When Ronnie stepped into the hall, it was empty. But she heard more footsteps. The clatter of someone running. The hair on her forearms rose. She could sense someone was close. Watching? Waiting?

“Andrea?” she whispered. “Lauren?”

Nothing. Ronnie stepped down the hall. And then, another sound: an intake of breath. Forced breath. Choking. “Andrea?” she whispered again, feeling her whole body tense up. “Lauren?”

When she passed the second open door, she realized something was lying on the ground only a few feet away. Ronnie suppressed a gasp. Andrea had fallen, her legs curled under. She wasn’t moving.

“Oh my God!” Ronnie cried, dropping to her knees, pressing her hand to Andrea’s cheek. She was warm. “Andrea!” she cried. Andrea didn’t respond. Ronnie looked around—at the other offices, at the big, bolted door, down the dark hallways. “Lauren? Lauren!”

The words froze in her throat, then, and she shot to her feet. There was something—someone—lying on the other side of Andrea that she hadn’t seen. Disjointed images flashed before her eyes. A graceful patent-leather heel. A mound of hip, a swath of dark hair. No, Ronnie heard a voice in her mind scream. She was just about to put the thought together of who this was, just about to understand what was happening, when she felt something sharp jab the soft spot of her throat. And she whirled around again, seeing faces—Lauren’s, Andrea’s, Jerrod’s, his eyes blazing with fury.

And then everything went black.

Thirteen

Andrea opened her eyes. She was lying on her side on the ground. Her head ached. It was hard to breathe. Somewhere nearby came a ragged sucking sound. Above her, a fluorescent light flickered. Far off, she could hear sounds of more car doors slamming, and high, cheerful female voices. She curled and uncurled her fingers. They were clasped around the handle of her handbag. Why was she holding her handbag?

She sat up in horror, realizing. She was on the floor of the Silver Swans offices. There was Piper’s office door at the end of the hall, still ajar. What had happened?

She turned her head. A body lay next to her—their fingers were nearly touching. Andrea recoiled, but the figure didn’t react. This person was on her back, her chest rising and falling unevenly. She was the source of that sucking, snorting sound.

Andrea’s brain kicked into gear; she realized who it was. Piper.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she whispered, scuttling away.

Two hands clamped on her shoulders and she shrieked. There was Lauren, her skin ashen, beads of sweat on her brow. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she said, her eyes darting to Piper. “Oh my God, Andrea, we have to get out of here. Now.”