You Owe Me a Murder(29)

Maybe I should call my parents and tell them exactly what had happened. This was murder, after all, and I might need a lawyer. You hear stories all the time about people getting blamed for crimes. There was that girl in Italy a few years ago—?they sent her to prison. Then when that missing girl in Michigan was found dead, everyone thought it was her boyfriend until a psychic figured out it was her dad. Someone who was innocent could seem guilty in the wrong light. My brain was whirring in circles without alighting on any one path.

I fired off a phone call to Miriam, but she wasn’t picking up. I walked toward the central staircase in the lobby before I realized one of the front desk girls was calling my name. She waved a white envelope over her head like a flag. “This was in your mailbox.”

I took the envelope. The paper was thick. It felt expensive, as if I’d been issued an invitation from Buckingham Palace. I turned the envelope over in my hands. It was blank—?there was no return address or anything.

I slid my thumbnail under the flap, tearing it open. A small scrap of newspaper slid out. My hand reached down into my jean pocket. The article I’d ripped out in the café was still there, crinkling under my fingers. I knew it hadn’t leaped from my pocket to the envelope, like a magical ball disappearing from one hand to appear a second later in the other, but here was another copy of the same article. This one not torn out, but clipped with sharp straight lines from the paper.

There was a strange rushing in my ears, as though I were under water listening to waves crash against the shore. There was a message scribbled in red ink across the paper.



You’re Welcome





I ripped the paper into smaller and smaller pieces until there was just a sprinkle of black and white confetti on the floor, trying to obliterate the words and what they meant. The clerk behind the desk was saying something, but her voice sounded like a high whine.

Someone took my elbow, his face too close. His mouth moved too, but I couldn’t hear him at all, though I could smell the onions on his breath.

I wanted to explain that I was fine and for him to leave me alone, but black dots rushed around the edges of my vision and then there was nothing.





Thirteen


August 20


11 Days Remaining


A pile of candy bars rained down onto my bed, thanks to Alex.

“I brought you basically one of everything. There’s a Dairy Milk, Lion, Galaxy Caramel, Crunchie, and something called a Wispa, which looks weird to me, but the clerk swears by it. And if you’re not feeling chocolate, I also got wine gums and some kind of toffee.”

I picked through the pile and went for the Dairy Milk. I peeled back the wrapper and broke off a piece, letting the chocolate melt in my mouth. “Thanks,” I mumbled. I motioned toward the candy and Alex grabbed the Wispa.

“I figured you could use the sugar. Is Tasha going to arrange for you to see a doctor?”

I shook my head. “It was my own fault. I wasn’t feeling well and I didn’t eat.”

Alex raised his eyebrows. He’d seen me chow down on a bowl of yogurt and granola this morning.

“Look at this.” I passed Alex the article I’d torn from the paper.

He read it quickly. “The police think someone might have pushed Connor in front of the train?”

I nodded.

“Damn.” Alex stared down at the paper.

I swallowed. “The thing is, someone sent that to me.” I didn’t mention the note she’d left on the copy I destroyed. That message required too much explanation.

“I don’t get it.”

“Someone left that for me.” I picked at my thumb, whittling the nail down. “It was in my mailbox in an envelope. No name or return address or anything.”

“That’s messed up.” Alex dropped the paper as if it were poison. “Did they send it to anyone else in our group?”

I shook my head rapidly. I hadn’t checked, but I knew I was the only one.

“Why would they leave it for you?”

“I used to go out with him.” My hands twisted in the bedcovers.

Alex blinked. “You dated Connor?”

“Remember when I told you that someone broke my heart before I came here?”

Alex glanced toward my door and then shut it before sinking down onto my bed. “I thought he was going out with Miriam?”

“He was. He and I . . .” How did I even begin to explain how things had gone down? “When we stopped seeing each other, he started going out with her.” I sighed.

Alex motioned toward the paper on my bed. “So, is this person trying to make some kind of connection between you and the accident because you went out with him?”

I nodded. “I think so, or maybe that they’re the one who did it.” I held my breath waiting for his reaction.

“If you think that, you’ve got to go to the cops.”

“I can’t. I didn’t tell them I dated Connor when they came to ask questions. They’re going to think it’s weird I lied.”

“Why didn’t you tell them?”

I felt myself deflate. “I don’t know. Connor acted like we didn’t know each other on this trip, so in some ways it was easier to pretend we didn’t.” I glanced over at Alex, trying to explain. I stood up and started pacing.