Pierce
Iknow it’s wrong to leave the woman in such a bad spot.
I should have helped her more. My grandmother would kill me for not being more of a gentleman.
What else am I supposed to do? Thea Jane Meyers from Sacramento, California, is a grown woman, even if her survival instincts fall more into the toddler category.
She asked for help, and I gave it to her. Then she dismissed me. End of story.
I punctuate that thought with the poke of the elevator button.
I could come back tomorrow to check on her… No. That’s just weird. I should get her a key, though—
“Ahhhh!”
My spine turns to stone at the scream. The familiar scream.
I turn, sprinting back to Thea’s room. I swipe the key over the reader so fast it doesn’t register, and I have to do it again.
I shove the door open, racing to Thea who is stock still next to the bathroom door, looking at—
“Did you kill him?”
Thea looks at me, her eyes wide and frantic, her lips trembling, and her face ghostly white.
“Mark?”
“That’s not my name. And I’m quite curious if you actually gave me yours.” I look pointedly at the man on the ground. The very dead man.
“I didn’t—he’s not… he’s dead?” The last words come out as little more than a squeak as Thea staggers backward until she hits the wall. She covers her face with both hands as if that will make the body disappear.
I crouch beside the man, flipping him over to reveal a large pool of blood on the tan shag carpet. I check his pulse to be sure there’s nothing to be done for him.
“Do you know who this is?” I ask.
She peeks through her fingers at the man again, and her face somehow grows even paler. “I don’t know. I’ve never s-seen him before, but he’s in my room… and there’s so… much blood.”
And then she drops.
I’ve been praised for my quick reflexes, but somehow I miss the falling woman. She collapses like a pile of weights.
I curse.
So, she didn’t do it. That, or she’s a fantastic liar. I want to believe that option and leave her here and get the heck out, but I think she’s something far worse than guilty. She’s innocent. The most dangerous thing to be.
I check her still form. Her butt is up in the air, her face smashed into the questionable carpet.
There’s not much I can do for her at this point. She’ll come to soon. The man on the ground, however, will not.
I grab his arm. It’s still warm. I’m guessing he’s been dead about a half hour. The hotel is nearly a mile from the cafe where I met Thea, which means it would have barely given her enough time to kill this man then rush to the cafe.
Her scream, her fear… that was genuine.
If she’s not the killer, that means we just missed them. For better or worse. Who is he and why was he in Thea’s room?
I curse. I can’t leave her here now. I have to be sure she didn’t do this. I call Noah.
He answers on the second ring, and I beat him to the punch.
“Did you tell my grandfather where I am?” I hadn’t intended to start with the letter, but I need to know.
“Hello to you too, sunshine.”
“Noah.”
“No. I didn’t. You know he’s not the station chief anymore, right?”
“That’s never stopped him,” I mutter. He may not be in charge of the California division of the Central Intelligence Agency, but he still holds power with his private security firm. Still pulls strings. He uses his badge like it’s currency, something that can get him anywhere he wants to be.
“Is that why you called?” Noah asks.
“No,” I say, getting back to the problem currently decomposing on the floor. The dead body, not the woman. Now that I think about it, she has been there a while. I lean down until I’m sure I hear her breathing.
“Thea Jane Meyers from Sacramento, California,” I say. “I need a background check, stat.”
“Stat?” He chuckles. “You know I don’t work for you, right?”
“I’ve got a problem.” I snap a picture of the dead man’s face and send it.
The phone dings on his side, and then he mutters a curse. “Did you kill him?”
“I need to know if this woman did.”
“If you still worked for the agency, you could do this yourself.”
“Then I’d be in an even worse situation,” I grumble.
“What is the situation?”
“I’ll fill you in later. I need that information ASAP. And facial rec on the corpse as well.”
“Fine. I’ll do it. But next time you’re in town, I’m making you come out of your cave and socialize with the female population.”
“Hard pass.” I’ve only been back to town twice since I disappeared and only to get information from Noah.
“Someday you’re going to want to settle down with a woman.”
That day is not today.
“Just text me.” I hang up, then search the dead man’s pockets. There’s no identification.
I make quick work of the room, looking under the bed, around the body, in the trash for the murder weapon or an indication of why he was there.
Aside from the scattered contents of the suitcase, my search reveals nothing.
A robbery gone wrong? His nose is slightly swollen; he was hit recently.
By a partner, and the partner turned on him? An ominous sensation settles in my gut.
What if they specifically targeted Thea?