You Owe Me a Murder(30)



“At first I thought I couldn’t breathe without him in my life. But things between us were never right and we broke up. Once I was here, I realized that I could get over him, but then he died, and I felt like shit, like with all those bad thoughts I had wished him out in front of the train, and did you see him? Jesus, Alex, that train, it ripped him apart. I saw him—?his arm was hanging on by this strip of flesh, his leg was off all together, and parts of his insides were all—?”

Alex grabbed me by the shoulders and I realized I was sobbing. “Hey, hey, take it easy. Take a deep breath.”

“I can’t . . . I—?”

“Shhh.” He pulled me close to his chest. He smelled clean, like soap and cotton warm from a dryer. His arms were wiry and strong. I inhaled his scent and felt my heart slow. “It’s going to be okay.” His voice flowed over me like smooth honey.

My head pressed against Alex’s chest, his heart coming through to me like a muffled bass drum. I matched my breathing to his. We stood that way in the middle of my room for what felt like hours.

“Better?” he asked softly.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.” He pulled me down so I was sitting next to him on the bed. “We’re going to figure this out.”

My heart flip-flopped. He’d said we would figure it out. Together. We. “What do we do?”

“We don’t freak out. We’ve been assuming this person sent you this for a bad reason, but maybe they just wanted you to know.”

I sucked in a breath. “I have an idea who it might be. I met this girl on the plane. She’s from here. I told her all about Connor.” The only other person I could think of in all of England who even knew I had been with Connor was Miriam, and why would she send me this, when she could just come see me or return my call if she wanted to tell me something? Besides, I knew Miriam hadn’t sent me this article. I just knew.

Alex nodded. “That’s a place for us to start. What’s her name?”

“Nicki. I don’t know her last name or where she lives or anything.” I motioned toward the window. “It’s not exactly going to be easy to narrow it down in this city.”

“We’ll think of something.”

“You said your mom worked for the airline, right?” I picked at the duvet cover, not meeting his eyes.

“Yeah.”

My words came out in a rush. “She could pull a list of who was on the flight, couldn’t she? I can’t believe there would be a bunch of people named Nicki on it. If she got us a last name, it gives us something to go on. We could check her out, and then if something about her is weird, or if she sent the article for a bad reason, we can take what we know to the cops.”

Alex was shaking his head before I’d even finished talking. “No way. My mom, the airline . . . that stuff is super private. You can’t just ask for a list of people.”

“All we need is her last name, not her credit card information or anything.”

“We’ll find another way.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Look, even the police have to get all kinds of special clearance to get a passenger manifest—?my mom’s not going to break that rule for you.”

I bit my lip. “But she’d get it for you.”

He looked away.

“I have to do something. I can’t go to the police with nothing. All they’re going to hear is that I used to date him, that I was on that same train platform, and that I admitted he broke my heart weeks ago. No way will they think I got over him. They’re going to think I did it. They’ll lock me up and consider the case closed.” I couldn’t tell Alex all of it, that if the police knew everything, they’d have even more reasons to point fingers in my direction.

Alex shifted uncomfortably. “I get why you’re freaked out, but I don’t know. This is a stretch. I don’t see what this Nicki girl has to do with Connor’s death.”

“You could tell your mom you met Nicki and liked her, that you want her name so you can find her.”

He rolled his eyes. “First off, no way my mom is buying that story. I’m not the kind of guy who starts chatting up girls on a plane. Second, even if she did buy the story, she isn’t going to give me someone’s name so I can go all creepy stalker on some passenger on the flight.”

Hot tears streamed down my face. Alex leaped up and brought back the box of Kleenex from the desk. “Don’t cry,” he pleaded. I wasn’t sad—?I was frustrated—?but I didn’t know how to explain it. Alex groaned. “Hey, it’s going to be okay. I’ll think of something to tell my mom so I can ask her.”

I threw my arms around him. The hug that started with a rush of gratitude began to feel like something else. Charged, an awareness of each of our bodies, every sliver of space that they touched lit up with neon light. At the same moment, we both sat back, suddenly aware that we were alone in my room.

Alex stood up, digging his thumbs into a seam on his jeans. “Have some candy and take a nap or something. I’ll email my mom and see what I can do.”

“I really appreciate it.”

He blushed. “No problem.”

But it was a problem. I knew he didn’t want to ask her, that he was doing it just for me. That both thrilled me and made me sad. I linked pinkie fingers with him. “Thanks,” I said.

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