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Grayson pushed back his chair. “I’ll check out the area on the far sides of the Harrison Industries’ complex. I won’t limit myself to paved roads. Did you notice anything around there when you and the men were on Miller’s Ridge?”
“Not really,” Rider said.
“There is a housing complex on the other side,” Paris said. “You probably didn’t notice it because there is a hill between the company and the development.”
Both men looked at each other. “I wonder if there might be a passageway from one side to the other?” Grayson questioned.
“Anything is possible. We know that the Colters have this affinity for tunnels,” Rider said.
“I’ll see if one of the men wants to check it out with me,” Grayson offered.
“Do that,” Rider said.
As soon as Grayson left, Paris stood. “I’m beginning to believe that I have cocaine in my system. I’m beat. Hopefully, I’ll be more alert tomorrow.” She blew out a breath. “I’m glad I have the day off.”
“On a Wednesday?”
He hadn’t figured out her schedule yet? “Yes, on a Wednesday. Harrison Industries operates seven-days a week.”
“Sleep well.”
Paris was still a little strung out when she walked next door to her room. Her head hurt a little, and she was kind of hungry, but she feared if she ate something, her stomach would not be happy.
She unpacked her clothes and stuffed the dirty ones in her small suitcase. After she washed up, she headed to bed for a short nap.
Paris wasn’t sure how long it was before she awoke to a strange sound. Then she saw him. Richard Delancey was standing at the end of her bed.
“Hello, Paris.”
She rubbed her eyes. She had to be dreaming. It was dark outside, and her lamp was off, and yet it was bright in the room. Nothing was adding up like it should. The cocaine! It had to be messing with her system, though it should have dissipated by now.
“Why are you here?” She felt a little funny asking when it was clear he had to be a figment of her imagination. Or was he?
Dr. Delancey moved toward her, and Paris’ heart nearly jumped out of her skin. The shock caused her to sit up. The room turned dark once more.
“Hello?”
No one answered. Why? Because no one was there. It had been a nightmare. She’d never had one before. Ever. The cocaine must have triggered some deep seeded fear or anxiety in her.
You know what that is.
That stupid voice in her head implied that Paris couldn’t keep going like this. She had to tell the truth to Grayson and Rider. It wasn’t fair to them to keep what she knew a secret any longer.
Paris swung her legs over the side of the bed and turned on the light. It was ten at night. Yikes. So much for a short nap.
Decision made. She needed to come clean. Paris quickly dressed and went next door. Even walking the ten feet caused jitters to race up her spine. The image of Delancey at the foot of her bed really had unsettled her. Once she gathered her courage, she knocked on the men’s door.
A second later, Rider answered. “Paris? What's wrong? Grayson’s not here if you’re looking for him.”
Why did these men always assume the worst? “No. I wasn’t looking for anyone in particular. Can I come in?”
“Of course. I’m sorry.”
Rider looked at the alarm clock on the side table. “I thought you’d be asleep by now.”
“I was sleeping.” This was going to be harder than she thought it would be. “I had a nightmare.”
Concern washed over Rider’s face. To her shock, he wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder and led her over to one of the beds. “Sit down and tell me about it.”
