Martha had been upset, given a week on her own to dwell on the loss of her brother, that past brought into her home then, talk of more deaths. It was hardly surprising that she’d become fearful for Alex’s safety but that was hardly a good measure of whether he was really in danger or not.
And despite that, as the journey went on, he decided at least to treat it as a theoretical risk, determined not to make the same mistake Rob had possibly made. He’d find out if Natalie was engaged and then he’d confront her, ask her why she’d lied.
He wouldn’t necessarily get the truth of course. He didn’t remember Natalie being a good liar, a woman he still thought of as emotionally transparent. Yet if she’d known about Will’s death and Matt’s she’d done an impressive job of concealing it at Rob’s funeral. He’d have to be prepared for more of the same.
Above all, he had to remain open to the possibility of Martha being right. If they were both simply being paranoid then maybe he’d lose a friend he’d only just found again. But if they were right – if they were right she’d never been a friend in the first place and the picture on Matt’s desk contained a lie.
He got a taxi from Grand Central to Kate’s building. There were plenty of people out on her street. It was too cold to be sitting around but the sun was shining and people were making something of it, walking idly, a couple of people talking like they hadn’t seen each other in a while.
He pressed the buzzer and after waiting a few seconds checked his watch, realizing he should have taken the cab to Columbia instead. He looked around and up at the blue sky and decided to walk. If he walked to the corner and imagined himself coming from her old apartment he’d probably get his bearings and find his way.
He headed toward the traffic noise, though it didn’t seem so bad once he got there, and now that he was on the corner he felt like he knew where he was. He set off, tightening his grip on his overnight bag as he walked the busier street, meeting the faces as they passed.
A little way on he turned again onto a slightly quieter street and was more relaxed as he walked, taking in the coffee shops, book and record stores. There was jazz playing in a second-hand record store that he thought he remembered going into with Kate the last time he was there.
The people here looked more like students, a good atmosphere. Near the end of the street he came to a second-hand bookstore and stopped to look in the window. There were some bookshelves outside but the prize finds were stocked in the window and he studied them for a few minutes.
Tattered copies of Edgar Allan Poe, Walt Whitman, Stephen Crane, 60s paperbacks of Truman Capote and Norman Mailer, magic books with a promising look of the arcane about them, none of them priced. He considered going in to buy something for Kate but thought better of it. Perhaps it would be nicer to go back together, encourage her to choose something herself.
He could imagine them browsing in there for an hour or more. She’d see something she liked and he’d buy it for her and they’d stroll along the street to one of the coffee shops, letting the afternoon drift by, deciding with no hurry what they’d do that evening.
He looked back up the street, taking in its laid-back atmosphere. Maybe Kate just found it hard being there alone. If they were together he could imagine them taking to the lifestyle, becoming part of the city. He’d go wherever she wanted though, because for him, anything was better than where and who he was now.
He turned to carry on his way and saw a young guy walking towards him. For a moment Alex wasn’t sure which way he was heading, into the shop or past Alex and along the street. They both seemed to second-guess each other in the wrong direction and Alex smiled and said sorry.
The guy didn’t smile back. He came close to bumping into Alex but side-stepped him at the last second, and then Alex felt a twinge on the side of his neck, like he’d been stung or hit by a pellet. It wasn’t painful but made him shudder and he looked around, trying to establish what had happened. It had been so quick, too quick even for him to remember what he’d looked like, just someone young, scruffy denims, messy hair.
He could feel something wet now around his collar and lifted his hand to it, a weakening shock surging through him as he felt the warm liquid pumping from the wound in his neck. He could feel himself falling, heard a woman scream, a hammer blow as his head landed on the paving stone.
The guy had sliced his neck with a blade. Alex lifted his hand above his face and looked at the blood that coated it. It had happened too quickly, no time to reflect. He could feel the blood sliding out of him into a pool on the sidewalk, imagined it encircling him, deep crimson, shining like plastic.