Page 91 of Stay Awake
I look at him blankly. I have no idea why I’d be taking a train to Miami. I close my eyes again, convinced I must be dreaming.
“Ma’am, I have to ask you to leave.”
I flinch at his booming voice and immediately snap open my eyes again. I’m not dreaming. It’s late at night and I’m on an empty train platform. l don’t have the faintest idea how I got here. The last thing I remember is answering the phone at my desk in the office. It was daytime then.
“Did I black out or something?”
“You missed your train. You must have fallen asleep. The next trainto Miami doesn’t leave until morning. You’ll have to find somewhere to stay for the night.”
“Somewhere to stay… for the night?”
“Yes, ma’am. You can’t stay here. We’re closing the platform. You have to leave.”
I stumble to my feet and take the escalator up to the concourse. I’m so woozy and confused that it feels as if the ground under my feet is turning to quicksand as I walk. Nothing makes sense. I’m about to head to the subway to go home to my apartment in Brooklyn when I notice writing covering my hands and arms. It looks as if I’ve been vandalized while I slept.
Letters written under each knuckle spell out the wordsSTAY AWAKE.Another message says:DON’T SLEEP! I FORGET EVERYTHING WHEN I FALL ASLEEP.A phone number under the wordsCALL FOR HELPis circled on my palm. It feels like a lifeline.
Near the escalators is a public phone. I feed coins from my pockets into the slot and dial the number written on my palm.
“Hello?”
“Liv! Where are you?” I strain to hear the muffled voice as a round of train departure announcements blare.
“I’m at Penn Station. I don’t know what’s going on.” My voice rises in panic.
“Did you just wake up?” he asks, his voice barely audible under the deafening loudspeaker announcements.
“Yes. I must have fallen asleep waiting for a train.” I yawn. The train station loudspeaker reverberates through my head. I shouldn’t be here. “I need to go home.”
“Liv, you can’t go home. You’re in danger.”
“What danger?”
“It’s a long story. I’ll explain when I see you. Meet me at a bar called Nocturnal.”
Chapter
Fifty-One
Two Days Earlier
Ted swings open the front door and stands back to let me into the apartment. It’s a modern one-bedroom with the sterile atmosphere of a hotel. It has an open-plan kitchen with stainless steel appliances and a white stone counter. The bedroom is furnished in blue-grays. There are satin sheets on the mattress and a sliding-door closet.
“Liv, I can’t stress enough that you can’t go out and you can’t contact anyone. Do you understand?” Ted’s tone is deadly serious as he locks and bolts the front door. “It’s for your own protection. Nobody knows you’re here. We have to keep it that way.”
“Sure.” I say it with conviction so he’ll believe me. The cell phone that I slipped into my rear pocket presses into my flesh. It’s my escape plan if I decide I don’t trust him after all.
Ted opens the fridge and tells me to help myself to anything I need. He has filled the shelves with salads, yogurts, and fresh fruit. “You’ve been living off coffee for too long,” he says, pouring orange juice into tall glasses and tossing in ice cubes.
He picks up our glasses and moves them to a coffee table in theliving area. I curl up in the corner of a gray L-shaped leather sofa, sipping my drink while he paces nervously.
“Now would be a good time to tell me what’s going on,” I suggest.
He runs a hand through his tawny hair as if bracing himself for a difficult conversation. “I’ll start at the beginning. Two years ago, Amy and Marco were murdered.”
“You’re lying.” Nausea rises in my throat until rage takes over. “Actually, I’m not listening to this.”
I get up and storm past him to the front door. It’s locked. I turn around to demand he unlock the door when I see the headline of the newspaper clipping he’s holding up in the air to show me. I snatch the newspaper from his hand and read in silent horror. The article says Amy and Marco were killed in a double homicide.
