Yeah, I know that, Brynn. Her tone is sharp. She slaps her hands on the table and pushes back her chair abruptly. Ive got to get back to A blast from the doorbell cuts her off.

Theres Ca.s.sie, Brynn says, and hurries to open the door.

Emerging from his office building onto Lexington Avenue, Isaac sees the drenching downpour and groans inwardly.

He should have looked out the window before heading out to get lunch.

Should he go back up and grab an umbrella, or just make a run to the deli around the corner on Forty-Sixth?

Hes debating when his cell phone suddenly vibrates in his pocket.

He flips it open, checks the caller ID window, and immediately recognizes the area code and exchange.

Cedar Crest.

His heart starts to pound.

Heart racing, he steps away from the group of chatty smokers standing beneath the overhang above the entrance, keeping dry as they puff away.

h.e.l.lo?

Isaac? Oh, my goodness Im so glad I got you. I thought you should know Whats wrong?

Its Matilda Harrington. Shes just been killed, Puffy Trovato, the Zeta Delta Kappa housemother, announces breathlessly in his ear.

Weve got to tell the police, Brynn announces, again.

Shes been saying it for an hour, at least, since the moment Ca.s.sie arrived.

And every time Brynn says it, Fiona vehemently disagrees.

She does again now, so loudly that Brynn shushes her with yet another, Shh! Jeremys sleeping.

Fiona would like nothing better than to get the h.e.l.l out of here, but she cant just walk away from this intense powwow at the Saddlers kitchen table.

The moment she does, Brynn will probably call the cops and tell them everything.

Shealready called them, actually, after she found the dead cardinal in her kitchen this morning. They apparently believe it was some kind of prank.

It wasnt, of course.

And when Brynn spoke up about the bird, and the cops, Fionas blood ran cold.

Still, she said nothing about the rose.

She probably wouldnt have, regardless of whether Ca.s.sie immediately spoke up to announce that someone had left a recording of the sorority song on her voice mail.

Did you tell anyone about it? Fiona asked sharply, and was relieved when Ca.s.sie shook her head.

What about you, Fee? Did anything strange happen to you? Brynn asked, but still, Fiona didnt mention the rose.

And the more time that goes by, the more difficult it will be to bring it up.

So she should do it now Or she shouldnt do it at all.

She isnt entirely sure why shes unwilling other than because it might push Brynn over the edge if she thinks all three of them have been targeted by the same person who murdered Tildy.

I just dont get it. How can you believe we shouldnt report this, Fiona? Brynn asks now, her voice almost shrill.

Fiona takes perverse pleasure in saying, Shh! Jeremys sleeping.

This isnt like the birthday cards, Ca.s.sie speaks up quietly after a pause. Its different now. Somebodysdead .

Fiona can tell that Brynns paranoia is really starting to sway Ca.s.sie.

When Ca.s.sie walked in here, haggard and emotional, she kept looking over her shoulder as if she thought she was being followed. Now, she seems weary as well; she keeps yawning, and the bags beneath her eyes indicate she hasnt had a good nights sleep in awhile.

Maybe what happened to Tildy has nothing to do with thiswith us, Fiona points out stubbornly, and, all right, perhaps foolishly. Still, she goes on, Maybe it was some random thing, a serial killer, a robbery It was herbirthday, Fiona. Brynns tone is contained now, but she looks as though shes on the verge of hysteria. It has everything to do with us. And Rachel.

Do you think Rachel did it? Is that what youre saying?

Theres a moment of silence.

Then Brynn replies, Yes, I do, all right? I think Rachel did it.

Because ?

Ca.s.sie answers the question. Because we left her in the woods to die.

Not the three of us, Fiona says. Wethought she was already dead. We weretold she was already dead. If she wasnt, and Tildy lied, well, then, maybe Tildy got what was coming to her Wow, thats harsh, even to her own ears. But the rest of us didnt do anything wrong.

We still left her there, Fee. Brynn is adamant. That was wrong.

Not as wrong as if she were alive. Im so d.a.m.ned sick of going around and around about this!

So am I, Ca.s.sie agrees.

Then lets just drop it. We all know that wethought we were leaving a body, and that someone would find it.

Well,we know, but how would Rachel know that? Brynn asks. How would she know Tildy lied to usif she did lie?

Maybe she was listening. Fiona cant quite keep the sarcasm from her voice.

I doubt that. Ca.s.sie shakes her head. The chances of her even being alive after a fall like that, let alone conscious, with all she had to drink So youre saying that for all Rachel knows, we were as responsible as Tildy was.

Im not saying Rachel knows anything because I truly think Rachel died that night. Fionas words are far more decisive than she feels inside, but someone has to be in charge now that Tildys gone.

And gone forever.

Whatever happens from here on in is up to the three of them.

It can be up to me alone, if I play this right,Fiona thinks.

The police are probably never going to connect Tildys death with what happened to Rachel, Ca.s.sie says slowly, or with us, unless we tell them.

Which we cant do, Fiona responds firmly. Something like that will destroy all our lives.

Including yours, Brynn. You just have no idea to what extent.

We have to do it anyway, Brynn says, just as firmly, oblivious to the fact that Tildy had other secrets. Secrets that had nothing to do with Rachel and the sorority.

We dont have to do anything, Fiona tells her, longing to get off this frustrating carousel.

We have to tell the police about this, if for no other reason than that whoever killed Tildy might be coming after us.

Maybe not after Fiona, Ca.s.sie points out. I mean, nothing strange turned up on her voice mail or in her house last night.

Brynn turns to Fiona. Are you sure? Youdid sleep at home last night, right?

Whats that supposed to mean?

I know you had a date in Boston, Brynn adds suddenly. Thoughtfully. You know I completely forgot that you were in Boston last night, Fee.

Wide-eyed, Ca.s.sie is looking from Brynn to Fiona. You were in Boston? So you really were throwing Tildy a surprise party after all? Because Lena acted like Surprise party? What are you talking about? I was at the Red Sox game with one of my clients.

You didnt give Tildy a surprise party?

If I did, dont you think Id have said something to you by now?

Ca.s.sie falls into a troubled silence again, but shes furiously chewing her bottom lip.

So you went straight home after the game, right?

Fiona forces herself to maintain eye contact with Brynn. Right. After the gameand dinner at a j.a.panese restaurant.

And really, what happened after that is none of your business.

What about your mail? Brynn persists. Did you check it when you got home?

Yes, I checked it.

And she did. When she stopped home this morning to shower and change just before heading to the office which is where she found the b.l.o.o.d.y rose and her nice, orderly world turned upside down and inside out.

Look. She glances from Brynn to Ca.s.sie and back again. I know youre both shaken up by this. So am I. But I honestly dont think were in any kind of actual danger. And I think the best thing we can do right now is just sit tight.

Thats easy for you to say. Ca.s.sie leans back in her chair, arms folded across her chest, expression gaunt as she looks at her friends. Your birthdays arent coming up next weekend.

According to the munic.i.p.al department, the garbage cans on and around Matilda Harringtons block havent been emptied in the last twenty-four hours.

About to pull out of the Dunkin Donuts parking lot long after dusk, Quincy answers his phone and is promptly informed that none of the trash receptacles in the area has yielded a discarded bouquet of red roses.

So, unless someone walked off with them Which could have happened, Deb protests, seated in the pa.s.sengers seat of the sedan, tearing a sip hole in the plastic lid of yet another cup of black coffee.

Youre saying you believe he was telling the truth? Quincy closes his cell phone and tucks it back into his pocket, then takes a quick, soothing swig from his own his own take-out cup.

Herbal tea. He made the permanent switch from coffee awhile back.

Predictably, his last partner, Don Kopacynski, gave him a h.e.l.l of a time about it. Quincy didnt bother to tell him that coffee aggravates his irritable bowel syndrome. He figured Kopacynski would have had a field day with that added information.

Deb, to her credit, has so far refrained from commenting on Quincys food-and-beverage choices.

Sure, she says with a shrug, Wilmington could be telling the truth. He might have tossed the bouquet like he said, and then someone could have walked by the garbage can, seen a beautiful bouquet of red roses, and taken it.

Not beautiful. Wilted. And, theoretically, sure, that could have happened. But it didnt. This guy is hiding something.

Your gut instinct again?

Exactly.

At least now he has something a little more solid to go on, though not enough to make an arrest.

Theyve just spent the last few hours interviewing Matilda Harringtonsand Ray Wilmingtonscoworkers at the nonprofit headquarters where they worked. Mike is still over there, wrapping things up.

The descriptions of Ray Wilmington were almost cliche, at least in Quincys line of work. The guy is quiet, a loner, keeps to himself.

He is also, everyone agreed, infatuated with Matilda Harrington, much to her coworkers amus.e.m.e.ntand her own ill-concealed dismay.

That she didnt welcome Rays awkward advances was common knowledge around the office. Yet n.o.body seemed to know any details about her love life, and she didnt bring a date to her party.

Her date book, confiscated from her home, reveals little information that might shed any light on her dating habits.

The daily notations, all made in pencil from last June on, are pretty straightforward: work-related appointments, arrangements she was making for her birthday party, personal errands and reminders.

There is only one cryptic entry And its for next weekend.

The initialsG.S. are jotted on all three pages in Tildys unmistakable handwriting.

In ink.

That alone sets the entry apart.

Why not in pencil, like the other entries?

Who is G.S.?

And who sent those roses that were found inside her house? They were ordered from a busy Back Bay florist shop weeks ago, paid for in cash. The clerk thought a woman had ordered them, but couldnt be sure.

Still pondering that, Quincy shifts intoDRIVE and pulls out of the parking lot, heading back toward headquarters. Theyve got a ton of paperwork to do before they can call it a night. So much for the Red Sox game.