Her Every Fear - Peter Swanson Page 0,35

other people were fictional. Alan’s screen went to black, and Kate realized she’d been staring at it.

“I’m fading,” Kate said. “I think I’ll go back soon. I’m not trying to run away from you.”

“That’s okay if you are,” Alan said, and grinned. “I’d understand.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because I just told you how I used to spy on my neighbor through my window and became obsessed with her.”

“No. I really am tired. And I wouldn’t judge anyone for being obsessive. I’ve been thinking about Audrey Marshall ever since I got here.”

“Because she was murdered in the apartment next to yours.”

“No, even before that. When I first heard she was missing, I knew something bad had happened. Well, I always think that—it’s my nature—but I was right this time.”

The waitress appeared with Alan’s drink and asked them if they wanted anything else. Kate asked for a check, then Alan did as well.

“Can I walk back with you?” Alan asked.

Kate pictured the long narrow street that led from the tavern back to the well-lighted busyness of Charles Street. Was Alan a murderer? He’d clearly been obsessed with Audrey. And from afar. But if he was, then why come to her and confess all that he’d confessed? Was it to get information? Find out what she knew?

“It’s totally fine if—” Alan started to say, as though reading Kate’s mind.

“No, we can walk back together. Sorry, I’m spacing out.”

After paying their separate checks, they exited onto the dark street, Alan leaving half his drink behind. The rain had stopped but the trees still dripped, and the sidewalk was covered with fallen magnolia blossoms, the air heavy with their cloying smell.

If we get to the end of this street, and Alan hasn’t strangled me, then he never will, Kate told herself. She began to count the steps silently to herself, but Alan said, as though reading her mind, “I had nothing to do with what happened to Audrey.”

“I know,” Kate said.

“Do you think I should go to the police and tell them what I know?”

“You mean, what you know about Corbin?”

“Yeah.”

“You should, probably, unless Corbin already told them. It’s not as though you have crucial information. You might just have information they already have. I’ll find out for you. I’m definitely e-mailing Corbin tonight. I was putting it off because I didn’t know whether he’d heard from the police yet or not.”

“You’ll let me know?”

“I will,” Kate said. They were halfway down the steep side street, Kate walking slowly in her boots because of the slipperiness of the fallen blossoms and the recent rain. She imagined herself falling, sliding onto Charles Street and getting crushed by some huge American SUV. But they made it all the way down and walked the rest of the way back to Bury Street. They talked some of the way, and Kate felt again the same ease with Alan that she’d felt the first time they’d met, as though they’d known each other for years and years. She reminded herself that she’d once felt the same thing for George Daniels.

They parted ways in the lobby of the building, Kate promising to let Alan know what she found out from Corbin.

“Come by my apartment and let me know. You know where I live.” He smiled, a little crookedly.

“Is your side the exact same as my side?”

“Exactly.” They said goodbye.

Sanders the cat was in the lobby, and he followed Kate up the stairs and down the hall to her door. She opened the door fractionally and placed her foot near the jamb to block him, but he quickly leapt over her foot and into her apartment. She entered and shut the door behind her. The cat was nowhere to be seen, but she decided to not worry about him; it was clear that he belonged to the entire apartment building.

She went straight to her laptop and opened her e-mail account. Corbin had written her:

Just heard about what happened from the police. I’m totally shocked. I didn’t know her that well, but I knew her, of course, a little bit. Do you know what happened? The police only told me that she was dead. Was it a suicide? And how are you doing? I’m sorry that your first few days in America have been stressful, and I understand if you want to come back. It must be scary to arrive in a new place and find out that your neighbor has died. Trust me, it’s a safe apartment building.

Not that it matters much,

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