"Yes, of course," Roger Baxter replied.
"I'd like to see what the cameras caught," Ian said. "I'm attending the conference, and I know quite a few people. I might recognize someone who doesn't belong on this floor or near my door."
Baxter nodded. "I'll take a look at the footage first. I can't show you anything that might compromise someone else's privacy, but let me see if I can isolate activity around your door. That will take a few minutes."
"I've also contacted the police," the hotel manager said. "They should be here soon. I can assure you that we will do everything we can to catch whoever broke in here."
"Is anything missing?" Baxter asked.
"I don’t think so," he said. "The laptop is here, and I have my phone. I didn't have much else with me but clothes."
"You mentioned you're part of the conference," Baxter said, giving him a speculative look. "Do you have any proprietary information that might be of interest to one of the other attendees?"
"I don't think it's about that, but no. I'm very careful about where I keep such information, and it would be most likely that someone would take my laptop if they were looking for that, wouldn't it?"
Baxter nodded. "True. I'll go downstairs to check the video footage. There's no sign of forced entry, so it appears someone used a key."
At Baxter's words, his mind went back to Brenna. Had he left a spare key lying on the dresser? He couldn't remember now how many keys he'd had in the small envelope when he'd checked in. Could she have taken it?
But he couldn't imagine Brenna doing something like this. She was a respected scientist. She was smart as hell. She wouldn't let herself get used in any way. Still, he couldn't quite get rid of the niggling doubt. He'd definitely thought she'd had a hidden agenda for coming to his room. Now he had even more questions about her visit.
A moment later, a police officer arrived. He asked more questions, looked around, took some photographs and then accompanied Mr. Baxter down to security.
"The hotel will, of course, comp you another room," the hotel manager told him. "And we can send housekeeping in to help you clean up."
"I don't need housekeeping, but I will take another room," he said.
"If you'd like to come downstairs, I can get you a new room and a new set of keys."
"Sure," he said, as he and Grace followed the manager down to the front desk.
They'd just gotten a new set of keys when Roger Baxter came out of the back room. Judging by the grim set of his mouth, the videos had not revealed anything he wanted to see.
"The cameras in the elevator bank and your floor were off-line for two minutes around 4:05 and three minutes at 4:22," Baxter said. "At the time, we assumed it was a glitch. We've had some trouble from the weather in recent days."
"But it wasn't a glitch," he said. "Whoever broke into my room knew how to get into your camera system and hide their tracks."
"That would take a very skilled hacker," Baxter said.
"Or any number of people at this conference," he returned.
"Do you have any enemies? Anyone who would want to do you harm or just shake you up?"
"No, not that I'm aware of."
"We'll talk to housekeeping to see if they saw anyone near your room," Baxter said.
"You'll now be in one of our penthouse suites," the hotel manager added, handing him two new keys. "Room 3604. Do you need help moving your belongings?"
"No, I've got it."
"Please feel free to order room service or any other amenities that you need. It's on the house."
"We'll let you know if we find any other information," Baxter added.
He didn't have much hope of that happening, but he simply nodded. Then he and Grace went back upstairs to his room.
"It's kind of a coincidence that the security cameras in this hotel were disabled the way the ones were at the university where my dad was attacked," Grace commented.
"I had the same thought. We're not dealing with a random thug." He picked up his suitcase and put it on the bed. The lining was ripped out, but it would still hold his clothes. He started grabbing items off the floor and the bed and shoving them into the suitcase.
"Do you want help?" Grace asked.
"No. Luckily, I didn't bring much." Within minutes, he'd gathered his things together, and then they walked out of the room and took the elevator to the thirty-sixth floor.
"Wow," Grace said, as they walked into the penthouse suite which had a living room, kitchen, wet bar, and magnificent view of the lake. "This is amazing."
He couldn't really appreciate the luxury of the room, because his mind was still too caught up in what had happened.
Grace turned away from the window and came back to him. "I'm sorry, Ian."
"Why are you apologizing?"
"Because this has something to do with me and my father. You're unfortunately in the middle of it."
"That might be true, but it's not your fault, and I put myself in the middle when I agreed to deliver your package."
"You were doing him a favor. Last time you'll probably make that mistake."
He could see she was trying to lighten the mood, and he appreciated her effort. He walked over to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, happy to see it stocked with sodas, beer, and wine. "I could use a drink; how about you?"
"I wouldn't mind a glass of wine," she said, sliding onto a stool at the kitchen counter as he poured them each a glass. "I'm wondering what my house is going to look like when I go back."
"They were already at your house."
"We think they were; we don't know for sure."
He met her gaze. "You were sure when it happened, and I'm sure now."
"You're right. I'm really glad that I didn’t stay at the house last night, just in case they did come back, and I'm even happier that Tyler is safe with his grandparents and away from whatever this is."
He nodded in agreement. "I feel the same way."
"We need to figure out what's going on, Ian."
"We can dig more into your father's past on my computer, but before we do that, you need to open the puzzle box." He set down his wine. "Give me your car keys. I'll go downstairs and get your bag."
"I can do it."
"Of course you can do it, but you're not going to."
She grabbed her keys out of her purse and tossed them to him. "It's on the backseat."
"Got it. Bolt the door behind me."
Her gaze narrowed as she followed him to the door. "You don't think we're in danger, do you?"
"Until we know what we're dealing with, I'm not ruling anything out."
* * *
After Ian left, Grace walked back to kitchen area, grabbed her glass of wine and then took it over to the window, looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows and wondering what secrets were hidden in the dark night. However, it probably wasn't the night that contained mysterious shadows; it was her father, it was his life, a life she barely knew about.
Who was Seamus Donelan?
In her childhood, he'd been her hero, her idol, the man who loved showing her new things. He had been her first teacher, and if she were completely honest with herself, he'd inspired her love of education. But by the time she reached her teen years, that man had vanished. He was never at home. When he was at home, he and her mother were fighting. Five years of that had led to a bitter, angry, painful split. And then he had truly become invisible.
She'd changed her name, the deepest link to him that she had. She'd put him completely out of her life. Ten years had passed with few to no thoughts about him, except when some unwanted letter or package showed up on her doorstep.
Now, he was consuming her thoughts with questions. She felt guilty that she didn't know her father as well as she should. But then she felt angry, because he'd been responsible for the distance between them. He'd kept himself away from her; it was his fault they were estranged. That's what her mother had always said.
What if her mother was wrong? What if she'd chose
n her mom's side without really knowing the whole story, the complete truth? What if her father died before she ever had a chance to know him?
It could happen. She just really hoped it wouldn't. She sent up a silent prayer for his life.
Taking a sip of her wine, she walked over to the living room area and sat down on the couch. She took out her phone, surprised to see a message from Carrie. She was almost afraid to open it.
But the first few words soothed her soul.
Kevin is going to make it. Slow recovery. Could be months, but docs think he's stable now. Will call tomorrow. Mom says she's with Tyler. Thanks again, Grace. Love you!
She breathed out a breath of relief that Kevin would be all right, that he would one day make it home to be with his family, with his son. Tears pricked at her eyes, and she was still wiping them away when a knock came at the door.
She got up to answer it, checking the peephole to make sure it was Ian.
He gave her a sharp look as he entered. "What's happened? You're crying."
"Happy tears," she said with a sniff as she walked back to the couch and sat down. "Carrie just texted me. Kevin is stable. He's going to live."
Relief flooded Ian's eyes. He set her bag on the floor next to her and took a seat on the couch. "Looks like Tyler is going to get his Christmas wish. And he didn't even have to see Santa. Modern medicine wins again."
"It might not just be a win for science," she told him. "You don't know what made Kevin turn the corner."
"You're right. It could have been one of those miracles you love."
"It could have been," she echoed.
"Seriously, I'm glad it's good news. Maybe we're on a roll, and our luck is changing. Let's find out." He tipped his head toward her bag. "Time to open the box, Grace."
She groaned, then reached into the bag and pulled out the box with the Celtic knots on the top that had to be turned in just the right direction with the right sequence of moves.
She stared at it for a long moment. "I really don't know if I can remember how it goes."
"Just think for a minute. It will come back to you—if you let it."
"I know you think I'm being deliberately stubborn." She looked down at the box, then back at Ian. "Maybe I am. I wonder now why I sent everything back unopened. Why did I have to hate him so much? He didn't abuse me. He was a cheater and a liar, but he wasn't a monster. But I made him into one in my head."
"It sounds like your mother had a little something to do with that."
"She did. I think it was probably wrong, but it's hard to blame someone who's in a lot of pain."
"She has made a new life for herself, Grace. Maybe it's time for you to let some of the past go."
"I've been thinking that, too." She turned the box around in her hands. "You've made me think about a lot of things."
"Sometimes it takes an outsider to give you a new perspective."
She nodded and then put her fingers on the middle knot. It felt familiar, right…
"The last time I opened one of these, I was probably twelve," she said. "It was a hot summer night, and my father had just come back from one of his trips. My mom and sister were inside, but I was with him, because he and I liked to watch the stars. He'd tell me stories about the solar system. He seemed like the smartest man in the world."
"He is very smart."
"But his intelligence is not what I remember most about him—it's his humor, his smile, the way he looked at everything with a sense of wonder and curiosity. He'd ask me questions the way kids ask their parents, crazy things, like, 'Gracie, do you know why the sky is blue?'"
"I'd say it was blue, because God felt in a blue mood, and he'd laugh."
"That's not really what you thought, is it?" Ian asked.
"Of course not. He'd already told me a dozen times that molecules in the air scatter blue light from the sun." She smiled. "But he liked telling me again. That's why he'd ask me the questions, so he could give me the answers."
"You sound a little like you miss him," Ian said with a warm smile.
"I do, don't I? I don't really know why."
"Because the good memories are coming back, and that's okay."
"Maybe." She moved from the center knot to the left. She turned the raised knob of the knot to the left, then moved onto the next knot, jumping across, back and forth, until each of the dozen knots had been manipulated. Then she pressed on the center knot again, and to her surprise and delight, the lid popped open. "I did it. I actually did it."
"I knew you could. What's inside?"
She looked at the necklace cradled in a cushion of velvet. It was a small heart with an engraved inscription that read My Grace, My Heart. More tears came to her eyes. "It's the necklace he gave me when I turned sixteen. I left it at the house when we moved out. I didn't want anything from him then." She picked up the chain, her fingers curling around the silver heart. It felt cold, and in an odd way that coolness sent a chill down her spine. Would this be the last thing she ever got from her dad? Was it prophetic in a bad way?
"Is that all that's there?" Ian asked.
She nodded. "No big mystery revelation, just an old necklace."
"I guess he wanted you to have it."
"He wanted me to think about him, too, and he got what he wanted." She set the necklace back in the box. "This doesn't have anything to do with the break-in at my house or your hotel room."
"It's possible that someone thinks he sent you something, but he didn't. I actually would have been more surprised if the box had held something he'd stolen—a mysterious key or a coded formula."
"Why would you have been surprised?"
"Because he wouldn't have sent you something that would put you in danger. He loved you, Grace. I don't know anything else for sure, but I know that."
His words brought more tears to her eyes, and she dabbed them away with her fingers. "I don't know why I'm so emotional tonight. First the news about Kevin made me cry, and then the stupid necklace brought more tears, and now you saying things I really didn't think I wanted to hear, but somehow I did."
He gave her a sympathetic smile. "It's been a long few days, Grace."
"It has." She set the box on the table. "But the puzzle box didn't have the answers we were looking for."
"No. But it was a potential clue we had to eliminate. So, are you going to keep the necklace or send it back?"
"I'm not going to decide tonight." She drank the rest of her wine and handed him the glass. "More, please."
He smiled. "Coming right up."
As Ian went to get the bottle, she took off her boots and kicked her feet up on the coffee table. She knew she should probably go home, but her house, while only a few miles away, felt like it was just a little too far at this moment.
"I found some snacks, too," Ian said, bringing a plate of salami, cheese, and crackers back with her wine.
"Great," she said. "Our Chinese food seems like days ago."
"A lot has happened since then." He sat down next to her and said, "I think you should sleep here tonight, Grace."
His words made her choke on her cracker.
As she finished coughing, he added, "Not with me, just here."
She cleared her throat. "I know what you meant. The cracker just went down the wrong way. I really think I'll be fine at home."
"Why take a chance? You can have the bed. I'll sleep out here. I don't mind the couch."
"If I stay here, I will take the couch."
"Why should you?"
"Because I'm smaller; I'll fit better."
"It's not going to happen, Grace. You get the bed. I want you to be comfortable. You have to work tomorrow. I'm just going to workshops and listening to speeches, some of which might give me another chance for a nap."
"What?" she asked in mock astonishment. "You're saying some parts of science are boring?"
"More like the people giving the speeches need a shot of personality. There are a lot of unexciting people in my field."
"I'm shocked you would admit that."
"I don't usually see them all in one place."
As she settled back on the couch, she said, "Tell me about David. What's his story? Total party guy or is that a façade?"
"He does like to party, but he also has a serious side. In fact, the partying probably started as a cover-up and then became a habit. He's had some rough times."
"How so?"
"His father was a soldier. He served three tours and came back with a messed-up head when David was a freshman in college. David's mom ended up divorcing him. David tried to stay in touch with him, but he started gambling and whenever he got in touch with David, it was to ask for money. I met him a few times when David and I were living together, and I could see that he wasn't quite in his right mind."
"That's sad."
"It really was. But it got worse. Several years ago, David's dad committed suicide, and I'm sure David blamed himself."
"That's a terrible story. I had no idea."
"I know. David dove into work for a few months, but apparently that wasn't enough to make him feel better. So he quit his job, took his savings and started to travel. I've only exchanged a few texts with him over the last couple of years, usually to comment on some photo he'd sent me. I had no idea he was back at a full-time job until I saw him here at the conference. I felt guilty that I'd lost touch. I should have been a better friend."
"You can still do that."
"I'm going to try. He says things are good now. He's happy again."
"I'm glad. He seems nice."
"He is a good guy. Talks a little too much at times, and he loves to gossip. I learned early on not to tell him anything I didn't want to get around."
"Hang on a second." She sat up straight, giving Ian a sharp look. "Earlier tonight when we were in the bar, you told me we'd talk about what David had to say later. So, it's later…"
He frowned. "It was just a rumor, Grace."
"What was just a rumor?"
"David said he heard that your father was sleeping with Senator Connie Barrows and that her husband found out about it and was very angry."
His words were not anything she'd expected him to say. "What? You're saying that the husband went after my dad because of an affair?"
Closer To You (Callaways Book 11) Page 17
