All the times I’d complained about Aimee flashed through my mind. The way Lena had taken my side when I’d received Aimee’s postcards, how good it had felt to have someone angry on my behalf. Had I set these events in motion? And mixed in with my guilt and fear, was there the tiniest thread of satisfaction? I felt sick.

Lena’s hand moved, and instead of the point pressing against Aimee’s jugular, now the open blade rested straight across her neck. “She thought she was untouchable. She’s too stupid to be afraid.” With the other hand, she jerked Aimee closer and started walking backward toward the balcony connecting all three galleries. Lena was so much taller that Aimee struggled to remain upright.

I wanted to stay in the shelter of the statue. I wanted to turn and run, leave the museum, ask the sanitation workers to take me home, never leave Grace for a second ever again. But if I left, Lena would definitely kill Aimee, and then she might wait months, even years, before striking again. I just had to stall her until the police arrived. Could I see something on the street outside the museum? I wanted help so badly that it might be my imagination.

My whole arm was trembling now, the flashlight bobbing like a buoy on choppy water.

Aimee’s wide eyes were locked on mine, but my full attention had to be on Lena. “What are you waiting for?” Lena called softly. She’d dragged Aimee all the way out of the gallery until they were standing together against the balustrade. “Get out here, Kacy, or I’ll just toss her over.”

Did she mean it? Cautiously, I approached, stopping just out of reach. The front windows provided enough light that I lowered the flashlight, but I kept it on. The weight of it made me feel stronger.

Lena kept the blade of the scissors tightly pressed against Aimee’s throat. If the police were really out front, this might be almost over. But whether they followed me up the back stairs or broke down the front door or even landed with a SWAT team on the roof, the moment Lena saw them, I knew she’d hurl Aimee to her death.

I had to make her believe I was playing along. “What do you really want, Lena? Why am I here?”

She smirked. “I’ll make you a deal, Kacy. If you stab this bitch like she deserves, I won’t kill her. I’ll let you both go. How about that, bestie?”

And she was my bestie, my soul sister, my fearless leader. I’d missed Lena, my best friend always right next door, only a text away, ready for any adventure. Now my heart was breaking. How could I know her so well and have missed everything else that she was: methodical, voyeuristic, deadly?