikaila. And she isn’t even sure Steven could think of something this weird—a professor showing up on her doorstep. She remembers fiction-writing class with Dr. Nye. He always says the weirder the detail, the more likely it is to ring true with the reader. And what could be weirder than a professor coming to her apartment unannounced at night?
“Who is it?” she asks. “What’s his name?”
Steven looks stumped for a moment, like he already forgot the name. Then he snaps his fingers. “Hoffbrau? No. Hoffman. Lance Hoffman.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
“You look totally freaked out,” Steven says. “Do you want me to tell him you’re not home or something?”
“No, that’s okay. It’s just so weird to have my professor at my door. And he didn’t say what it’s about?”
“No.” Steven shrugs. “Maybe it’s some shit from class. Like he forgot to give you an assignment or something.”
“He can just e-mail us all. Or use Blackboard.”
“That’s true.” Steven rubs his chin. “Maybe it’s about that student who died. You said you knew her. Did he?”
His guess makes as much sense as anything. Rebecca saw Madeline at Hoffman’s house. Madeline was an English major. Is that why Hoffman is here? Are they getting in touch personally with every student to reassure them? To calm them down or give them counseling?
“Do you want me to get rid of him?” Steven asks.
“No,” Rebecca says. “I’ll go talk to him. He’s going to direct my thesis now. Maybe it’s about that.”
“Sure. Just yell if you need something. Mikaila’s watching Netflix, and I have Psych homework. Okay? But I’m listening.”
“Thanks, Steven.”
Rebecca walks across the living room to the closed front door. Could Steven have misunderstood who is waiting out there hoping to speak to her?
She takes a deep breath on her side of the door and pulls it open.
Hoffman is on the landing, wearing a heavy green parka that looks like it came from an army surplus store. He smiles when he sees
her, his hands clasped together in front of his body.
“Rebecca. I’m so sorry to barge in on you like this and at this late hour. Do you have just a moment to talk to me? Your boyfriend didn’t seem certain if you were home or not.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” she says as if that matters. “He’s my roommate’s boyfriend.”
“Ah, I see. Well . . . time for a quick chat?”
“Sure. I guess. Come in.”
Hoffman hesitates. He looks past Rebecca into the apartment. “Well, I’d rather . . . Can you get a coat and step out here? I was hoping to speak privately. And you seem to have company.”
Rebecca feels her heart jump into a higher gear. If he wants to talk outside, it must be something personal, right? If he wants to reassure her about Madeline’s death, why not come inside and do it?
Can she say no to a professor, even on her own doorstep? Does she want to risk pissing him off when he’s about to direct her thesis?
“Okay,” she says. “Let me get my coat.”
It takes her a minute to walk to her room, grab her coat, and come back out. On her way, Steven sticks his head out of the bedroom again. “Everything okay?”
“I think so. I’m just going outside with him for a minute.”
Mikaila’s voice comes through the partially open door. “I’m sorry about pranking you, Rebecca. I mean it.”
Steven raises his eyebrows, the look saying, See, she isn’t as bad as you think.
“Thanks, Mikaila,” Rebecca says. “It’s fine.”
“What does your professor want?” she asks, still a disembodied voice. “Extra credit?” She giggles.
“I’ll tell her what’s going on,” Steven says. “About your friend.”
“See you in a few, Steven,” Rebecca says, and goes through the living room and outside onto the small landing. She pulls the door shut behind her. “Okay. What’s the matter, Dr. Hoffman?”