Chapter 47

Chapter Forty-Seven

PRESENT DAY

SYDNEY

The next morning, I have a Zoom call with a new client.

It's still sort of off-season for me, but a lot of people want to get their finances in order before the end of the calendar year. The man I'm meeting with is named Orson Finley, and our meeting starts in a few minutes, but I'm dreading it. I had a lot of trouble sleeping last night—I can almost feel the purple circles under my eyes, and there's a dull throbbing in my left temple. The last thing I want to do is meet a new client, but it would be unprofessional to cancel.

I'm still not sure I'm doing the right thing by not going to the police about Randy's lack of an alibi. Do I genuinely think Randy is capable of murder? No, I don't. I really don't.

But on the other hand, it wouldn't be the most shocking thing in the world. It wouldn't be like finding out, I don't know, that my mom is a serial killer.

Ultimately, the reason I don't go to the police or even Jake is because of Gretchen—I can't do it to her. If Randy has a criminal history, casting suspicion on him could be enough to wreck his life. Our landlord would almost certainly fire him if they thought there was even a tiny chance he could be responsible for Bonnie's murder. And it would take time and resources away from finding the real killer.

The alert goes off on my phone that it's time to log into my call. I get on my computer, and before I connect, I give myself a once-over in the camera. I dabbed on some concealer that seems to be doing the trick, and I used some lipstick to brighten my face. My hair didn't want to behave this morning, so I pulled back my blond-streaked strands into a ponytail. I ended up using that scrunchie Gretchen gave me to remember Bonnie, and I try my best not to think of the clump of hair missing from her scalp.

I connect the Zoom call, and a second later, a face fills the screen. As the man's gaunt face and messy ponytail come into focus, recognition dawns on me, and the smile drops off my lips.

"Kevin," I gasp. "What the hell?"

The man on the screen is Kevin, a.k.a. Real Kevin, a.k.a. Orson Finley, I guess. At this point, I have no clue what his real name is. All I know for sure is that he has wasted a lot of my time.

"I'm really so sorry to do this, Sydney." His words come out in a jumble. "But every time I manage to find you, you don't want to talk to me."

"Right. Most people would take a hint." I reach for my mouse to disconnect the call. "Goodbye, Kevin. Or Orson. Or whatever your name is."

"Please don't hang up!" He leans closer to the screen so that I can see the dark circles under his eyes. "Please, Sydney! We had one of the best dates I have ever been on. I mean, do you think I introduce my mother to every girl I go out with?"

God, I hope not. "Kevin—"

"You have to give me another chance," he implores me. "Please—just hear me out. Give me sixty seconds."

"Kevin…"

"Sixty seconds. Please ."

Against my better judgment, I nod. I'll give him sixty seconds to get it all out of his system, and I hope he'll leave me alone for good after that.

"You need to know," he says, "that I'm ashamed of the way I treated you the other night. I'm not an aggressive person, but I thought you felt the same way I did, and I took things too far. I'm ashamed, and my dear mother would be ashamed of me too if she knew. I own that, and I'm really sorry, Sydney."

The last thing I expected was an apology from this man (or any man, really). Despite everything, I am impressed. "I appreciate that."

"So what do you think?" he presses me. "Would you consider giving me a second chance?"

Even though I appreciate his apology, I'm dating someone else. And even if I weren't, there's no way I'd ever go on another date with a guy who attacked me. How could he think I would? "I don't think so, Kevin."

His brown eyes bulge from their sockets in front of the camera. "Please, Sydney. I'm begging you. I'd make you so happy."

"I'm sorry," I say, gently but firmly, "but the answer is still no."

"All I want is a chance to sit with you and look at you face-to-face," he pleads with me. "It's not right that I only get to see you through a window."

Wait, what ? "What did you say?"

"I said I want to see you face-to-face."

"No," I say through my teeth, "what did you say about the window ?"

Kevin has a deer-in-headlights look. "Window?"

Shit.

Before Kevin has a chance to utter another word, I hit the red button to disconnect the call. As soon as the screen goes black, I jump out of my ergonomic chair and cross the room to the window. It's not right that I only get to see you through a window. Has that creep been watching me?

Horrified, I stare out my window down at the pedestrians and cars below. From the height of my apartment, the pedestrians look like ants and the cars like children's toys. Nobody could possibly see me up here…could they?

Then I lift my eyes to look at the buildings surrounding me. There are two buildings that have a very decent view of my own building. And within those buildings, there are literally hundreds of windows. Hundreds of opportunities for someone to be watching me.

A chill runs down my spine.

Maybe I should give Jake a call. Then again, he isn't one of those cops who's willing to use his badge to bend the rules and intimidate some jerk who won't leave me alone. He'll tell me I need to get a restraining order, and I just don't need to deal with that hassle right now on top of everything else.

Besides, if I call Jake, I'm not going to be able to keep from telling him about Randy's lack of an alibi.

I grab the string to lower the blinds, and I let out a sigh as they drop down, cutting off my view of the outside world and anyone else's view of me. There—problem solved.

Just as I'm contemplating what to do next, the doorbell rings. I jump away from the window, my heart pounding. Who is ringing my doorbell at nine in the morning? I didn't buzz in any package-delivery people.

I look back at the computer screen. The Zoom call has ended, but what if Kevin wasn't at home during the call? His background was blurred, so he could have been anywhere.

What if he is right outside my door?

I grab my phone off my desk. Okay, there's no reason to panic. If Kevin is outside my door, I will call the police. The doors are pretty well made, and I doubt he could force his way in, especially with the dead bolt in place.

I locked the dead bolt, didn't I?

The doorbell rings a second time, the sound drawn out as if someone has jammed their finger into the button and left it there. Somebody badly wants to come inside.

My heart is jackhammering in my chest as I run over to the front door, still feeling eyes on the back of my neck even though the blinds are closed. Right away, I can see that I didn't lock the dead bolt. Oh my God, how could I have been so stupid ?

This is fine. I'll call the police. Then I'll call Gretchen and Randy. Actually, this will be a good thing. I've been struggling to find a way to report Kevin given I don't know anything about him, but if the police catch him here, then filing a restraining order will be a lot easier.

I check the peephole and…

Oh. It's Randy.

I unlock my one flimsy lock and throw open the door. Randy is standing in the hallway in his T-shirt and blue jeans, shifting between his dirty sneakers. He isn't much taller than Jake, but somehow he looks like a giant tree hovering over me.

"Hey, Syd," he says. "Can I talk to you?"

I hesitate. I can't help but remember that Randy doesn't have an alibi for the night of Bonnie's murder. There were no signs of forced entry, and he had a key. But I'm also having trouble imagining that Randy came to my apartment to kill me at nine in the morning. And if he did, as I mentioned, he has a key, so he wouldn't have to ask permission.

"Okay," I say. "Come in."

I step aside to allow Randy to enter my apartment. He looks incredibly nervous, which is making me nervous. What is he nervous about?

"So, listen," he says. "I need to show you something. But…you can't tell anyone. Okay?"

"Okay…"

Randy reaches into the pocket of his blue jeans. I swear to God, if he pulls out a clump of Bonnie's hair from his pocket, I am going to faint dead away. His pockets are deep, and he fishes around for a few seconds until he pulls out what he wants to show me, and it feels like all the air has been sucked out of me.

Oh no. No .