Adam believed me. I believed myself. It sounded plausible because it’s the truth. I’m going to make it true. When I get to my room—if I ever get there, if Mr. Uskalis ever stops wittering on—the first thing I’m going to do is call Melissa and invite her to meet me and talk, but only if she’s willing to pack a suitcase and leave Lee at the same time, having told him she wants a divorce. She will, of course, refuse. I can then text Adam and tell him she’s refused to meet me, but that I’m going to stay at the hotel and have another try later.

I am a truly great liar. Legendary.

Finally, the tedious guy has released the receptionist. “I’ve reserved a room,” I tell her.

“Thank you for your patience. Sorry I kept you waiting. Name?”

“Kate Zilber. Z-i-l-b-e-r.” I think about Gavin’s—King Edward’s—disdain for Damon Blundy, his suggestion that Blundy was evil. Is that why he chose his name to hide behind when he was behaving badly, for the same reason I’ve chosen Kate’s? As a kind of revenge? I’ve given the Chancery Hotel all of Kate’s details and none of my own.

“Yes, we’ve got you here,” the receptionist says. “Superior Double for one night?”

“That’s right.” When I hand over my credit card as an advance against my minibar costs, she doesn’t look at the name on it, just hands me the machine to key in my PIN.

I sign where I’m told to sign—Kate’s name—and I’m given the key to room 419. The hotel elevator is nearly as narrow as the bar: it would accommodate no more than two people. Its four mirrored walls don’t make it look any bigger, only crazier: dozens of clones of a hollow-eyed, paranoid woman with unbrushed hair.

I didn’t bring a hairbrush, makeup, perfume. I didn’t even have a shower this morning. I don’t care what I look like or how I smell. I’m not here for romantic or sexual reasons, not this time.

Once I’ve called Melissa and texted Adam, I will email King Edward and give him my room number and a time, as agreed. I look at my watch: 12:50 P.M. Yesterday, he said anytime after two. I’ll tell him three o’clock. That will give me enough time.

To leave the door slightly ajar with the “Do not disturb” sign displayed. To take off my clothes, climb into the bed, tie the blindfold securely in place and wait.

He’s not going to kill me. He wouldn’t do that. He’s done terrible things to me, and he’s maybe killed Damon Blundy, but he wouldn’t kill me.