Mabel

I whirled around to see Maurice standing in the bathroom across from the mirrors. My hand went to my heart as I felt like all the air was being sucked out of me. “What the hell, Maurice?! What are you doing in here?!”

He just stared back at me with that same condemning smirk as always. He’d looked so dead earlier, and he didn’t look any better now, honestly, but at least he was alive. The EMTs must have revived him while I’d been in the bathroom.

I put my hands to my hips and glared at him. “Do you have any idea what you did to me? I don’t know if this is your idea of a sick joke or something, but this is so not funny. I can’t believe you!”

Maurice had the nerve to look bored.

Swallowing down some of my anger, I shook my head. “Look, I’m sorry. I realize this whole situation was probably not great for you either. And I don’t mean to sound like a selfish bitch, being as you just got hurt.”

I flicked my eyes to his and went on. “But seriously. The cops actually implied that I killed you. For the record, I know we’ve had our differences, but I’m not a killer, and I would never do that.”

I sighed. “Despite the fact that you can be a real sanctimonious prig.” I held up a finger, because before he said anything, I just needed to get my feelings out there. “And you know what, actually? No more of that.” He looked just as sickly as I had earlier in the mirror, which made sense given the amount of blood he lost. “No more looking down your nose at me. We need to change things up around here. First things first—you owe everyone an apology for scaring us all by almost dying. Let’s get out there and do that! Tell the officers that this was just some sick prank.”

With one hand, I smoothed my hair down one last time and turned. “Oh,” I added, “And after that, I’m taking the afternoon off. And I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

Outside the restroom, the lobby was busier than ever. Apparently a lot more people had shown up while I was having my little meltdown and giving Maurice a piece of my mind. Detective Anaya was to my right talking to Mr. Witherspoon, the apartment manager. Poor Witherspoon was hysterical, wringing his hands and mumbling even more than normal. I stopped a few feet behind them and heard Witherspoon hiccupping through a eulogy on the spot. “Maurice was the most…the most d-dedicated employee,” he sniffled. “He was so loyal to The Ivy…and everyone here depended on him…”

It seemed like he hadn’t heard that Maurice had made a recovery yet. Thankfully, I had news that would cheer him up. I walked up to the two of them to make Witherspoon’s day and get Detective Hot-Face off my back, but the elevator doors opened.

Everyone in the lobby seemed to stop and watch as a body bag was rolled out by a pair of cops. They approached Mr. Witherspoon, who recoiled at the sight and started sobbing again. “Mr. Witherspoon,” the cop from earlier said loudly, “we need you to calm down for a moment and confirm the deceased for us.”

I froze where I was, unable to move as I held my breath and waited. There must have been some other body found in the building. But I had no idea who—if Maurice was okay now, then who the hell was in the bag?

“It’s him,” Witherspoon said. “That’s Maurice.”

The cop nodded and rezipped the bag, and I couldn’t stop myself. I ran over to them, shaking my head. “Stop! This is a mistake. That’s not Maurice.”

Santiago frowned but nodded at the cop to reopen the bag. I looked down and staggered backward like a gust of wind had blown me back. There was no way. “It can’t be…he’s not dead…”

Witherspoon caught me, his voice soft and weepy still. “Poor dear,” he said, patting my arm. “The trauma is getting to you, Mabel.”

His voice barely registered as I stared past the worried crowd toward the restroom door. If Maurice was in the body bag…if he really was dead, then why did I see him in the bathroom? Everything started spinning, and my head felt light.

Something was happening to me, and I had no idea what.