Page 86 of The Lost Girls of Willowbrook

She peered around the doorframe. No crazed killer waited in the hallway. No man with a razor-sharp ax. She crept slowly into the hall and made her way to the living room, the knife ready. At the living room door, she stopped and looked around the edge, terrified Wayne would be waiting there. No one sat on the couch. No one stood by the television or the window. The room was empty. She started toward the front door, then stopped halfway there. What if Wayne was hiding in the coat closet? What if he jumped out when she got near?

Trying not to make a sound, she tiptoed toward the exit, her eyes fixed on the closet handle, her heart beating so hard she thought she’d pass out. Just a few more steps and she would be at the door. Just a few more steps and she would be out of the apartment. Unless Wayne heard the deadbolt opening. Unless he jumped out of the closet and slit her throat. A floorboard creaked beneath her foot and she froze. When nothing happened, she let out her breath and kept going. Just three more feet and she would—

Out in the hall, footsteps stomped up the staircase. Someone pounded on the door.

“Police! Open up!”

She rushed forward, her hand shaking as she struggled to open the deadbolt, the chain guard, and the lock. Finally, she turned the knob and an officer burst inside, his gun drawn and pointed right at her.

“Drop the weapon!” he shouted.

She dropped the knife and put her hands in the air. “It’s not me!” she said. “I’m the one who called you!”

“Is there anyone else in the apartment?” he said.

“I don’t know.”

The cop moved forward, his gun still at the ready. “Dispatch said there’s a body?”

She nodded and pointed down the hall. “In the bedroom on the right. Under the bed.”

CHAPTER 22

Sitting in a hard plastic chair next to a cop’s desk with a scratchy wool blanket around her shoulders, Sage wrapped her hands around a paper cup filled with stale coffee. Not that she drank any or she was cold, but the cup was warm and kept her hands from shaking. The 121st Precinct station was actually hot and humid, with a sweaty, sour smell that hung in the air like the inside of a men’s locker room. Still, she couldn’t stop shivering. And it seemed like she’d been there for hours—first waiting to talk to someone, then answering a million questions while the image of Alan’s horror-filled face flashed over and over in her mind. The cop at the desk gazed at her with doubt-filled eyes, his pen poised over the report he was filling out.

“So you’re saying you were just released from Willowbrook State School and your twin sister was murdered there?” he said.

She nodded. “Yes, she was killed the same way Evie Carter was killed. Evie was a secretary at Willowbrook and they just found her body. You must have heard about her.”

He wrote something in the report.

“Did you call Detective Nolan yet?” she said. “He can tell you what’s going on. He knows I’m telling the truth.”

“Yes, they did,” a man’s voice said behind her.

She turned in the chair, and sagged in relief. Detective Nolan was heading toward them.

“Thank God you’re here,” she said.

The cop at the desk got up to let Nolan take his chair.

“I just came from your apartment,” the detective said.

“And?”

“It looks like whoever killed Rosemary and Evie might have killed your stepfather too.”

“Might have?” she said. “Ithadto be the same person! His neck and . . . and the lipstick and—”

“I know, I know. It looks like the same MO, but we can’t be one hundred percent sure.”

“Have you found Wayne yet?”

He shook his head. “We found his address and went to his residence, but he’s disappeared. Neighbors haven’t seen him in a few days.”

“Oh my God,” she said. “He must have broken into my place and killed Alan while I was sleeping.”

Detective Nolan shook his head again. “There was no sign of forced entry. And Alan’s been dead for a while now. A few days at least.”

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