She turned out the light to cloak her sin in darkness. Within minutes a loud, quick snort sounded. It always amazed and annoyed her how men could fall asleep as if it were a simple period finalizing the last coherent sentence of the day.
Watch and beware, lest the enemy lead us in the wrong direction. My eyes are on you, Lord!
Chapter 9
Melanie was up by six a.m. and moving around the room quietly as Drew continued to snore a melancholy song of troubled sleep.
She pulled on the clothes she’d laid out the night before and grabbed her bags from under the bed. Melanie glanced at the bed where her brother lay, wishing things could be better between them. She opened the motel door and stepped outside, closing it behind her with a gentle click. A heaviness shrouded her; as if the action had signified the closing of a season in her life.
Melanie punched in the number of a taxi – one she knew by heart after the day before – then sat on the bench by the office to wait for her ride. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a light flick on and off. When she looked closer, she saw a cloud of cigarette smoke puff from the open window of a car. Someone was watching from inside a parked vehicle. Was it a stake out? If so, was it for her or Drew? Maybe it was for neither of them, and she was fast becoming paranoid. If she were the subject of interest, her cover had already been shot by her early morning appearance.
When the taxi arrived, she made a slow pass by the automobile in question. Having nothing to lose, Melanie lowered the phone with her arm, and she touched the dot on her cell’s camera, hoping to catch a view of the license plate number. Evidence. Her training had taught her that convictions were lost or gained with evidence; or the lack thereof.
Her bags loaded in the trunk, she settled into the taxi’s rear seat. She glanced sideways, but the man in the other car had lowered his eyes. Melanie hoped he was snoozing and not calling for backup on his cell. She observed the man closely as they pulled out of the parking lot. Perceiving no aggression on his part, she breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe she was growing paranoid.
The whole experience had come as close to death as she’d encountered since starting at the police force in South Carolina in the hills of Langley. She continued to survey the road behind them, but there was no one following the cab. Relief ironed out the stress she hadn’t known existed, until it had left. Captain Strecker, her boss and mentor, had said that fear was good – it kept you on your toes.
Yes, she decided to visit the precinct later. In the meantime, she’d lay low.
Melanie laughed at herself. Anyone with half a brain could have tracked her so far, had they had a mind to. She’d used her cell, taken a taxi, talked to the clerk at the store, strolled around in broad daylight, dined at a hotel in her own hometown – even a rookie cop should know this was not the way to stay off the radar. The only thing she could hope for was that the enemy wasn’t looking for a walking dead woman.
The jitters continued until the cab driver dropped her off at the Inglis Hotel. Company at the break of dawn was something Trevor Knight would not be expecting. Maybe she’d waste some time at the diner.
She walked through the reception area that was empty but for a few early birds. The smell of bacon teased her nostrils when she entered the dining area. Her eyes immediately went to the spot she’d shared with Trevor at dinner. To her surprise, he was already sitting there, sipping on his morning coffee and looking rather serious. He jumped when she slid into the seat across from him.
“Melanie?” His features lit up, and his obvious delight made her flush. He noticed her bags and grinned. “Going somewhere?”
“I believe you invited me to the Manor.”
“I did. Expected a call later, when the sun comes up.” He grinned. “You’re an early riser.”
“And so are you. Didn’t you sleep well?” Melanie glanced behind her, as was becoming a habit of late.
Trevor noticed. “Is someone following you?”
“Never sure,” she said. “Looking forward to being closed in behind those iron gates at your place.”
“Are there things we should do here first? I was wondering about the police. You should write up a report. Maybe show them the crime scene – you know the routine.”
“I did consider contacting my partner, but he doesn’t work until noon.”
“I hate to desert you, but I have to return to the office – a bit of an emergency that I need to handle personally. I was thinking I’d pay for one more night here. You finish whatever you need to here and catch the first plane to Georgia. Or maybe I should fly and leave you the car.”
“No, please – go home. I’ll follow you once I’ve gone to the station and my team is on board the investigation,” Melanie said.
“Promise you’ll stay safe and not play the heroine,” Trevor said.
“Promise. Don’t want a repeat swim down the river.”
Melanie could tell he was upset about leaving the city without her. She watched the driver open the car door for Trevor from the upstairs window inside his hotel room. He glanced up and waved before he climbed inside. She returned the gesture, offering a reassuring smile that she hoped would calm both of their nerves.
Melanie hurried into the airport nine hours later. It was busy with evening travelers, but she knew her way around, and headed to check in her bag. Towing her carry-on, she boarded the flight that she’d managed to secure at the last minute. She signed with relief when the doors closed behind the last passenger, and turned to look out the window. It had been a long day, and she was exhausted but eager to get to Knight Manor.
She had just finished up at the police station when the call came in for the flight. At first, her peers bombarded her with questions about her vacation, but after she revealed the attempted murder, they gathered around to show support. The captain offered additional time off before she’d asked. While her report was given and documented, downstairs, they ran the plates of the vehicle she’d photographed at the motel. A team of detectives and the crime-scene lab prepared to head out to investigate the river location. Melanie became unglued at the thought of returning to the woods and broke down emotionally. It was decided that she may be at risk, and leaving for her safe house in Georgia became a priority. Everyone was supportive, and for the first time, she felt a part of something bigger than herself.
It turned out that closing the airplane doors did not magically put the jet in the air. A maintenance glitch postponed take off for thirty minutes. The passengers appeared preoccupied with books, phones, computers, movies, and no one seemed to notice Melanie until a wanna-be Casanova parked himself in the vacant seat next to her. He wreaked of alcohol from a drinking binge and drooled unwanted attention over Melanie.
“Hey, baby. Didn’t I see you last night at Drake’s Bar?”
“No. You’ve confused me with someone else.”
“She sure looked like you. Purty as a picture.”
He slurred his words and Melanie made a show of annoyance, wiping away the spittle that had landed on her bare hand.
“I doubt your eyes are focused enough to see any such similarities this evening.”
He laughed, a gurgling, disgusting sound, and Melanie squeezed closer to the window. “Right snippy tonight, aren’t you?”
Melanie breathed in deeply and beckoned for the flight attendant. “May I have a pillow, please?” She beaded threatening eyes on the man parked next to her. “I’d like to rest during the flight.”
The woman nodded and smiled politely. “Of course,” she said, “but you realize it’s a short flight.”
“I do.”
The cushion was brought promptly and after the flight attendant left Melanie said to the man beside her, “Sir, maybe you should try resting instead of talking.” She stuffed the cushion under her head and leaned against the window, turning her back to her pesky neighbor. Before she could settle, Melanie heard a tell-tale snore.
Really? It was just her luck.
Melanie couldn’t sleep or
even pretend to sleep, so she changed positions and stared straight ahead. All too soon the snoring stopped, and the chatter began.
“Where you headed, little miss?”
“Georgia, obviously, unless I’ve boarded the wrong plane.”
“Didn’t sleep off that snippy attitude, did you?”
When she started to protest, he held his hands up in front of him. “Wait now. I think we got off to a poor start. My name is Stephen Alexander, the third, and I am pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“I’d love to say the feeling is mutual, but…” She decided rudeness was unnecessary, and she softened her tone. “Fine. My name is…” She suddenly paused, not sure if she should tell him her real name since she was supposed to be dead. It might just be the thing someone would remember if the news hit the media in the near future. Melanie smiled and said, “Angela Decanis, the first, I’m afraid.”
“The first is good for my way of thinking. You don’t have a family reputation to live up to or have anyone to keep you pinned under his thumb.”
“My, that sounds like a pity party.” It was one she could relate to, but he didn’t need to know that.
“Suppose it does. Many would love to walk a day in my shoes, but for reasons beyond my control, the fit is too tight of late.”
She grinned. His story sounded all too familiar, but somehow, hearing it from someone else sounded arrogant and spoiled. She wondered if that was the way people read her.
Regardless, the small nap appeared to have cleared his mind. “So, tell me sir, what would you do differently if you were not Stephen Alexander the third?”
“Ah…I’d live checking things that mattered off my bucket lists.”
“You have more than one bucket list? How interesting,” Melanie said.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. There’s the one my family supports and expects from the bachelor of the year, and then there’s one that cries out from within like a starving animal.”
“Very well said, Mr. Alexander.” Try as she might to dislike him, she had bonded with his predicament.
“Stephen…call me Stephen; Mr. Alexander is my father.”
Now, that sounded like Drew. Was everyone discontent with their station in life, always trying to climb the fence to the other side? It was as if a light turned on in her head. For the first time, she pictured the preoccupation the wealthy sector wasted on climbing to the top of the social ladder differently. The quest still sickened her, but she understood the trap and now saw the need for each individual to settle the issue in their heart.
“Okay, Stephen, it is. Tell me about your second bucket list.”
“No, you’ll just think I’m manipulating and coming on to you. My dreams are worth more than that.”
“I will try not to judge,” Melanie said.
“You can’t help yourself. I can hear the mocking lack of empathy for the miserable wealthy man ringing through every syllable you utter.”
“I’m sorry you see it that way. You think you have me all figured out, but you are mistaken,” Melanie said. “But I have no right to judge you, sir. I don’t even know you.”
“Except that I drink and talk too much.”
“Noted.”
“Am I forgiven?”
“Only if you share your bucket list with me – a completely, judge-free stranger,” Melanie said.
“Okay, you asked for it,” he said. “I want to affect the world for good: use my money to help others enjoy the basics in life and start-up endeavors that will bring economic and personal value to those in need – not just the rich and powerful.”
“That’s a grand vision, not a detailed bucket list.”
“Travel to third world countries, finance some industry so that people can live a productive life on their own soil.”
“Still pretty general. If you were set free from your prison tomorrow, what would be the first thing you’d do?”
“Hunt you down. I love the way your eyes sparkle when you toy with me in wordplay, the way you challenge me to be a better person. I adore the wild dark curls all clipped in a messy bun.” He took a breath. “You married?”
Melanie waved her left hand close to this face. “No husband.”
“Suppose I should have noticed that before playing my hand so openly.”
“Probably the effects of the booze still buzzing inside your head, Mr. Alexander.”
“I’ve lost brownie points with you again? And we seemed to be getting on better there for a minute.”
“That’s when you were the Stephen with noble ambitions, not Stephen, the womanizing drunk. Have you considered that you will require family money and position to achieve such honorable goals?”
“Good point.”
“I think I could like that person, Mr. Alexander.”
“Okay, I’m bringing him back. Sorry for the intrusion of my other-self. I am out to impress you.”
“You don’t need to impress me, a stranger you’ll probably never see again.”
“Now, don’t deal me a losing hand of cards – I like to win.”
“Win or lose, sir, we will part company within the hour, and you will need never expose the honorable Stephen to me again. In fact, I suggest you don’t. In a drunken condition, you do not appear comfortable in his virtuous shoes.”
“Ouch – that hurt.”
“You appear to bring out the worst in me. You are none of my business, and you can be anyone you want to be,” Melanie said, tiring of their banter.
The pilot’s voice sounded over the loudspeaker. They were about to land in Georgia.
When Stephen didn’t move, Melanie prompted him to action. “Better buckle up, Casanova.”
When the descent began, Stephen reached over, squeezed her left hand, and stroked her wedding ring finger.
Melanie recoiled.
His face lit up with a condescending smile. “I like you, Angela Decanis, and I would love to continue this conversation after we land.”
“I have a busy schedule. It’s best you move on to greener pastures.” Melanie pulled her hand free, turned, and planted her crimson face close to the window to watch the steady decline of the aircraft. She couldn’t wait to get off the plane and be rid of Mr. Contradiction beside her. His plight – if any of his ramblings were to be taken seriously – ran parallel to her wealth-verses-poverty dilemma. Today, she felt cheapened by her rebellion and it had taken a drunk to open her eyes. Money could help change the world. It didn’t have to own someone – she could own it.
Without a word, Melanie declined Mr. Alexander’s offer to help, and wrenched her carry-on down from the compartment overhead. She shook her head when he pleaded for her to reconsider his suggestion to get better acquainted. His insistence annoyed her, and in light of the past few days, her discomfort reached an all-time high when she felt his frisky gaze follow her off the plane, through the baggage department, and finally to the airport curb. Just when she thought she’d shaken him, he called out again, armed and ready with his final plea.
“Angela – please this can’t be goodbye forever. Meet me somewhere for a drink.”
“I think you can find more suitable drinking companions,” Melanie said.
“Sorry. Bad idea. How about supper? A late supper? You must be starved.”
She was, but she didn’t want him to know that. “I’m in a hurry, remember?”
“Too busy to eat?”
Melanie thought about her mission to solve the case. It was late and Trevor didn’t expect her until tomorrow. Food and a hotel room were first on her list, but did she want to encourage this Romeo character? She focused her attention on the man. He was rich and full of himself – a definite complication she didn’t need, especially now.
Her final reasoning clinched it. Being seen in her company, could put his life in danger or…
Melanie clasped her hand over her mouth to still the alarm that escaped as another scenario presented itself. What if meeting him had not been a chance encounte
r? He was pushing the supper idea a bit too earnestly for her liking. Melanie did not entertain the illusion that she was the drop-dead gorgeous type, able to stop men in their tracks. She scolded herself for letting her guard down, feeling as gullible as a schoolgirl.
“Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said.
“Goodbye, Mr. Alexander.”
Melanie nodded to the cab driver to load her bags, jumped into the backseat, and slammed the door shut. She fumbled through her purse, pretending to be absorbed, searching for something within. She didn’t raise her eyes until she felt the jerk of the car pulling away from the curb.
She risked a glance out the back window to see him jumping into another cab. The taxi pulled into traffic a few vehicles behind the one she was riding in. Her heart pounded. Was he following her? Had he followed her from South Carolina? Questions buzzed in her head like a nest of busy bees. The meeting on the plane had seemed innocent, like an everyday occurrence, but how could she be sure?
Suddenly, the whole world became possible suspects. Desperate loneliness fell over her, accompanied by a new level of fear she hadn’t experienced in her short career as a law enforcer. Melanie did not like the feeling at all.
Rebuke the enemy and press forward to victory!
Chapter 10
Before the driver pulled the car into the Chanter Hotel’s drop-off entrance, she checked the traffic. Stephen Alexander’s cab was nowhere in sight. She sighed with relief, disembarked, paid the fare, and smiled politely at the bellboy who rushed over to fetch her bags. He waited while she registered at the desk, took the key, and led the way to room 1407. Melanie tipped him, and he left. Finally, she was alone. The bed appeared soft and inviting, but sleep would have to wait.
After showering, she debated calling room service or heading for the hotel diner. Cozying up alone to watch a chick-flick won the debate. She ordered a salmon sandwich, Greek salad, a slice of banana-cream pie, and coffee. The evening was the peaceful escape she desperately needed before entering round two of her mission.
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