You Owe Me a Murder(31)

Alex leaned in and kissed me quickly on the side of the mouth. It could have been just a friendly thing, but we both knew it wasn’t. It was more than that; it held a zap of connection, like a completed electrical circuit. We stared at each other, the air between us crackling with energy. I wanted to step forward into the space between us and pull his head to mine, this time to kiss him properly, but I was scared. “Okay. See you later,” he finally said.

I nodded and he backed out of the room.

“Later,” I repeated. I closed the door behind him and leaned against it.

I was going to find Nicki. It was going to be okay. She would tell me she had nothing to do with this. Miriam would call me back and say she hadn’t meant anything, she’d just been upset. I checked my phone, but there was still nothing from her. I felt a flash of annoyance but forced myself to take a deep breath. All of this would go away, leaving me and Alex alone. Together.





Fourteen


August 21


10 Days Remaining


I fished through the bin of scarves. I wasn’t the kind of person who was known for wearing accessories, but the colors had caught my eye—?really, everything in Covent Garden was designed to attract attention. Our group had split up, with everyone weaving between the aisles, checking out everything from clothing to handmade chocolates. Each stall was different from the one before, populated by people calling for your attention. Tasha had tried to get everyone interested in the history of the place, but we were more intrigued by the jewelry stalls than her stories about Henry the VIII stealing the land from the church, or how the area used to be a seedy red-light district. She gave up and told us to meet back at the entrance in an hour.

“Three fer price of two,” the woman running the scarf stall said to me. “I get ’em from India, mostly. Here, let me.” She rummaged around and pulled out one with swirling turquoise, blue, and green paisley. “This would go with your skin tone.”

I took it from her fingers and held it up next to my face, considering it in the tiny mirror she’d suspended from wires on the side of the stall. The scarf did look nice.

“Lean in.” She reached over and with a few quick movements had it tied around my neck. “There you go, right as roses. Make you a deal for one, just a fiver.”

I glanced at my reflection. I looked different. Older, maybe. Vaguely French. The trip was changing me. I’d come for the wrong reasons, but despite everything it seemed as though the trip was turning into exactly what I needed.

“I’ll take it.” I handed over some cash, patting the scarf around my neck.

“I have to talk to you.” Alex appeared beside me. He grabbed my elbow and began leading me away. He waved off the offer of a receipt from the clerk.

“I wanted her to show me how to tie this,” I said, but he’d already guided me toward a hallway that led to the bathrooms.

A group of senior tourists, all wearing HI, MY NAME IS . . . nametags, passed us, and Alex paused until they were gone.

“I heard back from my mom.”

I waited for him to say more, but he was silent, arms crossed over his chest. His bony elbows made sharp triangles in his sweatshirt. My stomach shifted uneasily. “Was she mad that you asked for Nicki’s last name?”

“No. I mean, sorta, but that’s not the problem. I don’t know how to tell you this.”

My gut went into free fall. “Just tell me.”

“There was no one named Nicki on the flight,” Alex said softly.

I blinked, trying to make sense of what he’d said. Of course Nicki had been on the flight. “Maybe Nicki is short for something,” I suggested.

“There was no Nicole, or Nicola, or Colette, Nikol, Nykia, Niko, Niks.” Alex listed off the names in a flat monotone. “There was no single female traveler on the plane with any N name.”

“But that’s not possible,” I protested. I hadn’t imagined her.

“I don’t know what to say,” he said.

“That’s the name she gave me,” I insisted, feeling prickles of panic. She had been there.

It felt as if my brain were spinning on a hamster wheel, going faster and faster. I hadn’t told him the details about my conversation with Nicki about Connor. I had no idea how to bring up the subject. What would he think of me if he knew I had said that stuff, even as a joke? I seized on the only evidence I had. “What about the newspaper clipping? Why would she send me that?”

“I was thinking about it,” Alex said. He wouldn’t meet my gaze. “Maybe this has nothing to do with the girl on the plane. Is there a chance it was just random? I mean, nothing was written on the envelope or anything. So maybe someone at Metford saw the article and meant to put it in Tasha’s box, but it ended up in yours instead. You’ve been assuming the two things are connected, but maybe they’re not.”

I stared at him in disbelief. “I didn’t make this up,” I said. I wished I hadn’t destroyed the copy she’d written on, that would show definitively that meeting her and the article were connected, but then he’d want an explanation of what the message meant. But the article with her note had been real. I remembered tearing it into a million pieces.

“I wasn’t saying that you did,” Alex rushed to explain. “She totally could have sent the note, but maybe it’s just a coincidence. If she did send it, that’s some pretty whacked-out shit.”