Home.”
“Right. You’re in your apartment.”
“Bing!”
“Do you know what day it is?”
“Bzzzz.” Then a longish pause. Finally, a bunch of syllables that sounded like “Saturday.”
“Honey, it’s Tuesday.”
“No. Uh-uh.” Ashley cleared her throat. “No way in hell.” Her voice was back. “Can’t be. What happened?”
“You met that guy Aaron at a bar? You remember breaking up with him?”
“I did? I did.”
“Yeah, you did, sweetie. Then you went to an improv event. Remember Superman streaking across the sky over Copley Square?” Diana wiped away a tear. She was so relieved.
“And Batman. ’N Lone Ranger.”
“And probably Tinker Bell.” Diana laughed, feeling giddy.
Ashley started to laugh too. “Ow, that hurts.”
“And what happened after that?” Diana said. “That was four days ago.”
“I . . .” Dead silence.
“Ash?”
A hiccup and a sniffle. Ashley was crying.
“I’m on my way over there right now. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Twenty minutes, max. Do—not—go—anywhere. You got that?”
Ashley didn’t respond.
“You’re going to wait until I get there, right?”
Finally Ashley mumbled something and Diana disconnected the call.
Pam rolled over. Piled in her lap were Diana’s jacket, her laptop, backpack, and the driftwood walking stick. “Let me know what happens. Here’s my phone number.” She indicated a Post-it note that she’d stuck to the laptop case. “Or just show up. Anytime. Day or night. And if there’s anything I can do . . .”
“Thanks. I’ll probably take you up on that.”
“And I hope you don’t mind, but I checked your computer. Made sure that there weren’t more programs broadcasting your whereabouts. I found a key logger and trashed it too.”
Key logger? That meant someone had been spying on her, capturing her every keystroke.
“There might be more, but I ran out of time. Someone’s really been messing with you.”
“Tell me about it,” Diana said. She kissed Pam on the cheek, grabbed her things, and flew out of the apartment.
She’s back. She’s back. She’s back. Diana repeated the words, trying to make herself believe it as she sprinted down the stairs, not bothering to wait for the elevator. She passed the pizza deliveryman on the way in. Opened the Hummer with the remote and jumped in. Started it up with a roar and peeled out onto the street.
Unleashed by bourbon and Xanax, Diana did everything she detested in other drivers. Tailgated and flashed her lights at cars poking along in front of her. Passed on the right. Revved her engine and leaned on the horn when the car in front of her failed to accelerate the instant a light turned green. Barreled through lights that had just turned red. Earned herself more than a few emphatic honks and expressive fingers.
Hey, bad behavior was rewarded—despite afternoon rush-hour traffic, she made what would normally have been a thirty-minute trip from the South End to the Wharf View apartments in under twenty.
Diana screeched to a halt in a visitors’ space in front of Ashley’s apartment building and got out of the Hummer. Between the old-fashioned street lamps, the high-beam spotlights mounted on the building, and a huge yellow moon that seemed to be rising right out of the Neponset River, the parking lot felt lit up like a stage set.
Parked right next to her was Ashley’s Mini Cooper. The side window had been left open. Diana peered in. Ashley was damned lucky that no one else had noticed the huge white purse, sitting there on the backseat in broad view, asking to be appropriated. Diana reached in and grabbed it before hurrying into the building.
The wait for the elevator seemed longer than the drive over. On the ride up, Diana shifted Ashley’s purse to her other shoulder. What was she carrying around in there? Cinder blocks? She peered inside. A copy of Vogue accounted for some of the weight. Also a quart-size container of hand sanitizer.
The elevator door opened and Diana trotted up the hall. She was about to knock on the apartment door when she realized that it was ajar.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Apartment door left open? Purse left on the backseat of her car? Diana burst into the apartment. A quick glance told her Ashley wasn’t in the living room or kitchen.
She closed the door and attached the chain lock. Ran to the closed bedroom door and pushed it open. Inside, it was dark and smelled like steamed gym socks. She could just make out the bedcovers mounded over what looked like a body.
“Ashley?” she said, creeping closer.
Ashley’s blond hair was all that was visible. Her BlackBerry was on the floor by the bed, still on,