You Owe Me a Murder(69)

I went through my room quickly, pulling out all my things. I wasn’t sure what would happen after tonight, but I didn’t want to risk that other people would go through my stuff later. I ripped pages out of the travel journal I’d brought with me. There wasn’t much in there—?I hadn’t written down all the details about Nicki; most of it was about Alex—?but I wasn’t taking chances. I dropped the sheets into the metal trash can and set them on fire with a match, blowing the smoke out the window. I also burned the newspaper article about Connor and the photocopy of the list Nicki had sent. I watched them until they had charred to unsalvageable ash.

I refolded my clothes and lined them up on the shelf after shaking out each item, making sure I’d left nothing behind and that Nicki hadn’t sneaked anything into a pocket. It was something she’d do.

The communal bathroom was just a few doors down, but instead I went two flights up to the other girls’ floor to make sure I didn’t run into anyone I knew. I stripped down and took a quick shower. London was a dirty city, but the reason I felt as if I needed to scrub my skin raw didn’t have anything to do with the smog that could settle on your hair and skin.

I checked my phone when I got back to my room. It was still way too early to do anything, barely four in the afternoon. I needed to wait until it was dark. That meant I had hours to kill. There was no way I could eat anything; my stomach was rock hard. I lay down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. My brain raced, cycling around the idea that I was really going to do this.



* * *





I jolted awake. My room was dark. I didn’t know what had woken me, and then I realized my phone was chiming to let me know I had a new text. I fumbled for the device in the dark and clicked it on. Tasha.



Want to see you. Meet me in lobby?





I rolled out of bed onto my feet. Shit. I had planned to be gone before they got back. It had never occurred to me I might fall asleep. I checked the time—?it was after nine. I’d slept for five hours. I shook my head to clear it. My heart went from a slow speed to a full gallop. If I didn’t text her back, she’d come looking for me. I yanked on my gray fleece and tossed my messenger bag over my shoulder. I had to get out of here. Now.

I crept down the stairs and peered around the corner. Tasha and our group were in the lobby. Sophie was leaning against Jamal. There was something brewing there. Kendra and Jazmin were hotly debating something, but Tasha was barely paying attention to them. There was no way to walk out the front door without someone spotting me.

I had another option that didn’t require me to go right past them—?following the stairs into the basement—?but there was still a chance the group would see me. I stood like a flamingo, one foot on the step and the other waiting to make a move. I closed my eyes and took a slow, deep breath in and out. I had to at least try. Being scared didn’t mean you didn’t do it. I hefted my bag back up on my shoulder and took the last few steps quickly, wrapping around the balustrade so that I was headed down to the basement. No one seemed to look my way.

I crossed my fingers, but luck was on my side: the laundry room was empty. A high and narrow window was above the folding table. I jumped up onto the table and twisted the window’s rusty lock. The casement was stuck. I hunched over and used my shoulder to shove open the window.

Mentally I calculated the space. It was going to be tight. It was a good thing I hadn’t eaten dinner. I pulled off my fleece to give myself a bit of extra wiggle room and tossed the jacket and my bag outside. Then I hefted myself up, swinging one leg through until I was lying flat on the sill, one leg still hanging down inside. My hand scrambled to find something to grab so I could pull myself out, but there was nothing in reach. I sucked in my breath and squeezed through. My arm scraped on the cement and then suddenly I was free.

I lay on the asphalt for a second gazing up. I could see the lights on in various dorm rooms, but thankfully no one seemed to be looking down at me. I pulled myself into a crouch, yanking my fleece back on and grabbing my bag.

It was time. I walked to the Tube station and did my best to glance around casually as I rode the escalator down to see if anyone was following me. I waited on the platform, feigning an interest in the posters that lined the walls advertising theater shows, museum exhibits, and sales at H&M. When the train pulled in, I got in a car, and when the doors pinged that they were closing, I jammed my arm out, making the doors bounce back open. I quickly got off. No one else exited the train. If anyone had been following me, no one would have been expecting that move. Two minutes later the next train pulled in and I got on that one instead.

I changed at Edgware, taking the stairs as if I intended to leave the station and then doubling back so I could get on the Circle line. Near as I could tell, no one was behind me. I sat on the train and it took off with a lurch. The carriage smelled vaguely like motor oil mixed with lemons. I picked up the abandoned newspaper on the seat next to me and stared down at a Marks & Spencer ad so I didn’t have to look around. The guy standing in front of me had his music on so loud I could make out the song leaking from his ear buds. The train lurched and squealed as it went around corners.

I stared out the window in the dark tunnel. Alex’s parents must have been here by now. The hospital had probably already discharged him. I could picture his mom fussing over him, and Alex dodging away from her touch. I wished I could make him understand. I pinched my thigh. I couldn’t afford to think about him now. Even conjuring up his face in my mind caused a dull ache in my chest, like someone pushing on a bruise. I had to stay focused.