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FIFTY-SEVEN

“Semiahmoo Resort, Roger Whiting speaking. How may I help you?”

“Turn the cameras off.” The voice is unmistakable.

Roger goes into his office and looks at the monitors. A man wearing a red ball cap with a black hoodie pulled over it is at the employee entrance behind the resort. He picks up the call in the office and says, “I’m not supposed to be talking to you. You promised to keep me out of this.”

“Turn the cameras off, Roger. I won’t tell you again. I just want to talk. You have nothing to worry about. I’ll stay on the line until you tell me they’re off.”

“Uh, okay.” Roger logs in to the surveillance system and turns it off. “It’s off. I can’t keep doing this or they will get suspicious.” No answer. “Are you there? Hello?”

“I’m right here.”

Roger turns and his voice fails him.

“I know you’ve been talking to the cops, Roger.”

Roger starts to protest but Thundercloud clamps a hand down on his shoulder and squeezes hard. “You gave Missy up, and they know I was living with her. They know I worked here. What else have you told them?”

Roger tries to pull away, but one hand covers his mouth and the other goes to his throat and shoves him backward into the desk.