The Uber ride to Cassie’s apartment takes under ten minutes. I debate whether I should give her a call to let her know Joel is coming, and in the end, I decide to shoot her a text. She doesn’t respond, but I figure she’s busy.
When we get out at the building, I find Cassie’s name on the intercom and wait for her to buzz us up. After about thirty seconds of waiting, I turn to Joel. “I don’t get it,” I say. “She told me to come over.”
“I’ve got a key,” Joel offers.
I step back and allow him to open the door, but it’s certainly not what we expected. My stomach is doing flip-flops on the way up to Cassie’s apartment. Something is going on. I can feel it in my gut. The same way I knew Francesca was up to something.
“I don’t get it,” I say again. “She said she was going to stay in the apartment and wait for me.”
“Maybe she’s in the shower?”
But I don’t think she’s in the shower. And I can tell from the look on Joel’s face that he doesn’t think so either. He presses the button on the elevator again, willing it to ascend faster. I think we’re both frightened of what we’re going to find up there.
When we get to the Cassie’s door, I nudge Joel. “Don’t ring. Just open it up.”
We exchange silent looks. He fits his key in the lock and opens the door.
Joel’s face blanches when he gets inside. I take a step back, my breath caught in my throat. Cassie is lying on the floor by her dining table, unconscious. Her dark hair is splayed around her and her face is colorless. Her eyes are open to slits.
And there’s Lydia.
Standing over her, an unreadable expression on her face. Oh my God. It’s even worse than I had imagined.
“Cassie!” Joel rushes to his girlfriend’s side. He’s in doctor mode now, checking her pulse, seeing if she’s breathing. He saved her the other night when she accidentally ate peanuts—this time it could be too late. “Cassie, wake up!”
I take a tentative step toward Lydia, whose mouth is hanging open. “Lydia, what have you done? What’s going on here?”
Lydia’s eyes dart around the room. “I didn’t do anything! We were just… I mean, I was chatting with her and she passed out.”
“Call 911!” Joel barks at us. He looks up at Lydia, who still has the deer-in-headlights look. “Unless you already did?”
“No,” Lydia says softly. “I did not.”
The look of anger on Joel’s face is almost terrifying. “Why not?” “Because… I…” She rings her hands together. “I didn’t know what
to do. She just… dropped. I’m not a doctor like you.”
I reach for my phone within my purse and call 911. I tell them we’ve got an unconscious woman on the floor.
“They’re on their way,” I report.
“She’s still breathing,” Joel reports, a look of relief on his face. He looks up at Lydia. “What did you give her?”
Lydia sinks onto the sofa and buries her face in her hands. “I’m sorry,” she whimpers. “I just miss Francesca so much… I wasn’t… I didn’t mean to…”
But Joel isn’t listening. He’s crouched next to Cassie, whispering to her, “Hang in there. Please hang in there. You’re going to be okay…”
