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rse and laptop were still there.
“What the hell just happened?” I muttered. My throat felt raw and my voice had a raspy edge to it.
I sat up, causing the room to tilt momentarily. Pausing, I got my bearings back before venturing to my feet.
Room service. Who was that guy with the gold tooth? He must have used something to knock me out. Why? Hopefully, nothing had been stolen.
My gaze swerved back to my shoulder bag and laptop. I stumbled toward them, and the floor bucked beneath my feet. After checking to make sure the contents of each appeared unmolested, I turned toward the door. It was closed, but the deadbolt and chain weren’t locked.
The room spun as I crossed it. I leaned against the door until the spinning stopped, then fumbled the locks into place.
Taking baby steps, I made my way toward the room service tray. The hamburger was cold. Not that I was hungry anymore.
Someone had shut the curtains, but I could detect a fine, dark line between them. It must be late. Or early. Slowly turning my head, I saw the bedside clock read 10:35. So, late then.
I heard the toilet flush. That’s when I realized the bathroom door was closed. I heard movement within. I ran to the room service tray and grabbed a serrated knife provided with the silverware.
When the door opened, I thought I would scream. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out when I saw who it was.
“Jessica? Are you all right?”
“Cynthia.” For a moment, her name just hung in the air between us. “What are you doing here?”
Ten minutes later, I’d surreptitiously stowed the knife under a pillow and was still absorbing the explanation Cyn had offered. She claimed to have been worried enough after I disappeared from the restaurant to have checked with Shelley about whether she’d heard from me. Shelley had told her about my need to leave town because of a “family emergency.” I was trying to remember if I’d ever mentioned to Shelley where I was going, while Cyn rattled on nonstop.
“When I saw on the news that Fred had been murdered, I just about freaked out! Then, your name came up and . . . well, I just couldn’t believe you’d had anything to do with it.” She stopped for breath, with her head bowed and looked up at me uncertainly. “You didn’t, right?”
“Of course not! I could never do anything like that. What reason would I have?”
Cyn seemed to be watching me closely. I imagined my own look probably mirrored hers.
“By the way,” I said. “How did you find me here?”
Cyn looked embarrassed. “I found your sister, actually. I saw you leave her place and followed the cab.”
“Oh, okay.” I tried to sound casual, but the wheels were turning in my mind. Why did that explanation seem a bit too pat? I mean, what a co-ink-a-dink. I happened to leave my sister’s condo, and Cyn just happened to be outside her place and watched me leave. Coincidences do happen, but things were getting to be a little hard to believe.
“I told the guy at the desk I was a friend who was concerned about you, because you’d disappeared and all. He was very kind. Gave me your room number.”
I nodded, wondering how much she’d paid for that information.
Cyn’s eyes widened, and she thrashed the air with both hands as she spoke. “When I got here, the door was open! I knocked, but no one answered, so I walked right in.
“You were out cold on the bed, stretched sideways across it. I figured I’d wait for you to wake up, just to make sure you were okay. You must have been exhausted to fall asleep like that.” She gave me a sharp look. “And what were you thinking, leaving your door open? You could have been robbed or . . . .” She shuddered. “Or worse.”
“I know.” I wondered how much to believe of her story. I’d gathered more strength as she’d told it, but my thinking was still a little fuzzy from whatever I’d been drugged with. Should I challenge her or just go along? Which was safer?
Wait a minute, I thought. This is Cynthia we’re talking about. What would she have to do with anything? She was only a friend of Fred’s. Or was she?
I didn’t want to assume anything. But right now, I had two men—two men who might have killed Fred—following me all the way across the country and talking to my sister for reasons I couldn’t begin to know. I had no idea who I could trust and who I couldn’t. The notion of trust was becoming laughable.
“Well, fortunately, nothing happened.” I left it at that.
“Thank God for that.” Cyn leaned toward me and placed a hand on my arm. I almost recoiled. “Let’s make sure it stays that way.”
Making the excuse that I could use some “alone time” to work on my novel (telling her I needed sleep seemed bizarre under the circumstances), I gently (but firmly) asked Cynthia if she’d mind continuing our talk in the morning. She smiled and nodded—Cyn was so good at that—and we made plans to get together for breakfast. She told me she was staying at a place only a block or two away. We exchanged cell numbers, at her insistence, and after a protracted farewell, I saw her out the door, quickly locking it behind her.
I briefly thought of switching hotels, but it was so late and I’d already had enough trouble finding one I could afford that wasn’t a fleabag. Besides, if I was under someone’s surveillance, what would stop them from simply following me to the next hotel? One that would only end up costing more and giving no benefit in return.
