A laugh breaks free from her throat.
“Hear me out, okay. I’ll tell him I’m running to my room to grab a sweater to cover this.” I gesture to my stained dress. “Then, after a while, I’ll text again, saying I have to call my parents. That’ll buy you some time, because otherwise that man will come storming in here in the next five minutes. I’ll do what you ask, just don’t hurt me, please.”
“What’s in it for you? Why wouldn’t you want Jack to burst in and save the day?” She lifts her chin, arms folded, while she leans on the back of the single chair in the room, the pistol held firmly in her hand.
My shoulders lift with a heavy sigh. My usual MO won’t work on her. I’ll have to tell her the truth if I have any hope of getting her to take the bait. “Because it’ll crush him if I get hurt. He’ll blame himself.”
Another laugh spews out of her with a curse. “Freaking Hallmark stuff right there. What’s to say I won’t do something to get rid of you once I get what I want, anyway?”
“There’s a chance you’ll do that. But I’m hoping there’s a part of you that didn’t plan to kill Brandon, and you just gotdesperate, that some pretty sucky circumstances led you to this place. I don’t think you got here because of greed. There’s a desperation behind your actions…” I trail off when her eyes flare like I’ve hit the nail on the head.
“Whatever. Just…send the text. But do it so I can see, then give the phone back to me.”
I nod as she empties the contents of my purse onto the bed, pushing the phone into my hands. The floral comforter creases as I sit on the bed with Bonnie’s gun pressed into my neck, her eyes hard and accusing. A tremble shakes my hand, delaying the process of unlocking the phone.
“Today would be great,” she snips as I finally manage to navigate to the messaging app.
Willow:
Stain wouldn’t come out. Grabbing my gray sweater from my room to cover it. Be back soon.
The message goes through, and the phone is out of my hands within seconds as Bonnie snatches it up and shoves it into her back pocket.
“The backpack.” Her gun does the pointing once again, motioning around the room.
“Okay…but you know I don’t have that overpriced spearhead thing anymore, right? Jack gave it to his colleagues yesterday.”
“I’m aware.” She smirks.
I stand, reaching into the closet beside the bed.
Oh, Marigold.
I pick up the dusty yellow backpack, and Bonnie’s greedy hands are yanking it from my grasp before I’ve fully turned around.
Jack needs to show up in the next few minutes, becausewhatever she hopes to find, it isn’t in that bag. Hasty hands unclasp the buckles, and the wheels of a housekeeping cart squeak in the hallway while Bonnie kneels on the speckled carpet, turning the bag inside out. I grimace, hating the way Marigold is being treated. Yes, it’s just a backpack. But I’d hoped to bring her home with me and give her a new purpose after the journey we endured together. That plan seems unlikely once Bonnie pulls out a pocketknife.
As if my backpack hasn’t suffered enough, Bonnie slashes at the thick seam connecting one of the straps, adding to Marigold’s battle scars.
The knife swishes closed, and she squeezes the seam like someone trying to get the last drops of ketchup out of a packet.
My curiosity draws me in closer—the same curiosity that landed me as the suspect in a murder.
Something shiny pops out of the rip, and Bonnie casts Marigold to the side as she stands, holding a large diamond between her thumb and forefinger.
“That was in there this whole time?” I frown.
“What a beaut,” she whispers, pulling out a small cloth bag and dropping the gem inside before whipping her gaze to me. “Don’t trust a man to do what we women do best.” She smirks, typing out a quick text before retrieving the gun from her back pocket. A minute later, there’s a tap and two short knocks on the door. Bonnie peeks through the peephole before swinging the door open.
“Brandon didn’t know about the diamond, did he? Otherwise, he would have taken it that first night he slashed Marigold.” I say robotically, processing the unfolding evidence out loud. Bonnie ignores me.
A burst of cool air hits me as I stare past her at the lone cleaning cart with a messy pile of towels on top. Bonnie smushesthe diamond between the top two towels before closing the door.
My goodness, no wonder this group keeps losing its loot. What in the world wasthatlittle bait and switch?
My eyes flick back up to Bonnie, and it suddenly dawns on me that she’s not fazed at my being witness to everything. I’ve watched enough crime movies to know what happens to the person who can identify the bad guy. Well, one of the bad guys, at least. I still don’t know who else is involved in the corridor outside, and I don’t think I’ll get the chance to find out.
Jack, I really hope you got my message.
