The Herd(86)

She chewed on her lip, then nodded. “He was the only person I told. He was, like, the one person who didn’t see Eleanor with this huge halo around her—he believed me.” She nodded again. “He encouraged me to stand up for myself. But I didn’t. It kills me to think that I…that he…”

“Oh, Mikki.” I pulled her into a hug and felt her shake against my collarbone. I smoothed a hand over her hair. “It’s okay. It’s over now.”

“I feel awful,” she croaked.

I swallowed. “Did Cameron tell you anything? Did you know?”

“I didn’t know anything.” She pulled away to wipe her nose. Eyes, nose, cheeks—all poinsettia red. “I had no idea he was in town. Or, Jesus, that he stabbed her and left her on the roof. I didn’t hear from him until Wednesday—the day after we realized she was missing—and he told me he’d come down to try to help.” A rickety sigh. “Like I said, I asked him to look for the cease-and-desist letter. I wasn’t thinking straight; I was worried they’d suspect me. Until last night, I had no idea the killer was actually him. And now he’s…”

She groaned and rubbed her palms over her blotchy face, then stood. “I really want to go to bed, if that’s okay,” she said.

“Of course. We’ll do something tomorrow, if you’re up for it.” I slid my arms into my coat and followed her to the door.

She unlocked the dead bolt and I turned to look her in the eye. “Mikki, I’m really sorry. I want you to be able to talk to me about anything and I’m just really sorry you felt like you couldn’t.”

She sniffled. “Thanks.” I hugged her and it was an odd, uneven hug, me in my hat and unzipped parka, her bony and birdlike under my arms. Then I trudged downstairs and spotted a yellow taxi cruising past. I lifted my arm—what luck, spotting one on Christmas Eve—and in it I rolled north into Queens, Manhattan’s skyline glittering to my left.



* * *



—

Gary was calling, his face popping up in a goofy photo I’d taken at a Harvard football game all those years ago. The cabbie peered at me in the rearview mirror as I fumbled to answer.

“They found him, Hana,” he said as soon as I picked up, his voice pulsing with hysterics. “In a motel a few hours outside Montreal. He used the fake passport to get a room at a seedy motel and they found him almost dead with a needle sticking out of his arm, they say he’d—he was—”

“Gary. It’s okay. Just breathe.” A sob welled up in my throat and I swallowed hard. “Let’s slow down. Where are you?”

“We’re at home. That Ratcliff woman called us. They’re rushing Cameron to a hospital right now.”

A sheet of snow slid off a tree, pounced on the taxi’s roof. “But he’s okay?”

“She said he’s stable. That’s all they know.” He stuttered for a second. “She said it was a huge amount of heroin. A suicide attempt.”

“But he’s stable. She said he’s stable.”

“But they don’t know if he’ll be able to talk. To tell us what—what really happened to Eleanor.”

“It’s okay. It’s okay.”

I wasn’t sure what to make of any of this, and I imagined Gary didn’t either. He sounded terrified for Cameron—his surrogate kid, the son he never had—but did he still believe Cameron was innocent?

“He had—” He paused and moaned, a sound so sad tears poured down my own cheeks. It took him a few tries to get it out. “He had Eleanor’s laptop with him. And her phone.”

“Oh, Gary. I’m so sorry.” I let him cry for a moment. I was touched that he called me, but also surprised. “What can I do? Do you want me to come back up to Beverly?”

“No. I just…I thought all of you should know. Mikki too.”

Oh God—not after the night Mikki had. I’d let the poor thing sleep. “She’s in bed but I’ll let her know tomorrow. Can you keep me updated on any news?”

“I will. I will.”

“Okay. Take care of yourself. Karen too.”

“I will.”

I hung up and the driver turned the music back up.

“It will be a white Christmas, ma’am,” he said.

I didn’t reply.





CHAPTER 24





Katie


TUESDAY, DECEMBER 24, 9:48 P.M.

I rounded the corner just in time to see a cab drifting away from Mikki’s building and sighed. Now that I’d likely missed the last bus—I couldn’t confirm without the use of my damn phone, presumably still on Mikki’s coffee table—all I wanted was a direct ride home. Soon I’d be standing in Mikki’s Wi-Fi and summoning a car. Hopefully she hadn’t fallen asleep. Did her buzzer even work? My last resort would involve flinging snowballs at her window.

I went to town on the buzzer, pushing it to the beat of Jingle Bells, imagining I could hear it in the cold, still night. Finally Mikki’s voice crackled through: “Hello?”

“It’s Katie! Thank God you’re up.”

“Your phone, right? I can bring it down.”

I hopped from one foot to the other. “Actually, can I come up and use the bathroom?” And wait for my car from the warmth of your living room?