Shadow of Suspicion

by Christy Barritt

  Even if she couldn’t get away, maybe Mark would hear her outside and realize something was wrong.

  But it was no use. The intruder had been careful. He’d been quiet and methodical and moved like a well-trained soldier.

  Even as she fought back, hardly a sound escaped. There was nothing around to grab or to kick. Nothing but empty space.

  Focus, Laney. Focus.

  The man wore a black mask, and her room was dark. She couldn’t make out anything about him. He said nothing, just stared at her with lifeless black eyes, waiting patiently for her to stop thrashing about.

  Panic surged and then surged again. What was he going to do to her? Why was he here? Who was he?

  The questions raced through her, each one more urgent than the last.

  Finally, she stopped struggling, realizing she needed to reserve her energy for whatever would happen next. Maybe he’d talk to her and voice his threat or ultimatum. There was no way she could overpower him, so maybe she could reason with him.

  She was just trying to convince herself of things that would never happen, she realized. She was offering herself platitudes in an effort to survive.

  Please, Lord. Please. I need You now, more than ever. Help me!

  “Good girl,” the man whispered. “Cooperation will make this easier.”

  She flinched, his tone making her blood go cold. Something snapped inside her at his implication that she was already defeated.

  No! She couldn’t cooperate. Never!

  Her resolution gave her a second wind. She threw her shoulders back and attempted to kick her legs. She’d fight to the end. She had no other choice.

  “Calm down,” he whispered. “We wouldn’t want anyone to hear.”

  She wished she could speak. To plead for her life. To call for help. But his hand remained pressed against her mouth so tightly that her teeth ached.

  Finally, he spoke again. “These accusations against you have taken a toll, haven’t they? It’s all starting to get to you.”

  She remained frozen and still. What was he getting at? Was this another community member who wanted to take justice into his own hands? Was this an enemy of her husband’s coming after her? Could this be the man who’d taken Sarah?

  Nothing made sense.

  “Everyone will understand how the pressure got to you,” he continued. “It would get to anyone.”

  Laney’s heart ratcheted even more. Something bad was about to happen. She was sure of it.

  Her body tightened in anticipation. How would she get out of this? If only she had a gun. If she had something to defend herself. But she didn’t. She felt helpless.

  The man reached into his pocket and fiddled with something before bringing his hand up near her face. “Open wide.”

  Before she could grasp what he was doing, he shoved something in her mouth.

  Pills, she realized.

  His other hand came down on top of her lips. She faught against him, struggled to stop herself from consuming whatever he’d forced into her mouth.

  “Be a good girl. Swallow.”

  She rocked her head back and forth, determined not to give in. What kind of pills had they been? They were already starting to dissolve in her mouth, leaving a bitter taste on her tongue.

  These pills would kill her, she realized. It would look like a suicide. Like she’d given into internal pressure. That was the man’s plan.

  She couldn’t let that happen.

  He pressed harder on her mouth. Shook her. Tilted her head.

  “We can do this the easy or the hard way,” he whispered.

  She shook her head again, determined to let him know that she’d never cooperate. Never.

  Just then, he motioned across the room. Another man appeared from the shadows.

  Sweat broke out across her forehead. This had all been planned. All of it.

  The man brought a bottle of water. Before she could stop him, the first man moved his hand, grabbed the bottle and began pouring the liquid into her mouth. She swallowed, unable to fight the urge any longer.

  She coughed and sputtered, nearly drowning from the water. Unable to breathe. Certain she was going to choke.

  No!

  “Good girl,” the first man soothed, satisfaction in his voice.

  He placed his hand over her mouth again, keeping her quiet. Keeping her immobile. Waiting for the effects to begin.

  “Now I just have to wait for this to kick in. It will only take a few minutes. Then all your troubles will be over.”

  No. It couldn’t end like this. But how could she right the situation? She couldn’t—not with the man standing over her.

  A cry rose in her chest. In a few minutes, she could meet her maker. She didn’t feel ready for that. Not yet. She still had more work to do there.

  Behind her, a knock sounded at the door. “Laney? It’s me. Mark. Sorry to bother you, but I have a question that can’t wait.”

  She froze. Mark. Mark could help her.

  Please, give him the foresight to know I’m in trouble.

  The man on top of her froze also. He glanced at his friend, some kind of silent communication happening between them.

  Quickly, Mark. Think quickly.

  She was already feeling drowsy. Otherworldly. Like she wasn’t herself.

  The medication was now taking effect. Soon, she’d lose consciousness. With this man hovering over her, she couldn’t even force herself to vomit and purge the drug from her system. She was at his mercy.

  Mark knocked again.

  She held her breath, waiting for the men to react. Would they flee? That would give her the chance to try and save herself at least.

  Her eyes felt droopy. Heavy.

  No!

  “Laney, are you there? Could you open up, just for a minute?”

  Just as a last speck of hope ignited in her, her body went limp and she lost consciousness. It was too late.

  * * *

  Worry ricocheted through Mark. Why wasn’t Laney answering? Sure, they weren’t friends. She had no obligation to him. She could even be in the shower.

  But none of those things felt right. Something was wrong. He felt certain of it. It was too quiet on the other side of that door. He’d only left her five minutes ago.

  As he reached the lobby doors he’d gotten a phone call about her computer. Their tech guy said it looked too clean, like she’d erased any personal information. He wanted to ask Laney about that himself. He had to admit that the idea of seeing her again intrigued him.

  At least, it had initially. Now all he felt was concern.

  Making a quick judgment call, he rammed his shoulder into the door. It didn’t budge. He backed up farther, built up as much momentum as he could, and rammed into the door again. This time the door frame cracked. One more time should do it. He repeated his previous actions and the door opened.

  He hurried inside. Laney was lying on the floor. Pills were scattered around her head, her hand. A bottle of water spilled onto the floor beside her.

  She’d tried to kill herself.

  He knelt beside her and slapped her cheeks. “Laney, can you hear me? Laney?”

  She was unresponsive.

  Dear Lord, help her. Please!

  Quickly, he called for backup. She needed medical attention. Now. Three minutes ago.

  With support on the way, he dropped his phone and carried Laney into the bathroom. He turned on the cold water and placed her under the spray of the shower.

  “Wake up, Laney. Wake up.”

  She moaned, and hope surged in him. Maybe there was a chance.

  How could she have done this? They’d just talked. She’d seemed sad, but not desperate. He’d never guessed that this might happen. Maybe he
should have stayed with her longer, tried to monitor her more closely.

  Did this indicate her guilt? Could she not take the pressure anymore?

  “Laney, can you hear me?” he asked as cold water pounded her face, as it dampened the sleeves of his button-down shirt.

  She shifted back and forth as if fighting with herself before moaning again.

  “Laney, this isn’t the answer. Don’t stop fighting,” he urged her.

  “Men...” she muttered.

  He stiffened. “Men what?”

  “Hotel...” She opened her eyes for long enough to glance at the door.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Her eyes closed again.

  Before she could say anything else, the doors burst open. The paramedics were there. They shoved him out of the way and began working on her. As they did, Mark stepped back and let them do their job, knowing they were far more capable than he was.

  In the blink of an eye, they wheeled her out the door. He wanted to go with her, but he knew his time was better served here investigating. He prayed she would be okay.

  “Jamie, keep an eye on her,” Mark ordered one of the officers. “Don’t let her out of your sight. Do you understand? No matter what happens.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  As they walked away, Mark paced the room.

  Men. Hotel.

  What was Laney talking about? Had someone done this to her? But how? He’d burst into the room and hadn’t seen anyone.

  His gaze traveled across the space. There was another door there, one that connected to an adjoining room. He walked over and twisted the lock. It didn’t budge.

  Had someone escaped that way?

  He squatted down to better examine the floor. There was an impression of a footprint there. On the deep blue carpet. A large footprint. A man’s.

  Paramedics? No. They hadn’t come that far into the room. He felt certain.

  It was near the second door.

  His heart rate surged.

  Had someone else been in there? He needed to find out. Because if someone had just tried to kill Laney, then this whole case would be turned upside down.

  He rushed downstairs and, several minutes later, he was set up in a back room with full access to video footage from the hotel.

  He stared at the computer screen, fast-forwarding and rewinding several recordings. The images didn’t cover every single space in the hallway—there were blind spots—but the angles did show most of the floor where Laney’s room had been.

  He leaned forward in the plush leather chair of the hotel manager’s office. The TV in front of him recorded images from the many, many cameras situated throughout the establishment.

  The manager had helped him to find the right locations and time, and then he’d left Mark to review the images on his own.

  He played and replayed the same footage over and over, looking for answers. Determined not to miss anything. Studying each clip detail by detail.

  He watched himself drop Laney off at her room. Walk away. And then there was nothing. No one.

  If only he’d known then what he knew now. If only he’d been able to anticipate that someone else was in the room. If only he’d insisted on checking things out, of thinking of Laney as a victim instead of a suspect.

  Something tugged at his subconscious and he straightened.

  He stared down at the time stamp at the bottom of the footage.

  Wait a minute.

  He rewound the video again.

  Part of it had been erased! The time jumped from 12:12 to 12:24.

  What exactly is going on here?

  He watched it several times, just to be certain. This tape had definitely been altered. He didn’t know how. He didn’t know by whom. But there was more at play here than met the eye.

  “Excuse me,” he called to the hotel manager. “Could you tell me who’s checked into the room next to 301?”

  “Yes, sir.” The man hurried back into the room and typed away on his computer before mumbling something underneath his breath. “It says here his name is John Smith.”

  “John Smith? I need the rest of his information. Starting with when he checked in.”

  “He checked in about an hour after Ms. Ryan did.”

  Wasn’t that interesting? A coincidence? Mark didn’t think so. Someone was targeting Laney.

  “I need these videos for our specialists to analyze—and for evidence. I also need you to pull up any footage on him from the time he checked in.”

  “No problem.”

  “Has anyone else had access to the security room or tapes this evening?”

  He shook his head. “No, no one but me and I’ve been working the front desk all night.”

  Mark stood, feeling more determined than ever. “I need to go check out the room now.”

  “Here’s a key card.”

  Without wasting any more time, Mark hurried upstairs. The crime scene unit was still pulling evidence from Laney’s room. He grabbed two officers to help him before bursting into the room next door.

  It was empty. And it was like no one had ever been there.

  Except for more footprints.

  He knelt on the floor next to the adjoining door. Footprints that matched the one from Laney’s room.

  He needed to get the CSIs in there, as well.

  And then he had to get to the hospital and check on Laney. He prayed with everything inside him that she was okay.

  SEVEN

  Laney heard someone calling her name and opened her eyes from a sluggish, drug-enhanced daze. How long had she been out? An hour? Two? She had no idea.

  Her mind felt foggy and her thoughts uncertain. Where was she? How had she gotten there?

  She flinched as memories began hitting her.

  The hotel room. The men who were there. The drugs.

  She’d almost died.

  Tears pressed at the corners of her eyes as panic tried to seize her. No, she was okay now. She was in the hospital.

  A new set of memories and emotions hit, each one still fuzzy, almost like a dream instead of reality.

  Medical procedures. Pain. Desperation.

  Then peace. Healing. Restoration.

  If Mark hadn’t come back to the hotel room when he had, she would be dead right now. The cleaning crew would have found her in the morning and assumed she’d taken her own life. And the deadly plan against her would have been carried to completion.

  Someone said her name again, and she pulled her eyes open, coming back to reality. Slowly, Mark’s face came into view. His once barely there beard now filled out his cheeks and chin. His hair—which was short and no-frills—still looked fresh.

  Seeing him caused heat to rise on her cheeks.

  She was attracted to him, she realized. She had to nip that in the bud. Now.

  The concerned look in his eyes didn’t make her decision any easier, though.

  “How are you, Laney?”

  “Someone...tried to...kill me,” she whispered, her throat sore. Now he had to believe her that she was being set up.

  “I know.”

  She blinked. Had she heard him correctly? “You do?”

  He nodded. “He got in and out through the room connected to yours.” He leaned closer. “Laney, do you remember anything about the man who did this to you?”

  She coughed, wishing she felt like herself. Wishing her brain still didn’t feel fuzzy. Wishing none of this had transpired.

  “Do you need some water?” Mark grabbed the glass beside her bed and held the straw to her lips. She tried to take it from him, but it was no use. Her arms weren’t cooperating. When would this medication wear off?

  “I’ve got it,” he said.
>
  For a moment, she felt self-conscious. It was such a simple act, yet somehow it felt intimate, like something that should be reserved for loved ones. Despite that, her throat was desperate for moisture, so she took a sip.

  As the liquid refreshed her, she had a spurt of renewed energy. “The man...he was waiting in the shadows. He tackled me. Forced the pills into my mouth.”

  “You said men when I found you. Why?”

  “There were two of them. One was almost trying to remain hidden. But when I wouldn’t swallow the pills, he came out and helped.”

  “Did you notice anything about them?”

  Flashbacks hit her at full force, each once causing her to blanch, to flinch, to want to run away, to retreat from the terrible thoughts. If only that were possible. “They wore masks. Were covered in black from head to toe.”

  “Is there anything you could remember? What did their voices sound like?”

  She thought back before shrugging. “I almost thought one of them had an accent. He whispered. Very softly. I could hardly hear him. And I couldn’t tell you what kind of accent it was, only that it was slight.”

  “What about size?”

  She shrugged again. “About average. But he was strong. I couldn’t fight him.”

  “Any mannerisms or anything else that stood out?”

  “No, I wish there were. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. You’re doing fine. We checked the security footage, but someone erased it.”

  Erased it? Had she heard him correctly? The kind of knowledge and skills it would take someone to do that...

  “What is it?” Mark leaned closer, looking entirely too fresh and composed after being up all night.

  She was sure she must look like a wreck. Her hair felt stringy. The hospital gown was unflattering, to say the least. Not that any of that mattered. She wasn’t trying to impress him. All she was focusing on right now was survival.

  She pushed a hair behind her ear. “I’m a computer scientist. I do stuff like this for a living. It would take extensive knowledge to be able to hack into the hotel’s security footage and erase it, especially so quickly after it happened.” She blinked. “How long has it been?”