Page 26 of Stay Awake
The man unlocked the front door of the apartment, and they both went inside. Perhaps for the last time. Within twenty-four hours, the man was brutally murdered in that same apartment, and the woman had disappeared.
As she looked at the blurry security camera footage of the long-haired woman, Halliday couldn’t help but think that they’d found their prime suspect. She rewound the video back to the moment the couple came out of the elevator. She pressed Play to watch it again.
“Look up,” Halliday pleaded, but the woman continued to stare down at her feet.
“She’s not looking up,” said Lavelle, disgusted by their bad luck. “It’s almost as if she’s deliberately hiding her identity from the CCTV cameras.”
Halliday took a screenshot of the best photo they had of the woman. Her face was largely obscured, but there was a chance that someone who knew her might recognize her anyway. Halliday printed off a hundred copies of the photo to give to the cops going door-to-door in the vicinityof the crime scene. From the photo, it looked as if the suspect was a slender Caucasian woman of average height with waist-long coffee-colored hair.
“We might get lucky. Maybe someone will recognize her,” Halliday told Lavelle, as she scooped up the pages from the printer and followed him downstairs to the car.
Chapter
Seventeen
Two Years Earlier
I’m taking the subway home from work when my phone vibrates in my handbag. It’s Amy. She texts that she’s going on a mini vacation over the three-day gap before her next shift at the hospital.Early birthday present. Plus I need to work on my tan!A string of sunshine and beach emojis follow the message.
You deserve it, hon,I write back.
She does deserve it. Amy’s in the final stretch of her internship. I’ve never seen anyone work so hard. Last week she worked six night shifts in a row. Other times she’s up at five in the morning for an early morning shift that often drags on well into the evening. Her dedication to her patients is incredible.
Amy and I were introduced at a party by a mutual friend who knew we were both looking for a roommate. We immediately clicked. We come from different worlds, with different life experiences. Yet after sharing our apartment for almost five years, our bond is much deeper than just that of roommates, or even close friends. Amy’s the sister I never had.
She’s the only person I’ve ever told about my nomadic childhood,moving to different towns and schools every time Mom got a new man in her life, during which time she’d all but ignore me while she devoted herself to the relationship. Not to mention her meltdowns when her marriages broke up, and the way she’d guilt-trip me for being the cause of all her heartache. “Men don’t want women with baggage,” she’d tell me. Amy knows it all.
I know all her secrets, too, like how she began her affair with Brett months before he split with his wife, and her lifelong dream of going to Africa to work as a doctor with a humanitarian organization. There’s very little we don’t tell each other.
When I get home, I unlock the front door tentatively and push it open with a creak. “It’s just you and me, kid,” I tell Shawna as she rubs herself against my legs in greeting.
I pour her food into a bowl while I text-message Marco to suggest he come over and stay the night. He doesn’t text back. I dial his cell phone. The call goes straight to voicemail.
When I examine the contents of the fridge, I decide it’s a good thing Marco didn’t respond. We’re out of everything, other than eggs and cheese. I should go to the supermarket to pick up groceries, but I’m too beat. Instead I head to the bathroom, where I fill the tub with hot water and a splash of lavender oil.
I wish I’d joined Amy on her mini vacation. I’m also feeling burnt out. Work has been stressful. There has been more sniping than usual among the staff writers. Naomi’s still furious that I’ve been assigned the arts roundup. Her only communication with me all week has been to take subtle potshots during editorial meetings. It’s been exhausting.
I slide into the hot water and put a wet terry towel over my face. The water is so warm that I drift to sleep. When I wake, the bath water is getting cold and there’s an intermittent thumping noise nearby. At first I think that someone is hitting a nail with a hammer somewhere in the building. After listening to more thumps, I realize the noise is coming from inside my apartment.
Amy’s away so it can’t be her. I think for a hopeful moment that Marco received my text and came here to take me up on my invitation. But Marco doesn’t have keys to the apartment so it can’t be him. The only possibility left is that there’s an intruder in the apartment.
Cold fear slides through me like liquid mercury as I climb out of the bath, careful not to make any splashing noises. I throw my satin robe onto my wet body without toweling off and press my ear against the bathroom door. The thumping noise resumes.
Someone is definitely in the apartment. I haven’t brought my phone into the bathroom so I can’t call for help. Instead, I push down the bathroom door handle soundlessly and count to three before swinging it open and charging to the front door. My robe flaps behind me as I run. The lock opens quickly despite my slippery hands. I step out onto the landing dripping wet and feeling like a total idiot.
The building door opens downstairs. I tentatively move forward to the banister to see who’s come in. It’s a neighbor who lives on the fourth floor. She doesn’t notice me as she strides up the stairs two at a time, her eyes peeled on her phone as she talks on FaceTime. When she reaches my landing, she glances up and makes eye contact before continuing to her floor.
Seeing the neighbor makes me feel more stupid than ever. Of course, there isn’t an intruder. The banging must be from the new tenants assembling their flatpack furniture like they did the other night until late.
I return to my apartment and close the door behind me. Once inside, I call Marco.
“Is everything okay, Liv?” he asks.
The murmur of voices in the background and the clatter of cutlery scraping against plates tells me that he must be at a restaurant.
“Did you get my text about staying tonight?” I head down the corridor toward Amy’s bedroom, where the banging noise came from. I feel more courageous knowing there’s someone on the phone line who can call the cops if something goes wrong.
“I just saw your message. I wish I could come over, but I’m out of town.”
