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The lady trilled a laugh. “Oh gosh, no! And thank heavens for that. My name is Priscilla. I am Omar’s assistant, bookkeeper, and barista all in one.” She smiled, cheeks like rosy apples.
“I hope you make better coffee than what he was drinking last night,” Roman said.
Shay elbowed him in the abs; how hard those abs were didn’t escape her notice—as hard as they’d looked when she’d ogled them this morning. “I’m Shay. We’re staying in room number nine.”
“Oh, how lovely! You just came from the diner, didn’t you? We offer a light breakfast in the communal kitchen, if you’d prefer for next time. Muffins, croissants, coffee, tea. Free of charge.” She beamed.
“Thank you,” Shay said. “That sounds lovely.”
“How is your stay so far? Is your room comfortable?”
Roman said, “It’s a little warm, and there seems to be a pest I can’t get rid of.”
“The room is fine!” Shay fumed, her face flushing. Why couldn’t he have waited outside? “Actually, I was hoping to ask you a few questions.”
“Oh, I’d be happy to help!”
Shay took out the folded poster from the back pocket of her jean shorts and stepped up to the desk. She unfolded the paper, placed it on the wood, and flattened the creases. “Have you ever seen this woman before?” She spun it around to face Priscilla.
Priscilla put on her glasses and gingerly picked up the paper, peering down her nose through thick, rectangular lenses. “She’s that missing hellseher from Yveswich?”
“Yes. She’s my sister, and I have reason to believe she was staying here not too long ago.”
Priscilla nodded solemnly. “Indeed, she was. In room number three.”
Shay’s stomach twisted. “Who was she with? Did you get a good look at them?”
“I was here when they checked in. She was with three men—she stayed in the vehicle with the younger two while the older one came inside to book the room.”
Three men. Shay felt like she was going to hurl.
Roman said, “What name did they register the room under?”
“A ‘Samuel Spence’.” She tutted. “Fake name, if you ask me. Police came by a few days ago, asking the same thing.”
“Did they seem interested in anything in particular?” Shay pressed.
“Nothing really jumped out at me. You know how the police are with this sort of thing.”
Shay looked up at Roman, defeat sinking her shoulders. He didn’t look at her.
“Can you tell us anything else?” he asked Priscilla.
“When they checked out, they drove that way.” She pointed a wrinkled finger.
“Toward Angelthene?” Roman asked.
“Mm-hmm. But by then, this poor girl wasn’t with them anymore. Just the blue-haired one.”
Shay’s brow furrowed. “The blue-haired one?”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She gestured to her head—her forgetfulness. “There was a second female in the group. She had blue hair.”
Roman said, “I saw that chick on the news.”
“The wanted one?” Shay asked, glancing between Roman and Priscilla. Gods, Roman was tall—it hurt her neck to look at him.
“They say she’s trouble,” Priscilla said. “But before I forget, I wanted to say that the last I saw of this other poor girl, they were driving that way.” She pointed the opposite direction—toward the massive stretch of desert and dry, craggy hills. According to the maps Shay had studied, there wasn’t much out there.
