Page 47 of The New Couple in 5B

Every one of them is from Chad.

“Seems like your husband was trying to reach her.”

My throat feels thick, so I just nod. Why would he be calling her like that? It looks like no fewer than five times. I haven’t been able to reach him all day. Maybe she called him, too. Told him I was coming up here, that she was going to reveal something about him to me.

“Any idea why?”

“No,” I say. “None at all.”

“You don’t happen to know her lock code, do you?”

I shake my head.

“That’s right,” he says. “You weren’t close.”

“Right.”

In my pocket, my phone starts vibrating, the ringer off. It must be Chad, but I don’t reach for it and the detective doesn’t seem to hear it buzzing.

Then, with a tilt of his head, “Are you going to get that?”

We lock eyes, and I have no choice but to take it from my pocket. Max rubs his temples.

It’s Chad.

“You didn’t go up there, did you?” he says when I pick up. “To Dana’s studio. There’s a lot you don’t know about her. It’s not safe. She’s got major problems, Rosie.”

His voice is taut with anxiety, so different from his usual easy, in-on-the-joke-of-life manner. The detective is staring at me hard. I turn away from him, walk out of the office. I still have a right to my privacy, don’t I?

“Rosie, are you there? What did she say to you?”

“Nothing,” I answer in a sharp whisper. “She didn’t sayanything. She’s dead, Chad.”

The silence on the line is deafening, a black hole sucking in sound.

“I found her hanging from the rafters in her studio.” My voice breaks with fear, sadness, the horror of this conversation.

“Oh, God,” he breathes, shock pulling his voice into a whisper. “I’m so sorry. Are you—okay?”

No, I amdefinitely notokay. “The police are here now,” I say, hoping he gets that I don’t want to talk in front of the detective.

“Don’t say another word to them,” he tells me. “I’m calling Olivia and I’m on my way.”

I want to tell him not to come—because of the photos, because of the calls to Dana that the detective has already seen.Chad, I want to say.What the fuck is going on?But Detective Crowe is right on top of me.

And anyway, he hangs up before I can answer. “Okay,” I say to dead air. “I’ll wait here.”

Then to the detective, “He’s on his way.”

Crowe nods grimly. “Women don’t usually hang themselves,” he says darkly. “In my experience, it’s pills or a razor in the bathtub.”

Max puts his arm around me, sensing maybe that I’m wobbling a bit.

“And it took some doing. The ceilings in there must be fifteen feet tall. She made a noose, tied it off, got a ladder and—”

“That’s enough,” I say, putting up a hand. “I get it.”

I swear he smiles a little, but he hides it well. “It’s just weird, right? Why would she call you up here and then kill herself so thatyouwould find her?”

---