anyone anywhere. It was the type of ridiculous but well-meaning proclamation that Kate’s father might make. Kate, herself, from the moment she saw the worried woman knocking frantically on her new neighbor’s door, knew that someone was dead. It was how her mind worked. And knowing that her mind worked that way—constantly stretching logic all the way to its worst possible conclusion—did not lessen her certainty. Already that day, Kate had known that the youth with the sweaty forehead and the fuzzy mustache in the departures lounge was carrying a homemade explosive device in his backpack. And she had known that the stretch of turbulence over the Atlantic Ocean would grow in ferocity until it ripped one of the jet’s wings off as easily as a sadistic child shredding a butterfly. These hadn’t happened, but that didn’t mean that behind the door down the hall, there wasn’t a dead or dying girl. Of course there was.
Kate turned her attention to Carol, who was still fiddling with the key. She wondered if the tumblers of the lock were too much for Carol’s birdlike bones to handle, then heard, with immense relief, the oily snap of the door unlocking. Even though she’d never been in Corbin’s apartment, she’d already taken possession of it in her mind. She badly wanted to get inside and feel the safety of a home. It felt like years since she’d stepped out of the comfort of her London flat, double-checking the lock of the outside door, a minicab idling at the curb. Carol swung the door inward just as Kate heard voices again in the hall. She turned to see the doorman, Bob, lugging the duffel bag, the chinless woman at his side protesting her case. “Let me take care of this young lady first, then we’ll see to your friend,” he was saying.
Carol ushered Kate into her new home, and Kate immediately asked for the toilet. “Of course, dear, there’s one attached to the bedroom,” Carol said, pointing, and Kate walked rapidly, barely taking in the extravagance of her surroundings before shutting herself into an enormous bathroom, tiled in black and white. She sat on the toilet lid, and even though she knew the pills weren’t there, she opened her purse anyway. Inside, tucked into the side pocket, was her plastic bottle of benzodiazepines. As soon as she saw them, she remembered moving the bottle from her suitcase to her bag early that morning. How had she forgotten that so soon? With trembling hands she unscrewed the lid and dry-swallowed a pill. A feeling of dread—almost worse than the panic—spread over her.
She should never have come to America.
Chapter 2
Even though the apartment was enormous, it shouldn’t have taken Carol Valentine thirty minutes to deliver the tour, but she clearly relished the role. She pointed out the walnut-stained oak floors, the coffered ceilings, the working fireplace, and what she called the Juliet balcony, which was really just a hip-high railing one foot out from the floor-to-ceiling French doors that Kate knew she would never open. The apartment wasn’t particularly high up, but it was high enough.
“You like it?” Carol asked, after the tour was complete, even though Kate had expressed her admiration about thirty times already.
“I do. I love it. Cozy.”
“It’s beautifully furnished, don’t you think? You’d think a young man like Corbin . . .” Carol left the thought unfinished and smiled with just her mouth, the papery skin that covered her face shifting in such a way that Kate felt like she could see the exact contours of the woman’s skull. “What’s your apartment—your flat—like in London?”
“All of it would fit in this living room,” Kate said. “I’m feeling a little guilty. I got the better bargain.”
“Yes, but London . . .”
Kate yawned, quickly covering her mouth.
“My dear, you must be exhausted. I forgot all about the time change.”
“I am tired,” Kate said. “It’s my bedtime if I were home.”
“Well, try to stay up a little later than you usually do so you get used to it here. And as soon as you get settled in, you’ll have to come and have a drink. I’m on the other side, exactly opposite. Our place has the same layout as yours. These end apartments are the absolute best in the building. Especially yours, since you have a view toward the city and a view toward the river.” She lowered her voice, as though the other apartments might hear what she was saying.
“It’s beautiful,” Kate said.
“The building was