Calmly, I walked down the hallway. Shirley had taken an additional shift and was cleaning one of the rooms between mine and Clint’s. Her cart was in the hallway. I managed my breathing, though my adrenaline made my whole body want to move in fast motion.
Just a few more steps and I’d be home free. This first leg of my undercover investigation had been surprisingly easy.
As I reached the cart, someone called out from behind me. “Excuse me! Ma’am! Miss Cleaning Lady. You in the gray outfit!”
I didn’t have to turn. I knew whose voice that was. Lillian’s.
I stopped. Didn’t turn. Didn’t move. Didn’t dare speak.
“Ma’am?” Lillian repeated, only a few steps behind me. One glance at my face, and I’d be a goner.
My heart hammered away in my ears. How was I going to get out of this one? There was more at stake here than my reputation.
“Ma’am? Did you hear me? Do you speak English?”
She did not just say that, did she? I realized I couldn’t pretend like I didn’t hear her. I had to do something or I really would look suspicious.
“One minute!” I called, trying to disguise my voice. I ended up sounding Fran Drescher—a mix of nasal and New York. I hurried to the other side of the cart and ducked down before she could see my face. “How can I help you?”
“I need another towel.”
I pressed myself closer to the cart, remembering my last up close and personal experience with one all too well. “A towel, you said?”
“That’s right. A towel.”
I stared at everything in front of me and spotted a stack of fresh linens. I grabbed a bath-sized version and held it up, feeling a bit like I was raising a white flag. “Here you go!”
After a moment, I felt her take the towel.
“Okay . . . thanks,” she muttered.
“No problem.”
I heard footsteps padding away. I peered around the cart and watched her until she disappeared around the corner. I rocked back on my heels and let out the breath I held.
That had been close. Too close for my comfort.
I hurried to Clint’s door, swallowed hard, and knocked. As I waited, I slipped off the “Do Not Disturb” sign and stuck it in my pocket.
I wasn’t sure what I’d do if someone answered. Clint’s friends could be here, but since he hadn’t exactly introduced them around, I had a feeling they weren’t staying at Allendale. I couldn’t imagine there were very many other places to stay around here. Maybe they were camping.
Come to think of it, everyone else here was sharing a room with someone. Why wasn’t Clint, the one other person here who wasn’t a lawyer or rich?
No sounds escaped from the other side of the door. Just to be safe, I knocked once more. “Housekeeping!”
Still nothing. Carefully, I slid the key into the lock. When the light turned green, I twisted the handle, and stepped inside, searching for a sign someone was here.
My heart pounded in my ears as adrenaline heightened my senses.
I didn’t see anyone. I did see soda cans and potato chip wrappers all over the table and couch. Dirty socks stretched across the carpet. The shades were drawn and the entire room smelled musty and dirty.
Where did I even start?
This room only had one bedroom. I assumed that’s where all of Clint’s stuff would be. I slipped inside. I didn’t chance turning on the light. Instead, I pulled out a flashlight and shone it across his suitcase. I peered inside. I saw all the normal stuff—clothes, socks, shoes.
I opened a side compartment and saw pictures of him and Jackie together. I stared at one for a moment. There was something in their gaze that couldn’t be faked. These two had loved each other.
Then why did I suspect that Clint was somehow involved?
I went to his nightstand. A container of pain reliever stood there. A half-drunk bottle of water. A map of Allendale.
I picked the map up and stared at it a moment. There were a couple of odd markings on it, almost as if he’d plotted out some course. Interesting.
I opened the drawer and froze. What . . . ?
I picked up two plane tickets to . . . the Bahamas? The names on the tickets read “Clint Miller and Mona Tyler.” There were also three inhalers in the drawer. I was certain that Clint told the police Jackie had only brought one and that she’d left it.
Just then, the door to the suite opened.
I flinched at the sound and, in the process, my hand hit the bottle of pain reliever. Pills spilled all over the nightstand.
My heart raced. Someone was back. And I’d just clued them in to the fact that I was in the room.
I quickly put the tickets back into the drawer, quietly closed it, and begin brushing pills back into the bottle. I didn’t get them all, but I was out of time.
I looked around. The closet. I had to get there and now.
I slipped inside just as I heard the bedroom door open.
I could hardly breath as I crept toward some clothes hanging in the back. I had to get there, and I had to do it without making a sound.
This coming from the girl who had found herself upside down in a custodian’s cart.
A voice came from the other room. Clint’s. “Everything is still set? I’m doing the drop at three. Don’t mess it up this time.”
What did that mean? I couldn’t make sense of the conversation. Right now, I just had to concentrate on staying hidden.
If Clint found me here alone, I didn’t know what he’d do to me.
“Why are my pills all over the floor? You been in my room?” Clint asked.
The air escaped from my lungs. He knew someone had been in his room. Despite the mess he’d left, he’d noticed the one thing that hadn’t been out of place originally.
I held my breath and pressed myself into the wall, waiting for whatever would happen next.
Something sharp jabbed into my arm. What was that?
I shined my light and saw a pad of paper sticking out from behind the safe. I had to restrain myself from grabbing it. Instead, I waited.
“Let me grab my bag,” Clint muttered.
My pulse raced. His bag? Hopefully, it wasn’t the one I’d seen right by—
The closet door opened. The light flipped on.
Yep, the bag I’d seen right by the closet door.
I shoved myself deeper into the dark recesses in the back of the space, thrusting my face into a couple of flannel shirts. One of the shirts swayed back and forth at my movement. I grabbed it, trying to still the action.
From between the shirts, I could see Clint. He glanced my way and furrowed his eyebrows together. I didn’t have to be a mind reader to know that he was sensing something wasn’t right. Would he trust his gut and investigate? Or would he blow it off as stress and lack of sleep? I hoped it was the latter.
Don’t come closer. Don’t come closer. Don’t come closer.
He took a step closer.
I should have brought a weapon. A knife. A rolling pin. A bottle of cleaning spray. Anything!
Right now, he could kill me, dispose of my body, and no one would ever know.
Clint paused and pressed the phone harder into his ear. “Yeah, I’ve got the bag. I’ll see you soon.”
He slid the phone into his pocket and threw one last glance my way before grabbing the book bag, flinging it on his shoulder, and stepping from the closet.
Finally, I heard a door close. My heart counted each second as it passed. Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump.
I refused to move. What if this was all a set up? What if Clint was waiting for me on the other side of that door?
I was staying right here, for a few more minutes, at least.
I remembered the pad of paper I’d seen. Slowly, carefully, I pulled it out from behind the safe.
I clicked my flashlight on and stared at the paper there.
It was yellow legal paper with blue lines. I checked the torn piece at the top. It was jagged, especially on the
left side.
Just like the ransom note had been.
CHAPTER 20
I had to talk to Jackie’s mom. In order to do that, that meant I had to get out of this closet. I moved a few shirts aside and took a step toward the door. I’d take it nice and slow. If I was caught . . . well, I had no idea what I’d do.
I pushed the closet door open slowly. As the bedroom came into view, it appeared empty. Just to be sure, I checked behind the door. That’s where I’d hide if I were Clint.
My blood pounded in my ears as I slowly turned. I released my breath when I saw the space was empty.
I wasn’t clear yet, though. I still had to get out of this suite without being seen. I tiptoed toward the bedroom door, which was still open. I paused there and soaked in the living room area. I didn’t see anyone. I wasn’t going to wait around anymore to find out if I was correct or not.
I darted toward the front door, threw it open, and then transformed into Ms. Composed as I walked back toward my room. A man and woman walked down the hall toward me, chatting to themselves.
My throat went dry.
But, as they passed, they didn’t even glance at me.
I slipped into my room. I didn’t even have time to change. Instead, I grabbed the robe from my room, threw it over my outfit—I didn’t want to get Shirley in trouble—and ran up one flight of stairs to Carol’s room.
4561. Mrs. Harrington had told me the number yesterday on the elevator.
I pounded on the door with more force than necessary. A moment later, she pulled the door open. Her lips curled back in . . . repulsion?
“Gabby?”
“I need to talk to you.” I tried to catch my breath, but it came out in ragged gasps.
She blanched. “Are you wearing a robe? And a handkerchief?”
I pulled the collar of my robe closer. “It’s a long story.”
“Is everything okay?” Clint appeared behind Jackie’s mom. His gaze looked equally as perplexed when he saw me.
I took a step back and straightened. “I just had a question.”
“Well, go ahead. Spit it out.” Jackie’s mom stared at me, along with Clint.
My original question wasn’t going to work. I had to think of something else, and quick.
“What’s Jackie’s favorite meal?” I blurted.
They both stared at me another moment. Finally, Mrs. Harrington said, “Braised lamb chops with risotto.”
I nodded. “Okay, I’m going to make sure Jackie has some to eat this evening when she’s back with us. It just seems like something small I can do.”
“This evening?” Clint asked.
“I know you don’t want us to get involved, but I figure the kidnappers probably told you to drop off the money again today. That is what they want, right? If they hold up to their end of the bargain, Jackie will be back tonight. We want to celebrate.”
“I wish I could be as optimistic as you are,” Carol muttered.
“I’m sorry. I know this is hard for you.” I glanced up at Clint. “For both of you. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”
As I turned to walk away, I heard Jackie’s mom mutter, “What a strange girl.”
I glanced at the time. It was noon. That meant I had three hours until Clint dropped off the money and completed whatever scheme it was that he was planning.
I had to figure out exactly what I was going to do about this.
But first I had to change and meet Riley for lunch.
***
“You seem preoccupied.”
I jerked my head toward Riley. “What?”
“You seem preoccupied. Everything okay?”
I considered pouring out everything to him right then and there. But I couldn’t, and that was part of my problem. If I told him everything I knew, then I’d also be fessing up to all of my snooping. Instead, I shrugged. “Just thinking about the pool.” About how there was no way I’d be making it there today after all.
“Anyone talked to Clint since this morning?” Lane asked.
Headshakes went around the table. Somehow, we’d managed to snag a larger round table so all of Riley’s friends could sit together for this meal. I actually preferred the smaller seatings, but there was no way to gracefully get out of sitting with the rest of the gang.
“So, tell us about your job with the medical examiner, Gabby.” Derek looked at me. “I bet that’s really interesting, as long as dead people don’t creep you out.”
I forced a smile. Again, this just didn’t seem like the time to correct the facts as they were. So I drew on my knowledge that I’d obtained from my one month of working there. “It’s interesting what a dead person can tell you. Even in death, they can speak to you.”
It was true. It had been so exciting to work with the police and investigators in finding clues that would identify the person’s cause of death. There was nothing I found more satisfying than putting the bad guys behind bars.
Which was why I’d decided that after lunch I would call the police and share what I’d learned about Clint and the ransom note.
My throat felt dry as I thought about what I’d learned. With every passing moment, it seemed like time was slipping away. The police had to know what was going on, and now. How could I be eating at a time like this?
I stood and placed my napkin in my chair. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to run to the restroom.”
I slipped out of the dining hall and kept walking until I reached the library. I stepped inside. No one else was here.
Quickly, I dialed the number to the police station and asked to speak with the officer who’d been here earlier.
“Officer Sharples, this is Gabby St. Claire. We spoke at Allendale earlier. I have an anonymous tip for you.”
“But you just told me who you were.”
I narrowed my eyes, getting annoyed again. “I know that. I just don’t want anyone besides you to know whom the tip is from. Is it a deal?”
“I suppose.”
“I think Clint is behind the disappearance of his girlfriend. I think he wants the money. He has two plane tickets to the Bahamas for the end of this week. His other ticket is for another woman. I’m pretty sure you’ll find the paper used to write the ransom note in the closet of his room.”
“How do you know all of this?”
“I have my sources. Oh, and he plans to drop off the ransom money somewhere at three today. I don’t know where, though. I suspect his friends are supposed to be the ones who grab it.”
He paused. “Why should I trust you?”
“If you Google my name, you’ll see I have some credentials. But please don’t waste time doing that now. I’m afraid Jackie will be hurt.”
He was silent for another moment. “I’ll look into it.”
“Thank you.”
I hung up and joined Riley’s friends again. Now I’d just wait. I’d done my duty. I turned it over to the police and relinquished myself of any more investigating.
My conscience could be clear.
***
I dropped the maid uniform and key back off with Shirley and was walking to my room when someone called my name from behind.
I pivoted and glanced behind me. Jackie’s mom. She wrung her hands together and her eyebrows formed a V on her forehead. The poor lady. I couldn’t even imagine.
I paused and nodded toward my door. “Let’s go inside.”
She caught up with me as I slid my card into the slot. Tension stretched through her voice. “What was that about up there earlier?”
“I didn’t know Clint was there. I didn’t want him to hear,” I whispered.
My door made that gentle buzzing sound to let me know my card had worked. I twisted the handle and pushed it open. Jackie’s mom followed me inside.
With the door locked, and Jackie’s mom staring at me like a lunatic, I began to pace. Just like any good lunatic would.
Mrs. Harrington’s hands twisted together, ever so subtly. She didn’t bother to
sit or to even move for that matter. She just stood there by the door, staring at me, her only sign of anxiety those fingers that rubbed together. “Why didn’t you want Clint to hear?”
“Can we sit down?” I walked toward the couch and hoped she’d follow. She did. I sat on one end, and she sat on the other. I wished I had something to offer her to drink, but I had nothing but a half empty bottle of Mountain Dew. “Tell me about Clint.”
Jackie’s mom shrugged, her face vacant in a way that only grief and stress could be responsible for. Even her voice lacked a lot of emotion. It simply sounded raw from too many hours crying. “What about him? I certainly don’t think he’s good enough for my daughter, nor do I feel he’s equipped to handle the family’s money. Jackie’s our only daughter. The estate will go to her when I’m gone one day.”
“Did you tell Clint that?”
“In so many words, I suppose.”
“Do you think your daughter loves him?”
Her fuchsia-colored lips twisted into a frown. “Yes, I do think she loves him. But I think there’s more to love than feelings of infatuation. You have to take a multitude of things into consideration, and I don’t think she realized that.”
Riley and I had talked about that a lot, how we couldn’t base our relationship just on our emotions or our attraction to each other. Truth be told, I would have probably never thought about it had Riley not brought it up. My past dating record proved it. “How about Clint? Do you think he loves your daughter?”
Mrs. Harrington’s eyebrows twitched. “What are you getting at?”
“I’m still trying to put all of the pieces together. I know the questions may not make sense, but I have to ask them.” I swallowed, softening my gaze when I saw a touch of moisture in the woman’s eyes. “Do you think he loves her?”
She nodded curtly, quickly, but her neck muscles looked strained. “He certainly appears to.”
I shifted in my seat, trying to put everything together in my mind, all the while attempting to figure out the best way to approach this whole situation without sending her grief over the edge. “Do you know where Clint is taking the money?”
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