Chapter 19 Wren #3
As she slips into the bathroom, I consider opening up fully to her. I want to do the right thing and tell her the real reason I’m here at the hotel, but maybe if I want her to keep me, I should let it sink to a watery grave like the man who forced me here.
I tease her relentlessly on the short walk to her room, at how adorable she looks in my Taylor Swift t-shirts and turned-up shorts. The difference in our heights may be one of the cutest things I like about us, in my totally biased brain.
Long curls cascaded around her heart-shaped face, tamed with a hairbrush but still wild.
The memory of last night leaves my skin scorched; her taste addictingly sweet.
The thought of my tongue dancing down her center and slipping inside makes me semi-hard, but the feeling dies like a swift kick, as we turn the corner to see a splintered, open door. Her hotel room door.
“What the fuck?” She moves to storm forward but my hand snakes out, hauling her flat to my chest.
“I hope to heavens above that you weren't just about to go running in there.” I grit, adrenaline coursing through my body as I place both arms around her and tightly take a step back down the corridor.
There's a light buzz in my ears as I dryly swallow, Robin's body tense in my arms but I feel the small tremble go through her.
Keeping her flush to my body, I pull her around me, placing myself in front and keeping my hands on her waist as we both slowly step forward.
Like hell would I let her walk in there first. How had none of us heard anything? When was this done?
As we enter I force us both to still, my ears waiting to pick up any sound, but it’s clear that no one is here. The room is entirely trashed.
Dull light spills in from the barely drawn curtains, twisting the still air into a grey nightmare.
Pages torn from books, papers and clothes are scattered on every surface.
You can’t see the floor. I realise all her clothes are torn and cut too.
Scraps of fabric spilling from her suitcase and piled onto the bed.
Briefly letting go to bend down, I pick up one of the torn pages from a notebook and read drafting ideas for Robin’s novel. Looking around my feet, I see more edit notes, annotated pieces of novel pages; she must have brought her work with her here.
Crashing down onto her knees, her hands shake as they flutter over loose pages. “They’ve destroyed my entire work bag…” she whispers breathily, her head snapping back and forth from me to the mess.
Standing in a rush, she races across the room before I can reach out to stop her, hands diving into the suitcase she pulls the cut fabric apart in hunt of something.
Straightening, she next moves to the bed, pulling a satchel from underneath more cut fabric and her pillows have also been slashed, leaving a dusting of feathers.
“I think we need to find Detective Starling,” I say with a rock lodged in my throat. “This isn’t safe.”
Ignoring me, she digs into the bag, throwing it on the bed with an expression of disbelief that is morphing into anger. “It’s empty. I only brought my beginning drafts and notes to help me start the second book. Why would someone do this?”
“Roo, we really should leave and find everyone. This is serious.”
“What were they looking for?” She knows I can’t give her an answer and her voice cracks. Moving back the mountain of cut pillows, she pulls up the side of the mattress, exhaling a sigh which is shaky as she pulls out a pile of papers. It’s the suspect list we made. “They didn’t find these.”
“Good–grab them. We’re leaving now, Sweetheart. Grab anything you need because we’re not coming back here.” It probably wasn’t wise to remove anything from what—the crime scene? My patience is so thin and I’m close to throwing her over my shoulder and running caveman style.
“No, we’re not meant to touch anything. It’s basic policing.”
“But we’re not the police. Grab a t-shirt or some underwear that hasn't been destroyed.” I gesture around me, eyeing her suitcase and motioning for her to go look.
She makes zero indication of moving, so I sigh and do it for her.
The remaining items in the case have all been shredded, one pair of shorts appearing passable, until I realise someone ripped the front button off so they won’t fasten up. What fucker is that petty?
“W–Wren,” Robin’s jagged exhale has me finally snapping and I enter panic mode, turning around to see her hovering close to the vanity before the window. The glass is smashed, but in red thick lipstick someone has left a warning.
He’s lying!!!
I’ve never felt so compelled by my lizard brain before, until I hauled the barely five-foot woman out of that room and down the stairs shouting at the top of my lungs.
Stalking out of the dining room comes Detective Starling, accompanied by Cardinal and Merle; who stiffens at our approach.
He looks more disheveled than when I saw him less than an hour ago.
Cardinal wears a grey fitted sports t-shirt and shorts, his hair slick with either rain or fresh from a shower.
Did this guy ever take a break? The grand Yorkshire lands were flooding, and it appeared we were now solving a murder, but god forbid he missed his morning jog.
Still clutching the papers, Robin pins them to her chest tighter and my stupid mistake dawns on me.
I’ve run us straight to the detective with evidence we may be interfering with his case.
She tried to detach herself from me on the stairs, but now clings to my frame and pressed the papers between us, hopefully hiding the content from the three of them.
Both guys know about our endeavor, but considering Merle is now our top suspect, he definitely can’t see them.
“Someone’s trashed her room. Torn papers, cut up her clothing and smashed the mirror,” I say, needing to clear my throat and calm down a little. “They’ve left a message.”
“Are you joking?” Merle asks, his fists balling tight into his cotton trousers.
Cardinal moves first to our side, his full attention scanning over Robin which I hate. Could he not take his permanently moody aura and I don’t know, share that world of black with the rose bushes outside? I can look after her.
“Have you noticed anything missing? When did you return to your room?” Detective Starling steps further towards us into the lobby space.
His feet squeak against the marble floor which is scuffed with dirt, wet mud from his shoes joining the dry flakes trailed in from the front door.
He runs his fingers along his ugly mustache and I cringe, hands tensing up around her form that I still have clung to my body.
“I’m not sure, but my entire work stuff I brought is trashed.
All my edits and notes are ruined. Someone cut my clothes.
” She sucks in a breath, things suddenly seeming to dawn on her.
Adrenaline still roars in my blood; someone broke into her room, trashed her things, cut her clothes, invaded her privacy and for what?
Maybe for what we have protected between our chests.
“Fuck. Stay here, I’ll go take a look and start checking other rooms to see if they’ve been targeted too.
” Cardinal commands, Starling's back going rod straight at the authoritative tone, like he’s just met the bigger fish in the pond.
Stalking past he glares at the four of us before taking off up the staircase.
Scurrying past next, Starling shouts at him before he ascends up the stairs too. “Hey! I don’t know if you forgot buddy, but I’m the law enforcer! You better not walk into a potential crime scene involved in this investigation.”
“I swear both of them are monkeys. Probably pencil pushers on their first real case,” Merle seethed, tether finally snapped.
“I’m so tired. So fucking tired. This weekend was a disaster, we should have guests this week but all I have to go on is DC–ugh, whatever he is.
He changes his title every time he introduces himself to me.
Nightingale House isn’t going to be ready to launch for months after this mess. ”
Robin again pries her body slowly from mine, but this time she twists the papers from between us, moving them to her back so I finally let her down. She’s only in socks, and I nearly lift her back up to keep her from the muddy floor.
“Do you need us to help you with anything?” She asks and my heart nearly triples for her, because in a time of distress, she’s ready to lend anyone her dirty-socked efforts.
Sighing, he closes his eyes, one hand raised in a fist as he lightly hits the dining room doorframe with it.
When he reopens them, he looks remorseful.
“No, it’s fine. I’m going to go check the rooms as well.
If you don’t mind just having a look around downstairs, I’m sure it’s alright.
Afterwards, we’ll get everyone together.
Goldie has Bran locked in his room because he won’t calm down and I think it’s time we all left the hotel.
I don’t think they can legally keep us here. ”
She nods, remaining quiet but turning her body as he walks past both of us to head upstairs. Before she can say anything I put a finger to my lips and point in the direction of the kitchen, holding my arm out so I can keep her close as we move.
PULLING open the pantry door, it could house at least twenty bodies if we all were sandwiched in.
Every shelf is fully stocked; herbs and the scent of dry pasta hitting my nose, reminding me of a kitchen that sometimes was so full of life and fun.
Taking her tiny hand, I pull her in, touching the switch to the side of the door and closing it behind us.
The bulb swings casting flashes of shadows, but this may be the only place we won’t be overheard by another guest or either detective.
“What was with that Dr Jekyll impression? I’ve never seen Merle so infuriated and stressed. He was a mess.”