Page 127 of The New Couple in 5B

“That’s a good girl,” says Ella. “I always knew you were smart.”

Abi grabs me and easily wrests the knife from my weak grip, tosses it out of reach. So much for putting up a fight.

I think I see the flicker of apology in his eyes, but it quickly fades to coldness.

“Why are you helping them?” I think back to my conversation with Max about what he could want. “What is in this for you?”

But he doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even look at me again—like I’m the package he’s delivering, the luggage he’s hauling out to the curb.

Sarah struggles and yells all the way down the stairs, earning strained grunts from Charles. She’s saying the same thing over, and over, but I can’t understand her words.

Finally, I get it:Rosie, don’t you dare sign.

We keep going down, all the way to the basement, through the maze of passageways, past the laundry room, past the storage cages and finally into another locked room, which Ella opens with a key. I don’t fight at all, weak and fading fast.

“What are they paying you?” I ask Abi. I remember that his mother is in assisted living and maybe that’s it. Just money. The simplest of all motives. “How muchcould they be paying you that you would do this for them?”

“Be quiet, Ms. Lowan.” I notice then that he’s also wearing one of those necklaces, the little silver palm glinting at his neck. In fact, they are all wearing it. I think about Arthur Alpern’s books, about Charles’s family of mystics. Dana wore one. And Xavier. And Chad. Not me, though. I never put mine on. Maybe that’s a good sign.

“I mean, what is in it for you? Or are you just their servant? You’ve been waiting on the rich, mad people in this building so long that you’ve lost all your self-determination.”

He gives me a dark look, and pushes me roughly through the door.

It’s a huge space that I never knew was here. On the wall, mounted monitors, with a window into every single apartment in the Windermere.

Miranda is meditating, peaceful upon a floor cushion. Anna watches television, her face blank and washed blue in the light of the screen. Ogadinmah Mgbajah is cooking his dinner, chopping vegetables while listening to classical music.

Our apartment is empty, dark, waiting.

I knew it. All the apartments are being watched.

“Hey, Abi?” The voice seems to come from nowhere. I realize it’s coming from one of the apartments.

Abi clasps his hand hard over my mouth and drags me over to the computer, where he clicks a few keys.

“Yes, Mr. Donofrio.”

I scan the monitors and see the older man who I’ve only met in passing. He and his wife live on ten, owning the entire floor.

“I think I heard something on the roof.”

“Hmm, that’s odd. I’ll check the cameras.” Then, “No, nothing up there that I can see. I’ll take a run up and have a look.”

“Good man, Abi.”

That’s when I see them, Olivia and Chad, lying bound and gagged, back to back, in another storage cage, both of them stone still, heads tilted, unmoving.

I scream his name but he doesn’t respond. He seems so helpless. My heart floods with fear, legs buckle with it and I can’t stand that I lost faith in him, thought he was having an affair with Lilian. Wondered if he’d run off. All this time, he’s been here, captive in the basement of this cursed apartment building.

“Just let them out,” I beg. “We’ll give you everything we have. We’ll never say a word. Just let us go.”

I’m desperate now, begging on my knees on the cold concrete. I don’t care. All pride goes out the window when you’re fighting for the people you love.

Ella has taken a seat at the long table in front of the monitors and spread out the paperwork.

“Just sign, Rosie,” she says. “And it’s done.”

I look at the signature line, the pen. Abi has a tight grip on my shoulder.

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