You Are Not Alone(84)

A teakettle whistles and Jody hurries over to turn off the stove’s burner. “I thought we could have some tea.” Next to the stove are three china cups on saucers.

“Thanks, Jody, but I don’t think there’s time. We should check Shay’s room in case she has a weapon or something,” Cassandra says. “Just to be safe. I’m sure you’re fine—I mean, you made it through last night.”

Jody nods and heads for the farthest door, her movements quick and a little jerky. She’s on edge now, just as the sisters want her to be.

“It’s my office now.” Jody twists the knob.

All Jane needs is a few seconds to hide the photo—and then they can guide Jody to it.

Valerie had suggested a compartment of Shay’s purse, but if the bag isn’t accessible, Jane plans to shove it between the pages of her Data Book or even under the mattress.

Jody is rambling. “I just can’t believe it. Once there was this ladybug in the kitchen and Shay carried it down the stairs and put it on a bush outside.… But isn’t that the kind of person you’re always hearing about on the news? Those unlikely suspects?”

Cassandra nods as she scans the room. It’s clean and uncluttered, with a blanket stretched tightly across the pullout futon.

Jody flits around the room, peering under the futon, then lifting the pillows one by one.

Jane edges toward the bag and is about to reach for it when Jody looks up. “Should we check her purse?”

“Ooh, good idea,” Cassandra replies.

Jody peers into the bag as she holds its handles open. “Nothing in here.”

Jane slips the photo between the pages of Shay’s Data Book, which is at the foot of the futon.

Jane opens the closet door. “Nothing here either.”

“Should we look in her creepy notebook to see if she wrote anything recently?” suggests Cassandra.

Jane grabs it and begins flipping the pages. The picture flutters out.

Jody bends down to retrieve it. Cassandra holds her breath. Both sisters stare as Jody looks at the photograph of Amanda on the High Line, wearing a straw hat and tilting up her chin.

Jody looks up, her face creased in confusion. “Why would Shay draw an X over herself?”

Then she glances down and gasps. “It isn’t her! I thought it was at first, but it’s just a woman who looks like her!”

Cassandra and Jane edge closer to Jody, pretending to study the picture of Amanda—the one they printed out and drew the slashing black X over only days ago.

Cassandra sucks in her breath sharply. “That’s our friend Amanda!”

Jody looks from Cassandra to Jane. “Why would Shay have her picture?”

“Shay knew her, too,” Jane says. “But Amanda committed suicide in August.” Jane shakes her head sorrowfully.

“That’s actually how we met Shay,” Cassandra tells Jody. “She came to Amanda’s memorial service.”

“Wait a second, this doesn’t make any sense!” Jody cries. She presses the fingertips of her left hand against her forehead. “Shay saw someone commit suicide in August, in a subway station.”

“Oh my God,” Cassandra says as she takes a step back. Jane sinks onto the edge of the futon.

“That was Amanda who died in the Thirty-third Street station,” Cassandra whispers as Jane drops her face in her hands. “Shay told us they shared a veterinarian, and that’s how they knew each other. Are you telling us that Shay was in that subway station at the moment Amanda died?”

“A veterinarian?” Jody stares at them both, her mouth agape. “Shay doesn’t have a pet! So why would she…”

Before Jody can continue, Jane’s cell phone chimes with the special ringtone assigned to Valerie. Jane yanks her phone out of her left coat pocket and glances at the screen: She’s coming.

Valerie is staking out the front of the building. The warning means the sisters have only a few moments to get out of the apartment.

“Shay just texted to say she’s almost home and wants Cassandra and me to come over,” Jane says urgently. “We’ve got to get out of here!”

Jody backs out of the room. She starts to grab a coat and boots out of the closet by the front door.

“You don’t have time to put those on!” Cassandra hisses. There isn’t even enough time to make it downstairs.

The three women scramble up to the fourth-floor landing. They hear footsteps climbing up less than a minute later. Then comes the distant sound of a door opening and closing.

Jody is crouched on the bottom stair, still holding the photo. “I feel sick,” she whispers. “I can’t believe this is the woman Shay says she saw commit suicide.”

“Jody, you’ve got to tell the police what you found,” Cassandra urges.

Shay’s history of stalking has already been established. She was fired from her last job, and she suffered a crushing romantic rejection. She has exhibited bizarre behavior, including trying to slip into the life of a dead woman.

Is it such a leap for anyone to believe Shay might also be capable of murder?

Jody stares down at the blue sky, the sunlight on Amanda’s face, the jagged X drawn across her skin. “I’ll call the police right now,” she whispers.