He went back to the stairwell and walked all the way down to the basement level. He passed through the fluorescent-lit basement, thankful that it was empty, then found the back stairwell that would lead to the kitchen entrance to Kate’s apartment. At least, he thought it would. He was always leaving that entrance unlocked in his own place and was hopeful that Kate had as well. At the very least, he could talk with her through the door without having to stand in the hallway. He could say his piece.
He climbed to the top of the steep, narrow stairwell and quietly tried the knob. It was locked. He was about to knock when he had an idea. Sanders the cat was always scratching at his own back door, trying to get into his apartment. He wondered if he’d done the same here. Knowing it was a terrible idea, but deciding to do it anyway, Alan half knocked, half scratched at the door. And waited.
He heard faint footsteps in the kitchen, and then the door was being opened, and he was looking at Kate’s horrified face. He quickly put his hands up, stepping across the threshold with one foot. “Please let me in,” he said, willing his voice to sound harmless.
Kate pressed a hand against her chest. She was pale, as though all the blood had drained from her face.
“I need to talk with you. I can do it from here, but we need to talk. I don’t think you should be in this apartment. You should be in my apartment.” The words weren’t coming out the way he’d planned.
“You’re really drunk,” Kate said.
“I know. I know. I met Jack, and he told me all about Corbin and he got me drunk.”
“Who’s Jack?”
“Jack. Jack. That guy who was friends with Audrey that you told me about. On the street. You met him on the street.”
Before answering, Alan began to move farther into the kitchen. Kate jumped back, said, “No, no. Stay there.”
Alan took a step back. “You’re not scared of me? Oh no, you’re scared of me.” He felt terrible, and kept apologizing.
Kate said, “It’s okay. I know you’re sorry. Tell me about Jack.”
“I saw him this morning coming out of the building—”
“Coming out of where? Out of here?”
“Yes. Right after the police arrived. I didn’t recognize him, but he was looking up at your window, so I followed him and he caught me and then we were talking. We went to that bar you and I . . . St. Stephen’s, and he told me about his theory, how Corbin’s a serial killer.”
“What do you mean a serial killer?”
“He said that there was this other girl that Corbin murdered. She was also mutilated, and he’s sure that Corbin killed Audrey, and I just don’t think it’s safe for you to be in this apartment all by yourself.”
“If Corbin killed Audrey, then he’s not going to come back here, is he? That wouldn’t make any sense.”
“Then you’re going to stay here? Tonight?”
“Alan, I’m sorry. I think we rushed into things last night, and it was . . . for me, it was a mistake. No, let me talk. Let’s meet tomorrow, okay? For coffee or something in the morning, and we can talk about all of this. But not now. Not while you’re like this. Okay?”
It was the expression on Kate’s face as she said okay that made Alan realize he needed to leave. She looked like she was about to cry. Alan, without saying anything, turned and walked back down the stairwell, pressing his palms against the walls to keep himself steady.
Back in his apartment he lay on his bed, shoes kicked off, jeans and T-shirt still on. When he closed his eyes, the room tilted. When he opened them, the world stood still. He kept them open as long as possible, trying to reassemble in his mind everything that had happened that day, everything that had happened recently. He closed his eyes. The room tilted again, but backward, and Alan slid into a deep, troubled sleep.
Chapter 25
It’s time to go home, Kate thought, after Alan had finally left. Back to England. She placed a hand on the kitchen countertop to steady herself.
She felt George’s voice rising in her head, his words starting to form, and she managed to stop him from speaking to her by pacing the kitchen floor.
I should never have left the country. I should never have left my parents’ house. Not