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Brandon went down the hallway, toward the sound of the vacuum. I assumed he was going to give me cover if someone heard me rustling at the front desk.
The monitor at the desk was small, and I had to search for a computer tower. I kept my eyes on the front of the spa, hoping no one came in.
I inserted the key. It didn’t beep or indicate I needed to do anything. Was I supposed to just wait? How would I know if it was done?
I checked the desk, where there were printouts and an appointment book like Brandon had said. I didn’t look too closely but used the phone to take pictures of everything. I flipped pages in the book, reading some of the names.
Mr. Smith was scheduled every day this week.
Ew.
I tried to scrub the image of Mr. Smith with a masseuse out of my head. It was gross, but that really didn’t prove anything.
I didn’t see a cash register, though I assumed everyone paid via credit card. No tip jars, either.
Where did Sam keep the cash he got from people? There didn’t appear to be a place to put it here, so Sam had to have pocketed it.
I couldn’t tell if the USB key was doing anything. I didn’t often use computers, but I knew copying over files sometimes could take a while. I was reluctant to pull it too soon if it was doing something.
The longer I stood still, the more sure I was that we were going to get caught. I was about to duck down and take the key out when I heard a bell.
I froze, glanced back toward where Brandon had disappeared. Where was he?
A middle-aged couple I didn’t recognize appeared beyond the glass doors. They met my eyes and smiled as they approached the entrance.
Uh-oh.
I smiled toothily and hoped they didn’t have an appointment.
They were uninteresting looking, in their midfifties and wearing casual slacks. He wore a polo, she had on a pastel flowered blouse.
He opened one door and poked his head in. “Are you open yet?”
I shook my head and cocked it toward the vacuum. “Still cleaning a bit. Not long.”
“We’re just taking a tour,” he said. “Can we come snoop around?”
“Sure,” I said and then grinned as prettily as I could. At least they bought that I worked here. I pointed to the opposite direction of the vacuuming and where Brandon had gone. “Start on that end. Just don’t open any closed doors, okay?” It seemed like a reasonable request. Someone else could kick them out. If a real employee came to kick them out, though, Brandon and I would have to get going before that happened.
The man gave me a thumbs-up, and they started down the hallway. There must have been open doors or other hallways, because I looked away to see if Brandon was coming back, and when I looked back, they were out of sight.
How big was this place? Too many places to disappear.
Once the couple was gone, I snapped up the USB, hoping I had done it right. If I hadn’t, we’d just have to come back later; we needed to get out of here now or risk getting caught.
Brandon returned, but before I could tell him anything, he grabbed my wrist and dragged me toward the door.
“Did you get caught?” I whispered.
He said nothing, but shot me a dead serious look.
We were in trouble. I just didn’t know why.
There was a slight tilt to his head as he went through the glass door, and I heard the tiniest of voices, Doyle’s, as he turned toward the stairs. I couldn’t hear his words, but I could sense the panic.
The elevator nearby dinged and the doors opened. Brandon ducked and practically threw me behind an arrangement of potted plants. There were two particularly large bushes we could get behind.
We ducked down together and I peeked out, trying to see who had emerged from the elevator.
A second later, Sam appeared, walking toward the spa. He looked a little different from how I remembered. His blond hair was brushed back and seemed shorter. He wore all black like the rest of the crew, and he held a little blue notebook in his hands. He had it open to a page, looking at it as he walked.
I was able to watch him as I peeked between the plants. Then I realized our backs were exposed to the stairs. If anyone came down the steps, they might spot us.
Brandon crouched, staying silent, but angled his body toward the elevators. I sensed he’d want us to go the minute we could.
I wasn’t so sure that was the best idea and wondered if we shouldn’t go in now, ask for a face mask or something. Maybe if we hung out all day at the spa, we’d see something interesting.
Sam went to the front desk. He tapped at the computer, but then focused on the appointment book I had taken pictures of earlier. He checked his blue book, and then the book on the desk. He wrote something in the bigger desk book, closed his notebook and put it in his pocket. He then turned, eyes wide, and headed in the direction I’d sent the couple down the hall.
Uh-oh. They might tell him some girl had told them it was okay to be there.
I turned to look at Brandon, to tell him we should get going before Sam came back.
Before I could even open my mouth, a hard strike landed on the back of my head. Pain bloomed as darkness spread over my eyes quickly.
A jolt burned my shoulder. I had one fleeting thought of worry for Brandon before I crumpled to the floor, consciousness slipping away.
Knocked
As I began to come to, a dark fog covered my eyes; everything was a blurry mess. Pain coursed through my head and along my back.
I was being carried, a dead weight in someone’s arms. Whoever it was was slow but kept moving.
My stomach lurched. I felt the urge to vomit, from the hit or the sudden panic, I couldn’t tell. But I knew I was going for a swim. Thrown overboard again.
Where had Brandon gone?
I gasped for air every time I could, knowing I might have to hold my breath for a while.
I was eased down onto a hard carpet.
A palm crossed my forehead. A voice, and then a kiss at my brow.
Or was it?
Suddenly I felt alone. Too quiet.
A couple of minutes or maybe an hour went by. Time seemed to just stop. I struggled to figure out what was wrong with me. What had happened? I tried to summon the energy to get myself to sit up, but my muscles refused to work. My cheek and lips pressed into the carpet fibers.
Whoever had dropped me had left and the room was silent except for my occasional rustling as I tried to lift my head and look around.
The familiar numb, electrified feeling took over most of my back and neck. Someone had hit me on the head and then zapped me.
I hated being tasered. Tasers are stupid. I was going to taser someone on their genitals when I found out who did this.
Light shifted above me, and I forced myself to open my eyes. I twisted my head, and ended up staring at too-bright fluorescent lights. I squeezed my lids closed again.
I realized there were voices; someone was saying something to me, but I couldn’t understand the words.
I blinked, trying to focus. I swallowed back a bit of bile that had rose into my throat. The more my brain started to come back together, the more my head hurt. Maybe being unconscious wasn’t so bad.
“Hey,” someone said from above me. “Wake up. Can you hear me?”
The voice was unfamiliar. Where was I? My head was exploding and my shoulder was burning and tingling, prickling under my skin.
When I tried to open my eyes again, the light was too bright. My stomach lurched. I rolled over and retched but there wasn’t anything in my gut. Saliva dropped from my lips as I dry-heaved.
A calm hand touched the back of my neck, another pulled my hair back for me.
“We need to get your head looked at,” someone said. “That might be a bad concussion.”
It wasn’t Brandon; that was my first thought as I suddenly remembered crouching with him behind the plants when I’d been hit. What had happened
to him?
Suddenly anxious to find out, I tried to get up, but a fresh wave of nausea washed over me.
“Easy,” the voice said, the gentle hands holding me still.
Once my stomach stopped trying to jump out of my body, I slowly sat up. My eyes started to clear.
Marc hovered close. His mismatched blue and green eyes were wide, intense. Dark eyebrows were scrunched together in worry.
