I scrutinize my friends’ faces to try to catch any trace of emotion, any quivering lip, any distress, because I know the killer cared deeply for Gabriel and I’m certain my words must have inflicted particularly acute pain on him or her.

But as I contemplate these people, no single reaction stands out. They all display attitudes that could be used against them. Jack sighs and looks down. I ask him what’s up. He says he agrees with me, that the killer should have prevented Gabriel’s death, but that it can be hard to prevent such things.

Georgia also looks suspicious because she’s staring at me fixedly, her jaw clenched.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask.

“Because I agree with you, too. You would think the murderer could have stopped this suicide if he cared about Gabriel.” But she says this a bit stiffly, which makes me narrow my eyes. Yet I move on.

Penelope acts perfectly normal, which is questionable in itself.

And Lily is wiping tears from her face, which is either shady or completely understandable.

We discuss whether or not we should request the help of the police.

“We can’t tell the police,” Georgia says. “KAY is sick and needs to be protected by us. I know you may take offense at this, Lily, and I’m sorry about it, but I care much more about KAY not rotting in prison than Strad staying alive.”

“You’re right, I do take offense at that,” Lily says softly.

Jack, who—perhaps because he’s a cop—has been looking especially glum since hearing me read the letter, says, “Telling the police would be one easy way to find out which of you is the killer. Unless the killer took extreme precautions, all the police would have to do is match each one of you against the forensics from that crime scene two years ago. But the price of finding out would be high—not only for KAY, who’d end up in prison, but for the rest of us, who’d lose her. I can’t see myself sending one of you to prison for life.”

Georgia exhales loudly with relief and clasps her hands. “You feel as I do, sweet Jack!”

“What kind of cop are you, to think this way?” Lily says to him.

“A cop who’s very fond of every single one of you,” he replies, gazing at her steadily.

Penelope asks him: “Aren’t you afraid that the killer, who must be a psycho, could be dangerous not only to Strad but to anyone, including us? Personally, I’m going to be afraid now of being alone with any single one of you.” She pauses thoughtfully. “That’s not to say I’d be capable of turning any of you in. I wouldn’t be.”

Jack says, “Keeping the killer among us is a risk, but I don’t see what other option we have. We just have to hope she cares as much about us as we care about her.”

“I feel very differently from you all,” Lily says. “I would rather see one of you go to prison than see the man I love get killed.”

“The man you love,” Georgia scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Has the man you love been wonderful to you the way we have been? Have you developed a close, loving relationship with the man you love the way you have with each of us? Would the man you love do anything for you the way we would? Does he love you at all, even just as a friend?”

Lily’s hard expression softens with this reminder of our devotion to her.

“And yet you want to take this to the police?” Georgia asks her.

“Yes, I want to. But obviously I can’t.”

Now it’s Georgia’s turn to soften. She smiles and puts her hand on Lily’s arm affectionately. “Aw, so you do feel the same way we do.”

“No.” Lily removes her arm. “I have another reason. If we bring the police into this, it’ll ruin my chances with Strad. The police will reveal everything to him. They’ll tell him that for years I’ve been so in love with him that one of my friends is ready to kill him to bring me peace and free me of my obsession. I’d be so embarrassed if Strad knew any of this. I could never face him again. And he’d be so horrified, he’d never want to face me again either, I’m sure.”

In the end, we are unanimous: we will not take this to the police. We will protect Strad ourselves on the evening of his possible murder. The only thing left to do is figure out how to go about doing this.

We’re aware the killer can kill Strad without physically being with him. KAY can have Strad killed by a hired gun. Or plant a bomb that will be scheduled to explode during the four-hour window. Or countless other more ingenious ideas.

So it quickly becomes clear to us, for all sorts of reasons, that on the evening of the 27th, making sure that no one from our group will be with him won’t be enough protection. Strad must not be left alone. He must be actively protected.

My friends say we should all be with him. That’s the part I find weird.

“I understand why we can’t leave Strad alone that evening,” I tell them, “but I still don’t understand why I can’t protect him by myself. Gabriel made it clear I’m the only one of our group you can all trust. Strad and I could be alone in this apartment, and I wouldn’t let anyone in, and no one would have access to him.”

“I don’t feel good about you being alone on that occasion,” Jack says. “I’d want to be there to protect you. You never know what the killer cooked up. I understand you can’t be sure that I’m not the killer so you’ll want either all of us there or none of us there. So it has to be all. We can control whichever one of us is the killer, if she tries anything.”

Georgia says, “And the other problem is that Strad isn’t likely to want to spend an evening alone with you, Barb, in your apartment, unless it’s a date. And wouldn’t it be weird vis-à-vis Lily if you were to have a so-called date with Strad? And would Strad even want to go on a date with you? No offense, but your disguise may not be the kind of look he’s into. He thinks it’s your real appearance.”

Penelope says, “And another good reason for having us all there is that if an attempt is made on Strad’s life, we’ll get to see who among us is the killer, which we’d like to know anyway.”

I finally reluctantly relent. We will all protect Strad.

The location we pick for the evening with Strad is my apartment, which I will make killer-proof for the occasion.

Before everybody goes home, I make one final request. “I want to know if the killer among you has changed his or her mind about murdering Strad. After you leave here today, I’d like you, KAY, to call me and press any digit on your phone one time if you no longer intend to kill Strad, and three times if you still do. You don’t have to speak to me or reveal who you are. Just beeps. One beep is no. Three is yes.”

“You do realize we should protect Strad regardless of the answer you’re given,” Jack says. “Gabriel said that KAY would put considerable effort into killing Strad on the 27th. Such effort could include encouraging us to let down our guards by pretending she no longer intends to kill him.”

“Yes, I know.”

Chapter Eight

The next day, Monday, we’re gathered at Lily’s apartment for lunch, which we ordered from L’Express.

Lily tells us that when she invited Strad to have dinner with us this coming Friday, the 27th, his reaction was, “You’re kidding me! The Creators? The Knights of Creation will be there?” Strad had read one of the silly articles about us that explained no one gets to pierce our “holy circle.” The word choice was unfortunate, though the gist of it was true.

“Is there any chance we could do it on a different night?” he asked Lily. “I already have plans for dinner that night and I’m attending a party afterward.”

“No, see, that’s the thing, it can only be on that night,” she said.

“Okay, consider me there. But, just curious . . . why only that night?”

“Oh, it’s Georgia. Who knows. She gets these ideas in her head, and it has to be that night, no other night.”