I turned the paper over in my hand. "I'm guessing it was supposed to be shredded. It's part of an itinerary for an airline." My ears were still burning, but I'd managed to regain some composure.
Matt moved to look over my shoulder. "Mind if I take a look?" he asked.
I handed him the paper and stood up, wanting some of the cooler air in the hall. As I did, I heard the sound of footsteps moving toward us.
Oh God! "Someone's coming," I hissed, my heart rate increasing from its normal seventy-something beats per minute to approximately a million beats per minute in less than a second. Okay, maybe I was exaggerating a bit. It was more like half a million beats per minute.
Sam quietly closed down the computer as Jake and Matt moved away from him. I turned to move from the room and came face to face with Wes. I let out a small scream.
"I can't find anything that could be a clue here," said Matt loudly. "There's definitely no Scotch. Maybe we should check the old house before this storm gets any closer," he added, looking at his watch. "I know there's a stash of bottles out there."
Matt pushed the paper into his jacket pocket as Sam stood and quietly pushed the chair back into place.
"What are you all doing in here?" asked Wes, looking surprised to see us there.
"Just looking for clues to tonight's mystery," added Sam, jovially.
"Well you shouldn't be looking in here," said Wes, his tone suggesting his annoyance. "This room's off-limits. I seriously thought you would have known that."
I felt the reprimand like a slap across the face. I didn't like disappointing people, and right now, I felt I had disappointed Wes.
"Sorry, Wes," I said, quietly. "We were just leaving."
"Good."
He watched as we all moved past him out of the room, and then he moved into it himself, quietly closing the door.
Matt watched him over his shoulder as we made our way down the hall. "What's he doing in there, would be my question," he whispered.
I didn't care. I just wanted to get out of there.
Lightning flashed brightly in the floor-to-ceiling glass walls as we made our way down the hall. As we passed the reception desk, Katie's group stood scratching their heads, looking confused.
"Where's Faith?" asked Jake, looking at Georgie for an answer.
"I left her in the toilet."
"Why?"
"What?"
"Why did you leave her? Aren't you women supposed to hold hands or something to go to the toilet?"
"Jake, that is so sexist!" she snapped.
"No, it's not. I've just never met a woman who would go to the toilet alone," he explained.
"Well, she was in the cubicle talking to someone on her phone when I finished my business, so I told her where I was going and left. She's probably still trying to get a good phone signal and hasn't even done what she needed to do yet."
"Who was she talking too?" asked Jake, a frown marring his perfect forehead.
"Well, it was really none of my business, but I thought she said 'Hi, Mum,' so my guess would be her mother."
"She doesn't have a mother. She died when Faith was a baby."
Georgie sighed. "Sorry, then I have no idea who she was talking to."
Jake's frown deepened. "Maybe I'll send her a message and tell her where to meet us," he said, looking at me.
Like I cared what he did.
Sam put his arm around Jake's shoulders and pulled him in close for a manly shoulder hug. "Jake, my friend," he said. "Take my advice. If a woman is annoyed at you, a text message isn't going to help. You need to kneel in front of her and beg for forgiveness."
"And flowers. Lots of flowers," added Matt.
Geez, where were these men when Jake dumped me.
Jake sighed and nodded his agreement. "Yeah, you're right. Even though I didn't do anything wrong."
"Of course you didn't!" said Sam, now slapping him on the back. "But that argument won't help when you're sleeping alone."
As we headed down the hall, leaving Katie's group behind, Sam turned to Matt. "What was on the piece of paper Alex found?"
Matt retrieved it from where he'd pushed it into his pocket. "Well, I didn't get a great look before, but it seems to be a flight itinerary for Bernie. He leaves late tonight." Matt frowned.
"Why the frown?" I asked.
"It just seems a bit odd, that's all."
"Really? Why? Anyone can take a holiday."
"It's a one-way ticket to France. If it were a holiday, he would have booked a return flight."
To be honest, what Bernie did was none of my business. Nor was it a priority. All I needed to be concerned about right now was leading my team to victory and hopefully avoiding a visit to the old house. Which was exactly where Matt was planning on taking us.
* * *
Do you ever wish you could rewind a moment in your life? I do. Actually, I wished I could rewind more than a moment. In fact, I reckon I'd have chosen about ten minutes. If I could do that, I would have gone back and made the boys come with me. Make our team stick together. That way I would not have been walking down a very creepy hall alone, in a building that seemed eerily quiet as night had descended during a storm that had moved in quickly.
But no, when I'd received the iMessage from an unknown sender advising me to—Meet under the stairs…immediately! I have a clue for you! Come alone!!!!—I'd decided that was exactly what I would do. And in my defense, I did need to use the ladies' and definitely didn't want the boys' help to do that. Plus, I figured this was much more efficient. They could continue to search for clues to solve the murder mystery while I answered the call of nature and kept to the terms set out by my secret snitch.
If I was heading for the correct set of stairs, I knew the area in question was filled with boxes, dust, and dirt. Seriously? Why couldn't we have met in the lunchroom? It was far nicer, and it had coffee. I sighed again, pulled my phone from my bag, and reread the message.
I left the boys to take their detour to the studio. They said they wanted to revisit the crime scene, but personally, I thought they wanted to revisit the bar. Once again, I thought how I should have made them come with me. Or stayed with them. The bar definitely seemed like the better option right now.
Jake had reverted to his original idea of groveling to Faith via text. Wasn't sure how successful that would be. Unless he could use iMessage like my unknown snitch had. Cell signal up here sucked. I never really understood why. Someone once told me it had something to do with the positioning of cell towers, but we were on the highest point in Westport, so you would have thought signal strength would have been amazing. Outside I guessed it was better, but inside these cement walls, signal strength was almost zero. Australia wasn't known for having the best service coverage, and I was with one of the smaller networks. Maybe if I'd gone with the major provider I could have gotten a better service, but who could afford them?
I glanced at the little signal bar on my phone and noticed it jumping from one bar to none as I walked along the hall. I sighed and pushed my phone into my jeans pocket.
As I continued toward my meeting place, I thought about this evening and the fake murder we'd been presented with. I was sure Matt was wishing he'd been picked for a different team.
I shivered at the memory of the fake blood pooling around Rachel as she'd lain on the floor, pretending to be dead. I hated blood—even when it was fake. If it had been left to me, her body probably wouldn't have been checked. I would have just followed one of the other groups around until we came up with an idea, but apparently that wasn't the way real detectives did it. Whoever thought I was anything like a real detective, though, was an idiot.
Thankfully, the toilets were on the way to the staircase, so it wouldn't delay my meeting too much.
Reaching my destination, I put my hand to the outer door and pushed it open. It led to a tiny area with two other doors leading off of it—one going to the ladies' toilets and one to the men's. I had my hand on the inner door to th
e ladies' before the outer one closed behind me. However, it caught my shoulder bag as it closed, which pulled me up short. I cursed as I was unexpectedly pulled backward. Damn it.
The door had closed on my bag, so I tugged at the shoulder strap to release it. As it ripped free, the contents spilled all over the floor.
Have I mentioned how much stuff I keep in my bag? You just never know when you're going to need something, right? And it's all very organized. Well it was. I looked at the floor and let out another curse.
"Shit!" I said more loudly than I actually should have.
I hoped no one was about to walk into the toilets, swinging the door open and hitting me in the head as I bent to retrieve everything.
It took me a bit longer than necessary as I tried to put everything back where it came from. I put my pen in the pen holder, my lip gloss in the side pocket for easy access, my car keys hung back on the little hook thing that mum gave me for Christmas last year—great invention. Have never lost my keys since.
I eventually gave up and pushed the rest of the contents in, thinking how I could sit and organize it again when we stopped for a meal break. Right now, I had a deadline to meet someone who was going to give me a clue. And we needed all the clues we could get.
I stood and pulled my bag back over my shoulder and pushed the inner door open. My intuition screamed at me. I really should have listened to my intuition because if I had, I would have picked up my bag, gone home, and snuggled up in bed with a good book. I would have preferred snuggling with a good man, but until an hour ago, I didn't even know Sam was sexy now. I mentally chastised myself for having inappropriate thoughts.
Entering the small room, memories poured out at me as I remembered how this had been our gathering spot for workplace gossip.
I looked around. Absolutely nothing had changed. There were still only two cubicles. Both had sickly green, laminate walls and ancient plumbing. The mirror above the sink was still cracked, and the lighting was still bad.
I checked the locks on the doors to make sure they weren't occupied. One of the cubicle doors swung open when I touched it, but the other remained closed. The lock said it was vacant, and I couldn't see any feet under the door. Jake's assessment of Faith finding a quiet corner to sulk had obviously been correct. Okay, sulk hadn't been his exact word, but it was what I figured he meant.
The lights flickered as the storm moved closer, causing the power to surge. I shivered and quickly moved to the cubicle that had swung open. The closed one felt just a little bit creepy.
I dropped my jeans to my ankles and squatted over the seat. There was no way any part of my tush was touching a public toilet.
As I was looking upward, willing my bladder to empty faster as my legs were starting to shake from the squat, I noticed one of the polystyrene ceiling tiles was askew, creating a space to see into the void beyond it. I hated things like that, as I always felt like someone was in there watching me.
I shivered and finished the task at hand. Pulling my jeans up, I hurriedly moved out of the toilet. As I did so, I bumped the laminated wall between the cubicles, and the door to the adjoining toilet creaked open.
Goose bumps broke out at the sound, but I ignored them and stepped up to the sink, hoping to get the hell out of there as quickly as possible. I turned the tap on to wash my hands and quickly checked my reflection in the mirror as I went. That was when I noticed someone was in the other toilet. I let out a small squeak and turned quickly.
My heart stopped, and my squeak turned into a blood-curdling scream.
My ex-boyfriend's brand new wife, Faith, was sitting on the toilet, her feet propped up against the toilet roll. Her head hung to one shoulder. Her eyes stared back at me blankly, and blood had gushed from a very large gash in her temple.
My stomach rolled as the smell of blood filled my nostrils, my vision blackened, and I passed out.
CHAPTER FOUR
I opened my eyes. I lay on the cold, hard, vinyl-covered floor. I moved to sit, my mind jumbled as to what had happened. I looked around me, my thoughts slowly coming together, and saw Faith, her position unnatural and the blood now soaking her scarf. I felt my stomach lurch as I remembered why I was lying there.
Pushing myself to a sitting position, I managed to get to the adjoining toilet before I threw up. Panic took over, and adrenaline kicked in, causing my body to shake, my face to get clammy, and ringing to start in my ears. I had to get control and calm down. I wasn't helping anyone in the state I was in.
I tried to take a deep breath and moved back to Faith. I was pretty sure she was dead, but I still thought I should check. I looked at the wound, and tears stung my eyes. She'd hit her head hard. And judging by her position on the toilet, I thought that hit hadn't been from a fall.
I moved closer to her, willing my stomach to stop heaving. I really didn't want to touch her, but I had to. Didn't I?
I watched for breathing, but tears caused my vision to blur. I looked back at the wound. Her blood had run down her neck where I had to check for her pulse. As the bile rose into my throat, I thought my knowledge of first aid was nil, so I couldn't perform CPR even if I needed to. No, all I could do for her was get help.
I stumbled out of the toilets and back into the hallway, running toward the studio. I needed to get help, to tell someone what had happened.
My lungs burned as I breathed deeply, the studio feeling much farther away than it actually was.
Reaching the door, I flung it open and ran inside, calling for help as I went.
Only no one was there. I scanned the room, hoping for a sign someone was around. I ran behind the news desk—no one. I ran behind the set. No one there either. I didn't know how long I'd been unconscious, but I did know that it couldn't have been that long because surely my teammates would have come looking for me.
I reached the spiral staircase behind the set and climbed up to the production booth positioned above, hoping that was where they were now. It was empty. I sank to the floor, shock setting in.
As I hugged my knees to my chest, I tried to slow my breathing and think clearly. I felt my phone dig into my hip, and I remembered that was where I had pushed it after rereading the message. Yes. I could call for help!
I stretched my leg and pulled it out, reading the message again. I'd actually forgotten I was supposed to be meeting someone. The stairs were only a few meters from the toilets, so why didn't I think to run there for help?
I hit my forehead with the palm of my hand as I pressed Georgie's number, silently praying she would answer and that she would bring help. After all, I was having a hard time stopping the shaking that seemed to have taken over my body. Thinking was obviously something I wasn't doing clearly.
I listened to the silence over the phone, waiting for it to connect, but soon realized that my signal strength was on zero. Bloody cement walls! I stood and lifted my phone in the air, waving it about as I paced the room, willing the little signal line to go up.
Come on. You can do it. You can do it.
No such luck. I spotted a phone on the desk, lifted the receiver, and, with shaking fingers, punched in Georgie's number.
I waited for the dial-tone beep as it attempted to connect with Georgie, but all I got was her message bank. Wherever she was in the station, she had no cell signal either. I didn't know any of the numbers for my teammates, and I didn't know Rachel's number. I'd had no reason to know. Now I wished I'd taken more notice of the invitation I'd received for tonight. It had Rachel's number written on the bottom of it. I could picture the invite very clearly in my mind, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't see the phone number.
Should I call triple zero? Surely this was an emergency? Last time I called them, they considered my problem not an emergency because I wasn't in any imminent danger. Well, Faith looked dead, so no ambulance could help her now. But a dead body suggested an emergency, didn't it?
I wasn't made for this kind of thing. I was a girl who lived in a happy world. I didn't
handle stress very well. And where the hell was everyone? I felt the panic take hold, wanting someone to take control of this for me. If only I could rewind time!
Tears spilled over my lashes again as I pressed the numbers on the keypad.
Thankfully, the door swung open behind me, and in walked Sam, his smiling, happy face warming my soul. I dropped the phone back into the cradle as Matt and Jake followed him in. Seeing Jake, my heart ached. How did I tell him what I just saw? Sure, he was the ex-boyfriend who had dumped me so unceremoniously, but he was still a person with feelings. And as much as I detested him for how he'd treated me, I didn't want to hurt him the way I was about to. I wouldn't want to do that to my worst enemy.
Seeing me, Sam dropped his news camera onto the desk and took hold of my shoulders. His blue eyes radiated concern.
"Alex, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice filled with urgency.
I fell forward into him as his strong arms surrounded me, and his warmth seeped into my skin. I took a moment to enjoy the feeling of safety, grateful for him for the first time in my life.
"It's…it's Faith. She…she's in the t…toilet…d…dead," I managed to say, almost hyperventilating. I saw Jake's face pale, and he turned and ran from the room.
"No! Jake!" I called to him, but he ignored me and continued on. "Someone stop him!" I screamed. "He can't go alone." I grabbed Sam's arms, panicked that Jake would find Faith the way I'd left her. "We need to stop him." Sam looked deep into my eyes and nodded.
"Okay. Come on," he said, taking my hand. "If we go down through the studio, we should be able to head him off."
I wiped my face with the back of my free hand as Sam pulled me along. Matt followed closely on our heels. I wanted to say he was about to get the story of his life, but Matt seemed like a really nice guy, and I knew that was an unfair assessment of him.
Sam held tight to my hand as we ran down the spiral staircase, through the studio, and into the hall that led back to the ladies' toilets. Thankfully, we beat Jake.
He was just running toward us as we stepped out of the studio. Matt grabbed his arm and slowed him down, whilst Sam ran ahead. We all stopped outside the toilet door, Jake trying desperately to get away from Matt.
Invitation to Murder Page 4
