But Max’s name didn’t pop up on her phone. Instead, it was number she didn’t recognize. She almost let the call go to voice mail, then changed her mind. It was a 512 area code, which meant Austin. It could be someone from the university calling.
She thumbed the green button and put the phone to her ear. “Hello?”
“Ms. Mason, this is detective Gabriel Peterson, Austin Police Department. I was wondering if you could come to the station. I need to speak to you about your roommate, Denise Sullivan.”
It took a few seconds for the words to filter through, but when they did, the first emotion that hit Lana was panic. “Oh God! Is Denise okay?”
“This is really something I’d prefer to talk to you about in person, Ms. Mason. Would you be able to come to the station? I could meet you somewhere else if you prefer.”
“I’m not in Austin right now,” she said. “I graduated from college a few weeks ago and I’m back home in Dallas. Please tell me Denise is okay.”
Lana’s breathing came faster and faster, her whole body buzzing like she’d put her finger in a light socket. Even her gums were tingling.
“Detective?” she prompted.
Brandy and Miriam must have figured out there was something wrong because they got up and gathered around her. They looked as nervous as she felt.
What is it? Brandy mouthed.
Lana ignored her. She couldn’t focus on Brandy and the phone at the same time. “Detective?” she said again, almost begging this time.
There was a pause and then a slight cough, like Peterson was clearing his throat. “Ms. Mason, your roommate was found murdered in your apartment this morning. Would it be possible for you to come to Austin so we can ask you a few questions? We could really use your help.”
Lana heard Brandy and Miriam asking her what was wrong, and the detective asking if she was still on the line, but she was so stunned she couldn’t think of how to answer. All she could think about was the last time she’d seen Denise.
That had only been three days ago. How could her friend possibly be dead?
“What happened to her?” Lana asked Peterson softly.
“It would really be best if you could come down to the station,” the detective said. “I can tell you more then.”
Lana stuttered out that she’d be there, though she wasn’t sure how the heck she’d make the three-hour drive south on I-35. Her hands were shaking so badly she could barely hold her phone. How could she possibly drive?
She hung up, then somehow stumbled across the room until she found the couch and sat down. Brandy and Miriam followed, taking a seat on either side of her, each of them putting an arm around her.
“It’s my roommate from school, Denise,” Lana murmured. “She was murdered. The police found her dead in the apartment we used to share in Austin. They want me to come down there so they can ask me some questions.”
“There’s no way we’re letting you drive all the way down to Austin on your own,” Miriam said. “Not in the condition you’re in right now.”
Lana nodded as her phone rang again. She sat there, too numb to answer it.
Brandy took the phone gently out of her hand and answered it. Lana tried to listen in on the conversation, but she was too out of it to focus on anything. Instead, she leaned against Miriam, tears in her eyes.
“Honey,” Brandy said, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze. “That was Max. He’s on his way. I told him what happened and he said he’ll take you down to Austin to talk to the police. Okay, Lana?”
Lana nodded, a little bit of the weight crushing her chest easing up at the mention of his name. Max would be here soon. He’d help her get through this.
* * *
“This is going to be hard for you to see, Ms. Mason,” Detective Peterson said as he placed a closed folder on the table in front of her, his hand resting on the cover as if he thought Lana would open the thing on her own. “But I need you to look at the pictures we took at your apartment and see if anything is missing or out of place, or whether there’s something there that doesn’t belong.”
Lana nodded, trying not to hyperventilate. The long drive from Dallas with Max had helped calm her down, but the moment they’d gotten to the police station and Peterson had brought them into the small conference room, the reality of what she was doing there all came rushing back. She’d felt like she might be ill, and something told her that looking at these pictures was only going to make it worse.
Beside her, Max’s big hand enveloped hers. “I’m right here, Lana.”
She gave him a small smile, thanking God he’d come with her. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to do this without him. For some crazy reason, she felt like she could take on the world when she was with him.
Taking a deep breath, she flipped open the folder, prepared for the worst, relaxing when she saw that the first photo was a picture of the front door of the apartment she used to share with Denise. Her lips curved a little at the fall-themed welcome sign hanging from the little hook under the peephole, the one with the pumpkins she and Denise had gotten at a local flea market.
