Page 24 of The Deadly Shallows

“She should have been in hand hours ago. The longer we wait, the more we risk her sharing what Andrews told her. Get her now!” Or he’d suffer the consequences.

“Hang on,” Saul said, putting him on hold.

His limbs burned in the silence, and then the call reconnected. “Did you just put me on hold?”

“Sorry. She just walked past me. She’s in the women’s locker room. I’ll grab her now.”

“Good. And, Saul . . .”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t. Screw. It. Up.”

The call dropped, and he chucked his phone across the room. It bounced off the far wall. This was Saul’s last chance. Either he came through, or he was the next fatality.

Brooke stepped into the locker room, the scent of Pert shampoo hanging in the air. A nurse was fixing her braid in the mirror.

“Hey there,” the woman said.

“Hi.” Brooke nodded. “Just heading for the showers.”

“They’re in the back. Be careful. The water comes out surprisingly hot in here.”

“Thanks for the tip.” She grabbed a towel from the bin—thin and rather scratchy but clean—and acquainted herself with her surroundings, like she always did. Two doors in and out. Two entrances to keep an eye on.

The towel tucked under her arm, she stepped into one of the curtained shower stalls. There was a bench with two hooks above it, far enough away from the spray radius to remain dry. She set the Trader Joe’s bag on the bench, hung the towel on the hook, and pulled the plastic curtain closed behind her.

Leaning forward, she turned the faucet. A high pitch sounded, then the water spurted out. Steam filled the space with a warm cloud before she even stepped back to disrobe. The nurse wasn’t kidding about hot.

Fishing the hotel-sized shampoo, conditioner, and soap from the bag, she set them on the soap dish jutting out a few inches from the ceramic wall.

She pulled off her scrubs and looked down, her breath hitching at the sight of Molly’s dried blood along the band of her white sports bra. Grabbing hold of the straps, she tugged. The dried blood had crusted the band to her skin. Fighting back sobs, she tugged harder, peeling it away from her body.

Tears streamed down her face as she punched it along with the rest of her dirty clothes into an empty Target bag Gabby had included. Her friend had thought of everything. She hung the bag on one of the hooks, then stepped under the spray.

Hot water rolled over her, and she leaned deeper into it, praying it would somehow wash the sorrow of the day away.

The door to her right opened and slowly creaked shut.

Something inside her hitched.

She peeked out of the curtain but saw no one. She ran the shower curtain hooks back across the bar the few inches she’d opened it and moved into the water’s spray.

A moment later, footfalls echoed across the tile.

“Hello?” she called, expecting a nurse to respond. Nothing but footfalls drawing near.

FOURTEEN

Brooke shut off the water, yanked a towel off the hook, and wrapped it about her. “Hello?”

The heavy steps grew closer still.

She quickly glanced about for a weapon and, finding her keys in her catchall bag, fashioned several to stick out between her fingers and made a fist.

A shadow crept across the curtain.

Her chest seized.