Thank god. It’s creepy in here, the corridor nothing but a dark echo chamber now that everyone has gone home.
“Do not be long, I am hungry,” Alessandra says.
“Did you see Ford leave?” Izzy asks as we start toward the locker room. “Or Scarlett?”
“No, why?”
“Do you think they left together?”
“No.” I slow down and glance at her. “Why doyouthinkthat?”
“I dunno. I just didn’t see them much tonight.”
“They probably had other things to do, Iz. Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll have your shot with Ford if you want it.”
“You’re right.” She brightens and then nudges me in the ribs. “What about Noah? I can’t believe you didn’t recognize him right away today!”
“I can’t believe you did! It’s been years. Have you guys stayed in touch?”
“No, but I follow him on Insta.” She shrugs, and I wonder why she never mentioned it. “He only posts artsy black-and-white stuff, so I thought he’d be a bit full of himself.”
Whatever innocent crush I once had on Noah is rapidly blossoming into something that involves way more grown-up thoughts. I try to keep my face neutral so Izzy doesn’t read my mind as I tap the useless code into the door and push it open. “Ugh, I wish I’d brought a cardigan, it’s cold in here now…”
The words die in my throat as my survival instincts take over and I back out of the locker room, pushing Izzy with me. Details sear themselves into my eyes as the door closes, and I finally squeeze them shut, but it’s too late.
We’ve already seen the body.
NINE
“Fliss? Izzy?”
Alessandra’s worried voice rings out from the entrance hall, and I’m not surprised that she’s come looking for us. Izzy has only just stopped screaming, but now she’s pacing and muttering to herself. I can’t bring myself to stop her. In fact, I can’t seem to do anything apart from move my head slowly in the direction of Alessandra’s voice, like I’m a puppet on a string.
Alessandra rounds the corner, but she looks really far away. The corridor seems unnaturally long, and it takes me a second to register that the ringing I’m hearing is in my ears, not an alarm in the gallery. My vision has gone fuzzy at the edges and my fingers are numb, like they’re not actually attached to me anymore.
I’m going to faint.
“What happened?” Alessandra grabs my shoulders, and the touch jolts my senses, my vision sharpening a little. My lips don’t want to connect with my mouth, though, so she looks over at Izzy, who is still pacing, tugging at the hem of her shirt as her voice rises in panic. “Izzy? Can you tell me why you werescreaming?”
“I can’t…Don’t make me,” Izzy whimpers before turning wide eyes on me. “Fliss?”
“In there,” I finally manage, squeezing my eyes closed.
Alessandra helps me over to the opposite wall, the one made of glass that looks out on the dark night sky. I promptly slide down it, landing in a puddle on the floor. She crouches in front of me. “You are white as a sheet.” I nod, focusing only on sucking in enough air so I don’t pass out. That’s the last thing we need right now. “When you say ‘in there,’ do you mean the locker room?” I nod again, mouth dry.
“She’sin there.” Izzy points a shaking finger at the door. “But so are our bags, our phones. We need to call the police.”
“The police?” Alessandra jumps to her feet, on high alert now. Before I can stop her, she strides to the door and punches in the code.
“Don’t,” I say weakly, but it’s too late. From my spot on the floor I can see past her legs and into the room, where Helen’s body is slumped on one of the benches.
“No,” Alessandra whispers, turning around in disbelief.
I put my head in my hands, but it’s no use. I can still see the wound on Helen’s neck and the blindfold over her eyes. I scrape my fingernails along my scalp as I hear Alessandra make a call. On one level I know she must be trying to stay calm for us, but she keeps slipping into Italian as she tries to explain what has happened to the operator, so I can tell she’s as shell-shocked as we are. I try to erase the image of a stained white shirt and all those little paper cups strewn across the sticky red floor.
“Out of here, now,” Alessandra says firmly, though there’s a quiver in her voice. “We need to get away…We can wait in the café for the police. They’re on their way.”
I gratefully take her hands and let her heave me to my feet, then follow her and Izzy toward the café and kitchen. Alessandra props the door open with another silver weight, then dials a number on her phone and fires off a string of rapid Italian. She doesn’t tell us who she’s called, but her voice is so thick with emotion that I know she’s holding back sobs, meaning it’s probably a close friend or family member, maybe a partner. Izzy slips her hand into mine, though I can’t really feel it. There are wet tracksin her makeup.
