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Except now she wouldn’t have the chance.
Lenna was too superstitious to read or watch the news. Should she turn herself in? Explain herself, her innocence, her lack of memory or action? But all those things Gillian did to her. The way they yelled at each other at that canyon’s edge. Someone might have heard—they would point fingers at Lenna, say she was making it all up, that she’dmeantto do it. That she was a horrible person.
A few hours after she’d read the story, a knock came. Lenna shot up from the couch, but she was too petrified to move. She heard the neighbors bickering next door like they always did. Maybe they’d just knocked against a wall?
But then a voice called out. “Hello?” Awoman’svoice—and not like the woman’s who lived in the next apartment over. There was no announcement. Didn’t the police have to identify themselves? After a few minutes, whoever it was walked away.
Lenna slunk to the window, heart in her mouth. When she looked out, she suppressed a scream. Sadie’s blond head moved across the sidewalk to the parking lot, but she was walking away. Maybe to the police?
The next few days passed in abject terror. Lenna fielded an email from Rich—she’d handed in her three-hundred-word piece about the Pilates studio and now he had a new assignment. Lenna couldn’t fathom writing anything, so she said she was really sick and would have to pass. She wondered about the article Gillian had assigned her. Gillian had never given her another editor’s name atWellness; she didn’t even know who to get in touch with. Maybe better, though, that she didn’t associate herself with Gillian at the moment. She didn’t dare go to work because she knew the police had to be swarming the building, and she didn’t want to jog anyone’s memory that she and Gillian were friends.
She did go out to purchase a new phone (with a new number), but the whole time she was in the store, handing over her ID, swiping her credit card, she waited for the police to descend. It was bizarre when they didn’t. With the new phone, she finally called into work and spoke to Judy, the office manager, to see if she could send her copy editing work home to her. Not that she had the wherewithal to dothat,either, but she had to make money.
“Seems something’s going around,” Judy replied when Lenna told her she’d been sick. “Hey, did you hear about that woman who hung around the office? You knew her, right—Gillian? She fell into Runyon!”
“I…did hear that.” Lenna felt nauseated. There was something off-putting about Judy’s glee. Something odd, too, about theway Judy had phrased Gillian’s situation. Lenna backtracked. “Wait, what do you mean, shehung aroundthe office?”
“So apparently, she was just pretending like she worked for one of the other magazines. They never let her in the building, but she just went around telling everyone she worked here.”
“Shewhat?” Bile rose in her throat. Gillian never worked atWellness? Gillian used a Gmail account for theirWellnessdiscussions. Lenna hadn’t thought much of it; some of the writers atCity Gossipused their Gmail accounts, too. Something to do with easier access on cell phones.
But it made sense—Gillian used Gmail because she didn’t have an actualWellnessemail address. Lenna had never actually seen Gillian’s desk or even theWellnessfloor. Gillian always foundher,usually downstairs or in the lobby. She was always calling Lenna during the workday, from her car or the street. Just as Judy said, Lenna had never actually seen her in the building.
What a fool she was.
And the article Gillian assigned her. Gillian had just…made up that assignment. How would Lenna get paid? What a dumb thought: Of course she wouldn’t get paid. But Jesus, Lenna had sent her an invoice!
“Anyway, it’s all so terrible,” Judy was saying. “They’re questioning her roommate.”
“What?”Lenna nearly dropped the phone, thinking of Sadie’s shadow in her doorway.
“I don’t know. She’s some doctor? I guess she was letting that Gillian woman live rent-free, but she wanted to have a baby on her own so she was trying to get Gillian to move out, or something? Oh, and Gillian had this blog talking all about how weird her roommate was getting. This anonymous tip came in, backing the whole thing up.”
Lenna’s head was spinning. It took her a moment to realize theywere questioning Sadie because they thought Sadie was a suspect. But surely Sadie would steer them to Lenna. Lenna recalled Gillian having an Instagram page about social anxiety. But unlike everyone else Lenna’s age, social media wasn’t really her thing.
And an anonymous tip from whom, sayingwhat?
“Was her roommate…arrested?” she asked, coming up for air.
“I think she’s just a person of interest at the moment. But I’m not really sure. Hey, I gotta run. Rich is calling.”
Lenna put her head between her knees. She could picture it. Sadie was in an interrogation room right now, swearing her innocence, probably providing an alibi, and then probably providing a list of people they should question next. Which absolutely would include Lenna. All their emails and texts together. And Gillian’s social media pages—Lenna cursed herself for never looking into it.
With shaking hands, she typed in Gillian’s page on Instagram. The account was still private. Gillian still hadn’t given Lenna access. Now she never would.
Friday turned to a weekend. The police still didn’t come. Lenna dared to read the news; it said that Dr. Sarah “Sadie” Wasserman, who ran a private concierge practice specializing in geriatric medicine, had been released from questioning but was still a person of interest in Gillian’s death. The scandal had caused her to step away from her medical practice. Gillian had told Lenna how much Sadie loved being a doctor. She had to be out for blood, Lenna figured, to have that taken away from her. Surely Sadie was looking for someone who reallydiddo this, so she could clear her name and get on with her life.
On Monday, Lenna begged off sick again, trying to figure out what to do. By Wednesday, Rich wasn’t quite as understanding, saying she’d used up all her sick days and he’d have to dock her pay. “We need a copy editor,” he said. “If you can’t get here by Friday, I’m going to have to look for someone else.”
Friday came, but she just couldn’t get out of bed. And that was that.
Rent was a week past due. Lenna could pay it, but her savings would run out soon. She couldn’t live here with no job. Where would she go? Her father’s felt like a last resort. For one thing, he didn’t have room in his little condo. For another, she wasn’t sure he wanted her there.
A few days later, an alert flashed. More of Gillian’s belongings were found farther in the canyon, including one of her shoes. The police were still searching for her body. A message came on the screen:If anyone has any information, please come forward.
Lenna pressed her hands over her eyes.
Later in the day, she was walking back to her apartment from an unavoidable mission to the grocery store, despairing. She had to come up with a plan. But she was so despondent. Everything felt impossible. She had no friends. No money. She stared at the street before her, a four-lane boulevard filled with whizzing cars. What would it be like if she stepped off the curb?
