Chapter 28

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Tonight I have another date with Tom.

It's our third date, if you count the one after my epic nosebleed. Thankfully, we got through a second date during which no part of me started spurting blood, and I felt like it was a major win. Tonight I'm considering inviting him over to my apartment, and it's honestly all I can think about during our four-o'clock yoga class.

"What are you smiling about?" Gretchen asks me as she rolls up her mat. After Bonnie's murder, we didn't go to yoga anymore for an entire month because it felt like it would be weird without her. But then Gretchen said her back was hurting without the class, and I was starting to get tense without it, so here we are. And honestly, it isn't that different with just the two of us.

"I have a date tonight," I admit.

"Ooh." Gretchen's eyes sparkle with excitement. "Is it with Dr. Perfect?"

That is Gretchen's nickname for Tom. It is weirdly apt. So far, I haven't found anything wrong with the guy. Well, aside from the fact that he cuts up dead bodies for a living. "Yes, it is."

"Wow, you really like him, don't you?"

"I really do."

I'm falling for Tom faster and harder than I expected. We've only had two dates, and I'm already fantasizing about the place settings at our wedding and the house we would buy in the suburbs. Of course, I realize how stupid that is. Again, we are only on date three. There is plenty of time to discover that Tom is a total jerk.

And yet, he doesn't seem like one. He seems like a genuinely nice guy.

"Do you think he could be the One?" she asks teasingly.

"It's too soon to know."

"Liar. You think he's the One. It's all over your face."

I can't quite meet her gaze, because she's absolutely right.

On the way out of the yoga class, Arlene has put out a plate of chocolate samples. See, this is why I love yoga. We get to spend an hour stretching as we listen to relaxing music, meditate, and then at the end we get chocolate . Gretchen and I both grab a little square.

"Enjoy!" Arlene says. "The chocolate is actually made by my friend's company. It's all natural, shade grown, and ethically traded. And it's over ninety percent cocoa."

"Sounds delicious," Gretchen says.

"Also," she says, "I'm so glad to see the two of you back in class again. I wanted to say how sorry I was to hear about Bonnie."

"Thank you," I murmur.

"If it helps," she says as she strokes the beads she always wears around her neck, "I have been feeling Bonnie's spirit in the studio when you're here. I think she is still joining you in class."

I want to say that doesn't help even a little bit, but Gretchen clutches her chest and tells her thank you so much. Despite what Arlene and Gretchen might believe, Bonnie's spirit is not lingering in the yoga studio. My friend is dead and buried in the ground, and nobody even knows who did it to her. And I'm beginning to worry we never will.

As Gretchen and I are walking down the steps to the exit, the two of us pop our squares of chocolate into our mouths. We exchange looks, and Gretchen spits the chocolate back into her hand. "Oh my God!" she cries. "It's like eating a square of dirt!"

I can't quite bring myself to spit the chocolate out, so I suffer silently until I manage to swallow it. Wow, that was some disgusting chocolate. (Note to self: never take chocolate offered during yoga class ever again.)

While I'm looking at the glass door of the building that houses the yoga studio, my heart skips a beat. There's a man standing near the door with a ponytail. Is that…the Real Kevin?

I've been seeing him more than I should just based on pure coincidence. At least half a dozen times since our date, including that questionable sighting at Bonnie's funeral that I've become increasingly sure really was him. A few days ago, I was buying a bagel at a deli, and he got in line behind me. He acted surprised to see me, but I wasn't falling for it. I got out of the line and locked myself in the bathroom until I was pretty sure he'd given up and left. Before that, he came up behind me a few weeks ago when I was buying some gum at a newsstand. He tried to make conversation before I dashed into a subway station. It feels like he could pop up at any minute and it's freaking me out.

Is that the real Kevin outside the yoga studio?

"Syd?" Gretchen frowns. "You okay?"

The guy comes a little closer, and his features come into focus. And oh my God, it's him. It's Kevin . Standing outside the glass door of the yoga studio, peering inside at me.

Our eyes make contact before I have a chance to pretend not to notice him. He feigns surprise and waves at me. I do not wave back.

"Who is that?" Gretchen asks me.

I turn away, hoping he'll get the message that I'm not going to come out and have a conversation with him. "It's that jerk I went out with months ago—you know, the one who tried to kiss me and I kneed him in the groin? I think he may be following me around."

"You mean the one who you thought you saw at Bonnie's funeral?"

I nod.

Gretchen rotates her head to try to get a look at him, and I grab her arm. "Don't look!"

"Sorry—I'm sorry." She pulls me off into the main studio, out of view of the glass door. "This is horrible, Syd! You need to do something about it."

"I don't even know his full name." Frankly, I'm not even sure Kevin is his first name. "I reported him to Cynch. And I told the detective investigating Bonnie's murder. So what else can I do? And he hasn't done anything, you know, threatening exactly."

"Ugh, why are guys such idiots?"

It's a question for the ages. "It's fine. I'm sure he'll get tired of me eventually."

Gretchen seems willing to accept this assessment of the situation. Bonnie wouldn't have let me drop it this way—she'd probably have marched me down to the police station to find out about a restraining order. But she's dead.

"Speaking of guys who are not jerks," Gretchen says, "I've got some exciting news."

I hate myself for bracing for the worst. "Oh?"

"Randy and I are moving in together!"

I instantly forget all about the Kevin sighting outside. "Gretchen, that's amazing!"

She looks so happy, and I can't help but throw my arms around her, even though I'm not entirely thrilled. Gretchen could do a lot better than Randy. I might not think he is as creepy as Bonnie did, but there's something about him that makes me uneasy…

Still, how am I supposed to say that to my friend? I have no choice but to be happy for her.

"It will take me all of five minutes to move my stuff to his apartment," she says. "I'm basically leaving everything behind. And guess what? This means you and I will be neighbors!"

"Yay!" I say, managing to muster up an appropriate amount of enthusiasm.

"Anyway," she says, "I'm heading down to my apartment now to grab some stuff. Do you feel like taking a subway ride?"

I shake my head. "Not particularly."

"Oh, right. You have your date with Dr. Perfect." She winks at me. "Well, have fun! I'm assuming you don't need a rescue call."

"Definitely not."

Thankfully, Arlene is able to direct me to an alternate exit to the studio, through the back, so I can avoid Kevin. Gretchen walks off in the direction of the subway while I head back to my apartment building. My date with Tom isn't for a couple of hours, but I need to shower, and I'm probably going to obsessively try on everything in my closet between now and then.

While I'm crossing Eighth Avenue, my phone starts ringing in my purse. I pull it out just in time for a cab driver to whizz past me, splashing dirty rain water on my sneakers—all rain instantly turns black the second it hits the New York pavement. Jake's number flashes on the screen.

Oh my God, did they figure out who killed Bonnie?

The light for the crosswalk is flashing red, counting down the seconds until I get to the other side. They never give you enough time to cross avenue streets—it's like whoever put the timer in these lights thinks we're Olympic sprinters. But even so, I take the call. "Jake?"

"Hey, Syd." He pauses. "Where are you? It sounds really loud."

"I'm outdoors. Outdoors is loud."

"Right, right." He heaves a sigh on the other end of the line. "Do you have a minute to talk?"

I grip the phone tighter. "Did you find the killer?"

"No."

Disappointment surges through me. "You promised you would. It's been two months, Jake."

"I know, but—"

I step back onto the sidewalk, having successfully crossed Eighth Avenue without getting mowed down by a yellow taxi, which is never a given. "So why the hell are you calling then?"

"I'm just worried about you. I wanted to make sure you're okay."

"I don't understand. Why are you so worried?"

He's quiet for a moment on the other line. "Look, there's something you should know."

"Something I should know?" This doesn't sound good. "What should I know?"

"We found another victim."

" What? "

"You heard me." He sounds like he's gritting his teeth. "There was another hit in the database from about three years ago. Similar MO to the other two—the missing hair cut close to the scalp. Traces of DNA were found that match what we found in Bonnie's apartment."

I stop short in the middle of the sidewalk, suddenly feeling like I can't breathe. "Are you serious? So this is a serial killer?"

"Yes."

"But I didn't see anything about that in the paper."

"We're doing our best to keep it out of the paper. We don't want people to panic."

"You mean, like the way I'm panicking right now?"

"Look…" Jake sounds far too calm given the gravity of what he just told me. "We are going to find this guy. But in the meantime, keep doing what you're doing. Lock your doors. You're staying off Cynch, right?"

"Are you worried about my safety, or do you just want me to die single and alone?"

"Sydney…"

"Forget it. I'm kidding."

I'm still frozen on the sidewalk. Pedestrians are filtering around me on both sides, several of them shooting me dirty looks, but I can't seem to make my feet move again.

"Listen, Syd…" Jake clears his throat, "if you're…I mean, if you're not doing anything, I could come over tonight to keep you company. I'll bring Chinese food. We don't have to talk about the case at all. We can watch a movie or something."

My mouth drops open slightly. "Are you asking me on a date ?"

"No! I'm just saying, if you want some company tonight… You were saying you don't want to be alone, so I thought…"

"Well, you don't need to worry about me. I actually have a date tonight."

"You do?" I try not to feel offended by how astonished Jake sounds. "With who?"

A man in a puffy coat actually gives me the finger for my audacity to be standing still for five seconds on a New York City sidewalk, which buoys me to start walking again before someone cuts my throat. "With none of your business."

"I'm not trying to be nosy, Sydney," he says. "I'm just worried about you."

"Well, no need to worry. He's a really good guy. And…I like him a lot."

"Oh." Jake's voice drops a few notches. "Well, that's great. I'm happy for you. You deserve a great guy. And…you trust him?"

"Jake!"

"All right, all right." He sighs. "I'm just saying, please be careful. And if you have any concerns about the guy at all, if you want a background check or whatever, just give me a call. Anytime."

I have to admit, Jake has a way of making me feel safe. He is so tall and strong and serious. Back when we were dating, it was like I had a bodyguard looking after me at all times. It's comforting to know that even though we're not together anymore, he is still looking out for me.

But I don't need him to look out for me. I've got Tom, after all.