AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Okay,” she said at last.
The first step into the shadows was always the worst. It was like a leap of faith—stepping into the darkness of the stairwell, before the sensor at the turn of the stairs caught your movement and the lights above flickered on.
But as she climbed, Hannah found herself relaxing. There was something so familiar, so comforting about the smells and sounds of staircase 7. She could hear Henry Clayton’s booming voice coming out from behind door 4; he and his neighbor Philip were obviously having one of their long-running political debates, which Hannah knew from experience would probably last until 3 a.m. On the landing below, someone was having a late-night shower, the smell of Dove body wash filtering up the stairwell along with the sound of splashing water.
Dr. Myers’s room was silent, but there was a glimmer of light showing under his door. He must be awake, and probably marking papers. For some reason the sight made Hannah feel better. So what if John Neville had been up here with another one of his lame excuses. April had probably told him to fuck off and sent him away with his tail between his legs.
Her own door, though, was open, just very slightly. As if April had come back in a hurry and hadn’t closed it firmly enough. It wasn’t the first time she had left it ajar—it was something people did quite often, if a roommate had forgotten a key, or just to signify that they were home and open for visitors. Not usually this late at night, though.
Hannah put her hand to the door and stepped inside.
And then—
AFTER
Hannah can’t sleep.
She lies there with her hand over her bump, listening to Will’s steady breathing beside her, wondering if he too is awake, but she can’t bring herself to ask.
Instead she runs over and over in her head the conversations of the day. Her exchange with Ryan. The new spin he has put on the days running up to April’s death. And her argument with Will before dinner.
The thing is, she understands his point of view—his need to move on, put the past behind them. It’s what she has wanted herself… until now. But if her evidence put an innocent man in jail and led to a murderer walking free—well. She can’t just accept that, no matter how much Will wants her to. She can’t spend the rest of her life wondering if she got something so devastatingly wrong. She has to know.
Now she lies there, straining her mind back to Pelham, trying, trying, trying to remember. If only she could recall the end of that night as clearly as the beginning. But it feels as if the shock did something to her brain—made it shut down, refuse to remember what was in front of her eyes.
Then it comes to her. Hugh.
Hugh was there too. He saw as much as she did—almost—and perhaps he remembers even more.
She was the first one in that room with April, falling to her knees beside April’s body, her screams tearing at her throat, but Hugh was the second. It was Hugh who tried mouth-to-mouth, not Hannah, pumping desperately at April’s dead heart long after it was clear that she was gone.
Perhaps Hugh remembers what she cannot.
It is with that thought in her mind that Hannah rolls over and finally closes her eyes.
She doesn’t care what Will says. Tomorrow, she will go to see Hugh.
* * *
“I’M GOING TO SEE HUGH.” She tries to drop it into conversation the next morning while cutting a bagel, as if it’s no big deal, but of course Will knows what she’s saying. This isn’t a social call she’s suggesting. “Do you want to come?”
“No.”
“Will—”
“Look, you asked.” He puts down his cup. “And that’s my answer. I don’t want you digging into this. It’s pointless and it’s upsetting for everyone. I can’t stop you—but I’m not going to be part of it.”
“So what will I tell Hugh when he wants to know why you’re not there?”
“Tell him what you like,” Will says. He picks up his bag. “It’s your business, not mine.”
“Fine.” She struggles to keep a note of defiance out of her voice. “But I’m still going.”
“Fine.”
And then he turns and leaves, the front door banging behind him with a sound that sets the baby jumping in her belly.
She hates it when they argue—and she knows that later she will text him an apology, try to make things right. But when she gets her phone out, it’s Hugh’s profile she clicks on WhatsApp.
