Page 16 of My Killer Blind Date

‘Where to, ma’am?’ says the driver.

‘Just go!’ I cry, and sure enough, as we squeal away from the curb, Liam bursts out of the bar, obviously panting, his eyes scanning. For a second, our eyes meet, and then the cab accelerates, and he’s gone.

Safe.

For now.

Because I’m pretty sure I just went on a date with my best friend’s killer.

Chapter Five

When I wake up, I have a few seconds of ignorant bliss before last night comes crashing back.

I lie there for a second, my heart sprinting like a gun has just gone off as memories wash through me. Music thumping in my bones. Liam’s waistband under my fingers. The buzzy high from the alcohol, the way his attention melted me from the inside out, me bolting—

‘Fuck!’ I cry in my hoarse morning voice, then yank the pillow out from under my head and slam it over my face, where I promptly scream.

Maybe I should call off work. But … what would I do all day? Freak out? Might as well freak out while getting paid.

With a grunt like I’m lifting dead weight, I force my body out of bed and pad into the kitchen.

The apartment is grungy in the morning light. Dust on surfaces, garbage overflowing, dishes in the sink … whatever. I turn my focus to coffee. It’s too much trouble to brew it, so I pop a mug of water into the microwave and pull out the jar of off-brand instant coffee. Then I grab an instant oatmeal cup from the cupboard – last one. I’ll have to go grocery shopping soon.

Coffee and oatmeal; my forever breakfast. It’s calming. My heartbeat slows, my brain clears.

OK. It’s time to face the facts. Did I completely overreact last night?

If that was the case, at least I’ve earned the right. My best friend disappeared and is most likely dead. I’m allowed to be a little paranoid.

But is this paranoia? Am I reaching for connections that aren’t there, or am I seeing clearly?

As I remove the hot water and pop the oatmeal in, I remind myself that it’s not like Liam stalked me or anything. The date with Liam was Arjun’s idea, probably to get back in George’s good graces. And what are the odds that, of all the guys in Chicago, I’d randomly end up on a date with Zoe’s killer?

Small. Even I can admit that.

But not zero.

The microwave beeps and I give the oatmeal a stir. Then, before I can talk myself out of it, I grab my phone and dial the lead detective for Zoe’s case. It rings twice.

‘This is Barnett.’

‘Hi, Detective Barnett. It’s Margot. Zoe Dawson’s friend? I know it’s been a while …’

‘Margot! Good to hear from you. I was actually about to call you, but – what can I do for you this morning?’

‘I have a lead.’

‘I’m listening.’

I take a deep breath. I know I need to sound calm, logical. No one trusts a panicky woman.

‘Long story short,’ I begin, ‘I went on a blind date last night with this guy. Liam.’ In as detached a fashion as I can, I walk Barnett through the whole story. As I talk, I replay our date in my head at lightning speed, realizing Liam never told me anything about himself. I don’t even know his last name … but he found out everything about me. I take another deep breath.

‘… so I think he needs to be questioned,’ I finish. ‘Based on all of this?’

There’s an awkward pause. Barnett’s silence tells me everything I need to know, and my heart plummets.

‘Listen, Margot … The reason I wanted to call you? I’m classifying the case as inactive.’