You Owe Me a Murder(32)

“Yeah.” I wasn’t sure what was worse, that he thought I was cracking apart and delusional or that I was being trailed by a psycho.

“I think we should talk to Tasha about your worries. She’ll know what to do.”

I leaned forward. “No. Absolutely not.”

“C’mon, Tasha seems pretty cool! If nothing else, she can get the clerks at Metford to keep an eye out for this Nicki girl. If she did drop off a clipping and she’s crazy, you don’t want her wandering around Metford. That place is easy as hell to break into. The only security they have is that one guard who is possibly older than this place. You can pop the locks for the rooms with a credit card, for crying out loud.”

“Or Tasha might tell the police about me dating Connor. No way. I don’t want to be dragged into that investigation.”

“You’re not going to be dragged into anything. Anyone who meets you for ten minutes is going to know you wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

I forced a smile on my face, but it felt plastic and fake. He didn’t know the full story. “I know, but maybe you’re right. It might just be a coincidence that the article showed up. Before we make a move, let’s see if anything else happens first.”

Alex shifted uneasily. “Are you sure?”

“Totally,” I said with confidence I didn’t feel. “Hey, I’m going to grab a souvenir to bring back to my grandma. Will you run ahead and tell Tasha I’ll meet up with you guys later? I want to stay and look around longer.”

Alex hesitated. “Are you sure?” he asked again.

I nodded enthusiastically and gave him a joking push. “Go on, I’ll catch up with you in a little bit.” I waited until he melted into the crowd before I slumped against the cinder-block wall. The cold seeped through my T-shirt. I needed to think. I placed my palms against the wall as if I were holding on to reality and without it I might float away.

I closed my eyes tightly. I hadn’t made up Nicki, or screwed up her name. That’s what she’d called herself. I had sat next to her. We drank that vodka together—?she wasn’t some elaborate manifestation of my imagination. She was real. She’d killed Connor and she’d sent me that note to make sure I knew it.

I was nearly panting. I focused on slowing my breathing down so I didn’t end up having a panic attack. The knot of the scarf had grown tighter. Now it was less of an accessory and more of a noose. My fingers yanked at the fabric for relief, and once the knot was looser I inhaled a greedy breath.

I tried to look at the positive side of the situation. If I’d gone to the police first and they were the ones to discover there had been no Nicki on the flight, it would have been worse. The cops would have thought I was lying and that would make them wonder what I was up to, especially when they heard about my past. Alex might imagine no one would suspect me of anything, but that’s because he was a nice person.

Maybe I should go home. Call my parents and tell them I’d changed my mind. If I left London, Nicki couldn’t do anything to me. I turned the idea over in my head, debating my options. My phone rang. I went to click it off, but the display showed Miriam’s name.

“We have to talk,” she said, not bothering with a hello.

I cut her off before she could say more. “Not on the phone. Tell me where to meet you.”

She was silent for a beat. “I’ll text you the address. Meet me in the lobby.”



* * *





The Ampersand Hotel was in Kensington, not far from Metford House but about one million times nicer. There was a doorman who swept the door open in front of me as if it were magic. The lobby was done in cool gray and white tones. The furniture, wallpaper, and crisply dressed front desk staff all oozed money and opulence.

Miriam stood as soon as I came in and walked past me. “Follow me downstairs—?they’ve got a place we can talk.”

I trailed after her down the winding staircase. There was a hall leading to a restaurant, but she turned so we were in an empty office center where guests could print out documents and get a bit of work done.

Miriam put her hands on her hips, as if she were irritated with me, but I could see something different in her eyes. She looked scared. “We need to talk.”

“What did you mean the other day when you said he didn’t deserve me?”

She sighed. “It’s nothing top-secret. I meant that Connor is a dick . . . was a dick.” Her voice cracked. “I didn’t want you to feel bad about what happened to him.”

“If he was such a dick, why did you date him?” I asked.

She wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I don’t want to get into all of this.”

I lightly touched her elbow. “I need to know.” Now my voice cracked.

Miriam’s hands twisted in front of her. “I was only pretending to be his girlfriend.”

“What?”

She sighed. “Look, Connor went out with a friend of mine at another school, and then after they broke up, he sent naked pictures of her to everyone. Then I heard about what he did to you from a guy I know who is in his crowd. I checked around. He does this stuff all the time, treats girls like they’re a joke. You’re lucky he didn’t have pics of you on his phone, because if he did, they’d be spread all over the Internet.”