“Leslie Flores?” one of them called from just outside Robin’s bedroom.
I wiped my mouth. “I’m in here,” I said.
“Open the door.”
“I can’t,” I said, too quietly. “The lock is on the outside.”
“Okay, I’m coming in.” A man, a calm voice. I heard the door rattle and scrambled to stand, knocking the chair and the record player over. A second later, the door burst open, revealing one of the police officers I’d seen in the backyard. He was tall, square-jawed. “Are you Leslie Flores?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said. My throat was dry. Another officer stepped into the room behind him. She looked familiar. She’d been in school with Robin. I’d run into her at Sprouts once or twice.
Her eyes were kind. “Leslie, your sister told me you might be here. I’m Nancy Courtenay, if you remember? I’m with the sheriff’s department. This is Officer Wright.” She turned to her partner. “Can you wait over there for a second? I’m going to talk to Mrs. Flores.”
“What?” I could barely think. The other officer—Wright—took one last glance around the room, shook his head, and disappeared into the hallway. “Why would she tell you?”
“She cares about you, Leslie,” Nancy said. “Your note really scared her.”
“What note?”
“The note you left her,” Nancy said, holding a folded piece of paper out to me. “She thought you might go to your dad’s house. I’m glad she called us.”
I heard voices in the living room, boots shuffling over the carpet. There were more people here. People Robin had called. I took the piece of paper from Nancy and unfolded it slowly.
I’m heading out now. I didn’t want
to wake you up to say goodbye.
I hope you find your way on your own.
I’m glad our time together is over.
I can’t feel any other way.
But I’ll think about you.
—Leslie
The bottom of the note, with Robin’s Social Security number, had been ripped away, leaving a ragged edge. I could hear my pulse in my ears. “It’s not a—a suicide note,” I said. “It’s—she was leaving town—she was here to work out some legal—”
Nancy came closer, and I stumbled back. “I’m sorry she couldn’t be here. She said it was too hard for her, and I hope you understand that. But she hasn’t left town. She’ll visit you in the hospital.”
The voices in the living room muttered to one another. I heard someone chuckle.
“I don’t need to go to the hospital,” I said to Nancy, my heart rabbit-fast in my chest. “I’m not suicidal. Robin lied to you.”
Nancy looked up at the noose. “I wish that were true. But I can’t leave you here on your own. I’m required to make sure you’re no longer in danger.”
Another car pulled up outside. A walkie-talkie burped in the other room, and a garbled voice said, “Everything’s okay. We located her.”
“Is there someone else we can call for you to meet you at the hospital?” My attention was dragged back to Nancy, who tilted her head. “Someone who can support you?”
“Don’t call Dave,” I said. “He can’t…”
“You don’t have to worry, Leslie,” Nancy said. “We haven’t notified anybody yet. I came straight over after Robin’s call. If you’d like, we can ask the hospital not to admit him in to see you. You don’t have to see anybody you don’t want to see. But support can be very important. Is there anybody else I can call for you?”
That car outside. Robin’s car. She hadn’t packed boxes with me. She’d waited for me, nailed the window shut, locked me in, called this woman.
She wasn’t coming back.
I went over the events in my head again. It began to take shape.
The dead girl on the bed in Henderson. The girl who’d been punished for taking something that belonged to Robin.
You and me, Robin had said yesterday in the kitchen.
And I’d said, I don’t know how to thank you.
“I need my purse,” I said to Nancy. “Is my purse in the front room?”
Nancy looked perplexed, but raised her voice to call, “Hey, Alan?” Officer Wright appeared in the hallway. “Can you check if there’s a purse in the front room?”
“She can’t have anything in it,” Wright mumbled.
“We can bring it to the hospital for her, though,” Nancy said mildly.
“I need my purse!” I hissed. “There’s an envelope in it. I need to know if it’s there. Now. Now. Now!” I shrieked the last word at him as he turned to leave.
“There’s no need to shout,” Nancy said, pulling the door nearly closed. “I promise you, we are here to help.”
I sat down on the bed. My face felt like a mask. “You’ve been fucking her, haven’t you?”
Nancy’s kind expression evaporated. “That’s none of your business. Please don’t lash out at me because you’re angry at your sister.”
“I bet you love her,” I said, talking over her. “She told you she’s coming back? She lied. She never loved you. She told me so.”
“I understand that’s your perspective,” Nancy told me.
Wright shouldered past the door, holding my purse. “This it?”
I stood up. Nancy put a hand on my shoulder. “Please sit down, Mrs. Flores,” she said.
“Give it to me,” I said. I had at least five inches of height on her, but she kept me in place on the bed without effort. One of my shoes slipped off as I scraped for purchase on the carpet.
“Leslie, please,” Nancy said, lightening her hold on my shoulder. “It’s just an envelope. You can get it later.” She turned calmly to Wright, behind her. “Should we get going?”
I stopped moving, and Nancy took her hand away. “I don’t want to go anywhere,” I said, through suddenly difficult breaths.
Wright rummaged around in my purse. “I don’t see an envelope,” he reported.
Nancy bent and offered me my shoe. “What’s in the envelope? Maybe it fell out of your purse.”
I curled in on myself, shaking. It was gone. Part of me must have known as soon as I heard the phone ringing, out there where I couldn’t reach it, locked in. I felt Nancy crouch and put my shoe back on my foot for me. “Nancy,” I whispered, trying to pull myself together. She was still kneeling, her face at chest height. I bent my head to hers, my hair brushing her forehead. “Nancy, you have to help me,” I said under my breath. “Robin set it up to look like I was going to do something, but I swear to you, I wasn’t.”