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  “So what’s the truth?” Judy stopped on the sidewalk, and Alice turned to face her.

  “I went to meet somebody, a man I’ve been seeing. I didn’t plan on Grady coming back into my life. He did that on impulse. So I had to break up with someone, now that he’s back.”

  “Why didn’t you just call him?”

  “I don’t dump men on the phone. Do you?”

  “But you weren’t gone long enough. I saw you go into the building, like, five minutes ago.”

  “I ran into his partner in the lobby, and he told me he wasn’t there. So I’ll have to catch him later or maybe settle for a phone call, when Grady isn’t around.”

  Mary’s neck erupted in blotches. Bennie never shared this kind of personal information with them and still wouldn’t have, if Judy hadn’t made her. “That explains everything, to me.”

  Judy swallowed visibly. “It does. Sorry.”

  “Good, now I have some questions for you.” Alice wanted to flush Judy out. If the associate didn’t come clean, she wouldn’t survive the night. “Why did you follow me in the first place? What were you thinking?”

  “It’s been a bad day, I know, and I . . . was worried about you.”

  Yeah, right. “Why didn’t you simply tell me that?”

  “I was going to, but then Mary came, and you, right after.”

  “You’re sure that’s it?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Nothing else?”

  “No.”

  You just signed your own death warrant.

  Mary interrupted, “Looks like rain. We’d better get back.”

  “You’re right, DiNunzio.” Alice got the girls walking again. “Tell you what, Carrier. I’m having dinner tonight with a biotech company from Dublin, Ireland. I’m meeting the CEO, the general counsel, and an operations type. This just came up today, and I’d love to get their business. Do you want to come with me?”

  “Sure.” Judy sounded pleased, which was just what Alice wanted.

  “Good. It will be a late night, though. They’re expecting me to show them around. They’ve never been to Philadelphia, and I have to show them how much fun we are.”

  “No problem. My boyfriend’s away on a job. What company is it?”

  “It’s a fairly complicated parent-sub relationship. I’ll let you know before the meeting.”

  Mary interrupted, “I’ll take Grady to dinner. How about that?”

  “Thanks.” Alice squeezed Mary’s arm. “Make him pay. Order the lobster.”

  “You’re on.” Mary smiled as they hurried along. Suddenly it started to drizzle, and everybody on the sidewalk picked up the pace, fumbled for umbrellas, or covered their heads with purses.

  “Haul ass!” Alice shouted, and the women half-ran and half-scooted down the crowded sidewalk, hustling all the way back to the office in the rain. They hurried past the Rothman guards and through the doors, then emptied into the lobby, out of breath, laughing, and slightly damp.

  Steve looked up from the security desk. “You guys need some paper towels?”

  “No, thanks.” Alice led the girls to the elevator bank, swiped her card, and punched the button with a wet hand.

  Mary grinned. “I can’t keep up with you two. My legs are too short.”

  “You did fine, stumpy.” Judy’s soaked hair was red as blood.

  Alice ushered them into the elevator when the doors opened, and pushed the button. They prattled on about hair, and she zoned them out, alone with her thoughts. The rain was a lucky break because it would get darker sooner, and she and Judy would have dinner at a restaurant down by the Delaware River, where there were fewer people and plenty of back alleys.

  The elevator doors slid open, and the women dripped into the reception area, where Marshall and Grady were standing. Grady turned, smiling. “What happened to you guys?”

  “We went on a field trip, girls only.” Alice walked over and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m taking Carrier to dinner tonight, so you’re dating DiNunzio, okay?”

  “Great!”

  “We’ll be out late with an Irish client, so don’t wait up. Now let me get back to my office. I have to make one more call before the end of the day.”

  “Go ahead,” Grady said, and Alice left them in reception. She went down the hallway, entered her office, and closed the door behind her, then walked around the desk, opened the bottom drawer, and moved aside some correspondence. Underneath, where she had hidden it, lay her revolver.

  She picked it up and checked the chamber. It housed six bullets, which was five more than she would need for Judy. She clicked it back into place and aimed it at the air, imagining her target.

  “Bang!” she whispered.

  Chapter Seventy-nine

  Mary spent the next hour or so at her desk, returning calls, answering emails, and tackling the day’s correspondence. Her cell phone started ringing, and she slid it from her holster, thinking immediately of Anthony, but the screen showed the realtor’s number.

  “Hi, Mary,” Janine said, “the owner has your offer, and they’re considering it.”

  “That’s all? I offered the asking price.” Mary sighed just as Grady popped his head into her open door, and she waved him into the chair opposite her desk, where he sat down, silently.

  Janine was saying, “I think they’ll accept, but there are other offers, so don’t start celebrating. They have three days to accept, and it’s prudent to take the full time.”

  “I don’t want to get into a bidding war.”

  “I’ll call you when I know something. In the meantime, we have to line up an inspector, and I’ll email you with a referral.”

  “Thanks.” Mary pressed END and set the phone down.

  “The house?” Grady asked. “It’ll come through.”

  “I hope so. It cost me my boyfriend.”

  “Wanna talk about it? I’m here.” Grady looked sympathetic, but Mary didn’t know him well enough to cry on his shoulder.

  “Nah, thanks. I’m fine.” She reached for her computer mouse. “Let’s look online for a restaurant. What would you like? Chinese? French? Steak? They’re gonna be out late.”

  “I know, Bennie gave me the house keys. I’m supposed to put them in the flowerpot for her, then go to sleep.” Grady rose and came around the desk. “On a different point, this thing Judy’s talking about, that somehow Bennie is really Alice. You don’t agree with her, do you?”

  “No.” Mary looked up. “Why?”

  “It’s odd.” Grady leaned against the credenza, slipping his hands into his pockets. His shirtsleeves were rolled up, and his striped tie loosened. “I’ve been thinking about it ever since Judy said it.”

  “Really?” Mary was starting to wonder if the world had gone nuts.

  “It’s like when someone asks you if you hear water dripping, and you don’t. But then, after they mention it, it’s all you hear. You’re listening for it, then. You understand?”

  “You mean you agree with Judy now? You said you didn’t.”

  “I know, I didn’t.” Grady’s brow knit in confusion. “But now I’m thinking about it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of some things that happened last night, between Bennie and me. Little things, like she gave me a glass of milk and she knows I hate milk.”

  “Not a smoking gun.”

  “But it was an old joke between us, because she loves milk so much.”

  “So she forgot. You haven’t seen her in a couple of years. Do you remember which drink she absolutely hates? There is one.”

  Grady’s expression went blank. “Uh, no.”

  “Root beer.”

  “Touché.”

  “Plus, you surprised her with your visit, didn’t you? Your coming in probably threw her for a loop.” Mary was thinking about the man who worked at Mellon Center. “She’s just off her game.”

  “Possibly.”

  “Definitely.”

  “So Judy’s completely wrong?”
>
  “Yes.” Mary’s cell phone rang and she checked the display screen, hoping again for Anthony, but no luck. “Excuse me, it’s my parents. I’ll just be a minute.” She pressed the green button and said, “Hi.”

  “Maria, Maria!” It was her mother, in tears.

  “Ma, what’s the matter?”

  “Your father, he’s a cheat with Fiorella!”

  “What?” Mary asked, shocked.

  “He’s a with Fiorella! Come home, per favore, Maria! Tornare a casa!”

  “I’m on my way,” Mary said, springing to her feet.

  Chapter Eighty

  Bennie’s heart stopped when she saw the gun, but Kendra turned it around and handed it over.

  “Take this, Alice,” she said, her tone softer. “You need it more than I do right now. Sorry about what I said. You’re right. We were being selfish.”

  Caitlin looked over. “Ken, you have a gun? Why?”

  “Protection,” Kendra answered. “The gym’s open late and sometimes I have to lock up.”

  Bennie examined the gun, a new Beretta, sized for women. It was a peace offering, and even Alice would have shown some remorse in the circumstances. “Sorry I did the freak, guys. I’m a little jumpy, with the apartment and all.”

  “I’m sorry, too.” Caitlin dug in her purse and came out with a baggie full of white capsules. “Here. Take your chill pill. You’ll feel better.”

  Whoa. “Not in the mood.”

  “Come on, we know how you get. Take the bag.”

  Bennie felt them watching her, waiting. She had never taken a drug in her life, but she didn’t want them to doubt her. She put the gun in her pocket, plucked the bag from Caitlin’s hand, and popped a capsule in her mouth, swallowing it dry.

  “Just the one?”

  “Listen, you guys should go. I’ll call you as soon as I have another supplier.”

  “Please don’t wait too long,” Caitlin said, and Kendra nodded.

  “Alice, seriously, I rely on the extra income. I’ve lost clients because of the economy. I need to make up the difference.”

  “I hear you.” Bennie walked to the door, opened it, and gestured them out to the hallway. “I’ll be in touch. Don’t worry.”

  They left together, and Bennie closed the door, her gaze traveling over the disarray. The shattered lamp, the strewn papers. It felt strange, standing in Alice’s place as Alice, having drugs and a loaded gun. She imagined Alice in her place, as her. And now they had switched businesses, too.

  Her gaze fell on something bright amid the debris near the desk, a red book sliding out of a thick manila envelope. She went over, picked up the envelope, and looked inside. It wasn’t like the bills and printed papers; next to the book was a packet of letters. She slid out the book, which turned out to be Alice’s college yearbook, her name stamped in fake gold on its pebbled cover. Papers were wedged inside like a bookmark, and she opened the yearbook to the page, moving them aside.

  Senior Class Monster Mash, read the top, above photos of couples slow-dancing, in Halloween costumes. Her eyes went immediately to Alice, drawn there because it was like looking at a photo of herself, in costume. Alice was dressed as Alice in Wonderland, in a blue smock with a white pinafore, and was dancing with a tall boy in a rabbit outfit, complete with top hat. He was handsome, very tall, with dark, lively eyes and a wide smile, though he had a jagged scar on his right cheek. Under the photo, the caption read ALICE AND HER MAD HATTER.

  Bennie sat down on the couch with the yearbook. She had never seen a photo of Alice from her college days and flipped through the yearbook for more candids. There were none, so she went to the senior pictures in the back, finding Alice in the C’s. Again, her face was exactly Bennie’s, and under the picture, the caption listed no activities, though there was a personal note that read “Hugs and kisses to Biggest Dave, TLF.”

  True love forever?

  Bennie paged through the senior pictures, starting back at the A’s, looking for Biggest Dave. It took her until she got to the G’s, when she found a senior photo of the Mad Hatter, recognizable because of the scar. His name was David Gamil, and he’d played Intramural basketball and been in ROTC. Under his photo, the caption said, “Alice, you are my wonderland, TLF.” In the margin of the page, he had written, All my love always and forevermore, in neat printing.

  She blinked, surprised that Alice was capable of a normal love relationship. She paged idly through the book, noticing something else. There were no other handwritten notes from friends with their pictures. She turned to the inside front cover, then the inside back cover. There were no written notes by friends, anywhere. She thought a minute, then looked up from the yearbook and scanned the tables and shelves in the living room. There were no photographs, even on the floor, and there hadn’t been any in the bedroom. Alice had no friends, and neither of them had any family, except each other.

  Bennie thought of her own house. She didn’t have any photos of anybody else around, either, except Bear. That was why Alice could so completely take over her life, with nobody the wiser. Because nobody really knew Bennie that well at all. She looked down at the yearbook in her hands and noticed the blood drying on her hand, where she’d taken the bandage off. She wished she could see it at cell-level, down to her very twisted DNA. It was Alice’s DNA, too. They both had good blood and bad blood, but how much of each?

  She pressed the thought aside and went to the packet of letters, which looked like ten of them in a thick rubber band. She tugged the first letter from the pack, and the envelope was addressed to Alice, at this address. The postmark was foreign, with Arabic writing. She slid out the single page of notebook paper, which read:

  Dear Alice, It’s so great that you got back in touch with me, even though I’m deployed here, on my third tour. The military lets us have a Facebook page, but we have to keep it PG-13. Ha! I thought about you a lot over the years and am so happy you have a new job, and came through everything okay . . .

  Bennie’s eyes skipped to the bottom of the letter, and it was signed, Love, Dave. So Alice had gotten back in touch with Dave Gamil, from college. Surprised, Bennie checked the date on the letter. It was two years ago, about the time Alice had started at PLG. She thumbed through the rest of the envelopes, and they were saved in chronological order. She went to the second letter, which was dated two months after the first.

  Dear Alice, I love your letters and packages, they remind me of home, college days, and mostly you, and how happy we were. All the guys are jealous that I get such great cookies, too, but you’re not supposed to send the Playboys. I gave them away, because I’m thinking of you more and more . . .

  It showed Bennie that Alice had a good side and that she hadn’t been wrong to trust her. It was so hard to believe, now, after the box. Bennie opened the next few letters:

  Dear Alice, I love you, and you have changed everything for me, even in this hellhole. I’m so happy that we got our old flame rekindled. I never used to care about getting home soon, with my folks gone. But now I wish I could get this job done and see you tomorrow . . .

  Dear Alice, I think of you all the time, day and night, and so much of my time here is just sitting and waiting, then all hell breaks loose. My buddy Mojo says it’s like baseball, hurry up and wait. We have an operation coming up soon, but don’t worry . . .

  Dear Alice, I am so sick of this place sometimes! I sweated through my armor and I stink like hell, and all I want to do is finish my job, go home, and take you to bed. I look at your picture a lot, and Mojo says his wife is more beautiful but he thinks tracer fire is beautiful . . .

  Bennie skimmed the next few, which were love letters, then came to the next-to-last one:

  Babe, I know this isn’t the kind of thing to do in a letter, but I love you and I can’t wait until I’m home and I don’t want it to be in email, so here goes! WILL YOU MARRY ME? PLEASE SAY YES! We would be so happy together and we could raise a basketball team of our own . . .

  Alice, engaged? B
ennie stopped reading. She couldn’t believe it had gone this far. She put the letter back in the stack, and the motion dislodged another envelope from the back, which fell to the rug. She picked it up and opened it, but there wasn’t a letter inside, just a newspaper clipping. The clipping showed a photo of David Gamil in uniform, with the same scar on his cheek and the same lively look in his eyes. But it was an obituary, and the beginning read:

  First Lieutenant David N. Gamil, USAF, of Paramus, New Jersey, who served with the 6th Security Forces Squadron, was killed in action on March 20, when enemy forces attacked his vehicle with an improvised explosive device, near southern Baghdad, Iraq. . . .

  It was awful news, the loss of a wonderful young man, and she could only imagine the pain Alice must have felt. Bennie checked the date on the newspaper; March 21, just last spring. She looked back at the last letter, his proposal, and it was dated March 19.

  She tried to process what she had learned, with the pill taking the edge off her emotions. It must have been Dave’s death, about six months ago, that set Alice back and caused her to revert to form. That was about the time she’d lost interest in her job at PLG, started selling drugs, and sleeping with Q. Alice must have been grief-stricken, off-balance and self-destructive.

  But no.

  Bennie came out of her reverie. There was a difference between explaining and explaining away. What Alice had done could be explained, but it couldn’t be explained away. Not anymore, and not again. The box had changed everything, and there was no going back anymore, no way of forgiving.

  Bennie got up, letting the yearbook and letters fall to the floor. She found her purse, put the pills, money, and the gun inside, then went to the bedroom, tore it apart until she found the extra car keys, and left the building.

  Cold rain pounded on her face and shoulders, making her more alert. She didn’t know if Alice had left her car here, but there hadn’t been one in the driveway at the house, she remembered now. She pulled the car key from her pocket and pressed the button on the fob. Down the street, a red Toyota came to life.