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After Bill handed me the glass, he sat down across from me. “I’ve been in touch with a number of private clinics,” he said. “I know you were told that your condition is irreversible, but I really think you need second, third, fourth, and fifth opinions.”
“I appreciate that, Bill. But my body is telling me otherwise.”
“Then let me, at the very least, take you to a place that will keep you comfortable.”
“And what—gently ease me into my own grave?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
That’s exactly what Bill meant. Keep me comfortable until my body gave up the fight. Which could literally prove to be any minute now. But I refused to take the easy way out.
“By the way, Karla with a K says hello.”
Bill put it together quickly. “Karla…That’show you found me? You could have just called my office!”
“And have Interpol return the call? Karla seemed nice, but a little intense. I can see why you pulled away.”
“What else about me have you learned?” Bill asked, annoyance creeping into his voice. I’d touched a nerve.
“I wasn’t doing a background check, Bill. I just scammed a lady in a bar to get your address.”
“Isn’t that what you used to do for a living? Pry into people’s lives and expose all of their dirty secrets?”
I would have apologized for prying into his personal life, were I not suddenly overwhelmed with nausea. Bill saw the stricken look on my face and bolted out of his seat, as if anticipating the worst.Was this near-stranger about to die on my couch?
Instead I whispered “Bathroom” and Bill pointed me in the right direction. Only my exhaustion prevented me from breaking into a sprint.
CHAPTER 31
DO NOT THROW up, I commanded myself, splashing cold water on my face.If you’re about to die, do it with some dignity.
Something was wrong. I mean, aside from the fact that my body was shutting down. My blood felt like it had been run through a hot water heater. I was utterly exhausted yet extremely agitated, like my brain was bumping up against something. I knew I couldn’t rest until I figured out the precise nature of thatsomething.
Have you ever had the kind of dream where you’re working frenetically to solve a problem, but no matter how rationally you approach it, you’re unable to solve it? Because—well, because you’re in a dream, and nothing is rational in that mental landscape.
That’s how I felt, standing in Bill Devander’s luxurious bathroom. I was missing somethinghuge. If only I could pause for long enough to figure it out…
I am sorry to report, Dear Reader, that I did indeed vomit. Not my finest moment, and it didn’t make me feel that much better, either. I hoped my retching wasn’t worrying poor Bill out in the other room. The last thing I wanted was for him to force his way in here, out of concern.
I rinsed my mouth out with tap water, cleaned up the sink, and opened the cabinet under the sink to look for some mouthwash. Nothing under there but high-end cleaning products. I eventually found a small bottle of rosewater mouthwash in the medicine cabinet.
As I swished the fluid around my mouth, I saw that Bill had an array of expensive toiletries: Creed aftershave balm, Erno Laszlo deep cleansing bar. Bill’s taste was far more refined than Kevin’s—whose own attitude ofwhy shouldn’t I use the same bar of soap to wash my hairandmy body?was frugal, but also drove me a little crazy.
After I spit, I saw a bottle of Frederic Malle’s The Night.How fancy, Mr. Devander.I uncapped it, breathed some of it in. I’ll admit, I was curious what two-thousand-dollar cologne smelled like. I also wanted to clear the awful smell of vomit out of my nostrils.
Yet instead of relieving my misery, the expensive scent made me light-headed, and I broke out into a sweat. I quickly recapped the cologne, closed the medicine cabinet door, and gripped the sides of the porcelain sink.
No. Do not pass out. Do not let Bill find your unconscious body in here, because he’ll call the paramedics, and then it’ll be all over.
I couldn’t get the nightmare images out of my head, playing in a messy cinematic loop. The creak of our suite door, opening. The feel of the smooth wood beneath my fingertips. Pan down. Kevin’s body, facedown, sprawled on the hallway floor. Sweep right. Further down the hall: the dead father, the dead daughter, limbs akimbo.
Repeat loop. The creak of the door as it opens. The feel of the smooth wood. Pan down, again. Kevin’s body, again, as if there could be any other outcome.But something is missing. Someone left a key prop out of this sequence. What was it?
I couldn’t stop the images, no matter how much I squeezed my fists and clenched my teeth until I thought I would explode. Maybe if I screamed? I realized I was losing my mind, at long last. I had to get out of here. I pushed away from the sink and staggered over to the bathroom door.
I opened the door to find Bill pointing a gun at my chest.
CHAPTER 32
