Page 29

If Alex had made it around the half-marathon course without dying—or worse, fucking up his knee again—he might appreciate a session in the Jacuzzi, though he would of course deny he enjoyed such things.And when I’d sent Brett—Blackwood’s senior pilot—to pick up Nate, he’d suggested that we might want to fly from Medford rather than Portland when he came back.It was an hour closer to Baldwin’s Shore, and also nearer to California, which was bail-jumper-bro’s final destination.
“Room 213 is also free?It’s on a different floor, but…”
“We’ll take it.And while you’re looking things up, could you tell me if Leona Curran is still here?I borrowed a paperback from her, and I forgot to return it.”
“Leona?She’s teaching the lunchtime yoga class, but she’ll be finished in fifteen minutes.”
Huh?Leona worked here?And she was teaching a class?If that was true, she couldn’t be getting wheeled into the emergency room right about now.Had our victim stolen her credit card?There was only one way to find out.
“Which way is the yoga studio?”
“Through that door over there.Just keep going until you reach the end of the hallway.”
While we waited for Leona’s class to finish, I texted Alex.The fact that he responded straight away suggested either he’d sprinted the marathon course and was now relaxing at the finish, or he was ambling around with all the time in the world to check his messages.I knew which option my money was on.
Alex: I’ll take a cab.This doesn’t excuse you from tomorrow’s training session.
Oh, hurrah.
A dozen women in pastel sportswear exited the studio, chatting and laughing amongst themselves.They all carried rolled-up yoga mats, and most had matching water bottles too.When only one person remained, I walked through the door with Hallie.
“Leona Curran?”
“Yes?Are you looking for a class?I’ll be teaching Pilates at four.”
Well, whoever not-Leona-in-the-woods was, she hadn’t been targeted in a case of mistaken identity.Leona was an athletic Black girl with an ass to die for and amazing bone structure.Not-Leona was a petite redhead who might have been pretty, but it had been hard to tell under all the blood and bruises.
“No, we’re not looking for a class.Did you lose a wallet recently?Have a purse stolen?”
Her face creased into a frown.“No?Why?”
“Where’s your credit card right now?”
“In my room.Are you the police?”
“No, we’re on vacation, but we found your credit card in the forest behind Main Street this morning.”
“Really?You’re sure it was mine?But that would mean…” Leona gasped and covered her mouth with both hands.
“Somebody broke into your home?”
“I…I live here.Right here in the staff block.B-b-but…”
Fear flashed in her eyes, and she took off running.What could we do but follow?At a discreet distance, of course—this place had security on-site, good security for a hotel, and I didn’t particularly want either of us to get accosted.
One of the guards was stationed by the rear exit of the main building, and I gave him a wave as we passed at a rapid jog.
“Forgot my guidebook.”
The staff block was actually three blocks set in a horseshoe behind a row of trees in the south-east corner of the property.Each block was two low storeys, plain white stucco fronting onto a neatly mown lawn.There was none of the flashy planting that flowed through the rest of the grounds, but the area looked well-cared-for.Walkways ran along the front of each floor, six doors to each, twelve doors per block, thirty-six rooms in total.Leona headed for the block in the middle—bottom floor, second door from the right.
“Ottie?”she called.
Who the hell was Ottie?
And what had happened in her room?Hallie and I skidded to a halt in the doorway, and I took in the disarray.The room was more of a studio apartment, a generous double with a sitting area and a small kitchenette.And either Leona was shockingly bad at housekeeping, or it had been tossed.Systematically, comprehensively tossed.
She waded through the jumble of clothes and papers and broken crockery and flung open the bathroom door.
“Ottie?”No answer.“She’s gone!”