probably left them in your jacket upstairs,” Phoebe volunteered, panting from their mad dash down seven flights of stairs and across the street.
“Let’s take mine.” The Chief motioned for the group to follow. He led them to the far end of the parking lot and stopped in front of a big 4X4 pickup with oversized wheels.
“Are we all gonna fit in there?” Allen asked, staring at the truck’s single cab.
“I don’t give a damn where I ride, as long as I can get to Emma,” Zan replied, fighting to hold back his panic. He boosted the women up into the cab, climbed into the bed of the truck, and motioned to Allen. “Get in.”
The pick-up’s engine came alive; its row of bright off-road lights lit up the darkness as they sped away. Zan and Allen clung to the roll bars as the Chief zigzagged his way up the side of the mountain. He dodged parked cars on the narrow streets and swerved into a rock wall to avoid a head-on collision. Zan could see the lights of the big hotel grow closer as they bounced along, but the ride seemed interminable.
“Come on, Emma…answer…” he barked into his cell phone, almost dropping it when the Chief made a sharp turn. Her voice mail came on and he hit cancel . He dialed again, this time trying to reach Jonathan. Same thing. They’d probably already gone to sleep.
Moments later they pulled into the hotel’s driveway. Zan jumped from the bed of the truck while it still rolled and loped up the front steps. He dashed through the lobby and took the stairs two at a time, winding round and round until he reached the fourth floor. He didn’t stop to catch his breath until he saw the room marked 419.
“Emma—Emma are you in there?” he pounded on the door, realizing he’d left the room key in his jacket along with his car keys. Frustrated, a primitive urge to kick in the flimsy barrier overcame him. He stepped back from the door and picked up one leg, preparing to batter it down.
“Zan…wait!”
He hesitated when he heard Moonbeam’s voice and the clatter of running feet on the ancient stairs. He peeked around the corner and saw the group coming toward him. Jimmy the bellman huffed and panted from the exertion of running upstairs. A big ring of keys dangled from his right hand. Zan stepped back and let Jimmy open the door.
Zan rushed into the parlor, searching for his wife. Lights blazed in every room of the suite, but Emma wasn’t there. Her clothes were sprawled across a chair beside the bed and her shoes were on the floor. The bed was still made up. The suitcase was open, as if someone had been rummaging through it. The others streamed in behind him, glancing around with worried expressions.
“Emma? Emma, where are you?” Zan called. He went into the bathroom, saw the empty medication bottle on the floor, and panicked. “She’s not in here, either.”
“Check the closet,” Phoebe suggested. Empty. Allen lifted up the bedspread, and searched under the bed. Nothing.
“Is anything of hers missing?” asked Moonbeam.
Zan shook his head, “Not that I can tell. It looks like all her clothes are still here. Her shoes too.”
Allen picked up the phone and dialed his father’s room. “Dad, this is Allen…sorry to wake you, but we’ve got a problem…we can’t find Emma…no, she’s not in the room…yeah, looks like she’s been here, but she’s not here now...okay, we’ll see you in a few minutes.”
“Do they know where she could be?” Zan pleaded.
“No. Dad and Barbara said they got off the elevator on their floor and just assumed Emma came up to her room and went to bed. They had no idea anything was wrong.”
“Have there been any reports of anything strange tonight?” Zan turned to Jimmy.
“No, sir. Not until just a little while ago with this—uh—situation.”
“Is everything okay in here?” a bald man dressed in green pajamas stepped into the open door from the hallway. “I’m staying up in the penthouse and my wife and I heard the
“Let’s take mine.” The Chief motioned for the group to follow. He led them to the far end of the parking lot and stopped in front of a big 4X4 pickup with oversized wheels.
“Are we all gonna fit in there?” Allen asked, staring at the truck’s single cab.
“I don’t give a damn where I ride, as long as I can get to Emma,” Zan replied, fighting to hold back his panic. He boosted the women up into the cab, climbed into the bed of the truck, and motioned to Allen. “Get in.”
The pick-up’s engine came alive; its row of bright off-road lights lit up the darkness as they sped away. Zan and Allen clung to the roll bars as the Chief zigzagged his way up the side of the mountain. He dodged parked cars on the narrow streets and swerved into a rock wall to avoid a head-on collision. Zan could see the lights of the big hotel grow closer as they bounced along, but the ride seemed interminable.
“Come on, Emma…answer…” he barked into his cell phone, almost dropping it when the Chief made a sharp turn. Her voice mail came on and he hit cancel . He dialed again, this time trying to reach Jonathan. Same thing. They’d probably already gone to sleep.
Moments later they pulled into the hotel’s driveway. Zan jumped from the bed of the truck while it still rolled and loped up the front steps. He dashed through the lobby and took the stairs two at a time, winding round and round until he reached the fourth floor. He didn’t stop to catch his breath until he saw the room marked 419.
“Emma—Emma are you in there?” he pounded on the door, realizing he’d left the room key in his jacket along with his car keys. Frustrated, a primitive urge to kick in the flimsy barrier overcame him. He stepped back from the door and picked up one leg, preparing to batter it down.
“Zan…wait!”
He hesitated when he heard Moonbeam’s voice and the clatter of running feet on the ancient stairs. He peeked around the corner and saw the group coming toward him. Jimmy the bellman huffed and panted from the exertion of running upstairs. A big ring of keys dangled from his right hand. Zan stepped back and let Jimmy open the door.
Zan rushed into the parlor, searching for his wife. Lights blazed in every room of the suite, but Emma wasn’t there. Her clothes were sprawled across a chair beside the bed and her shoes were on the floor. The bed was still made up. The suitcase was open, as if someone had been rummaging through it. The others streamed in behind him, glancing around with worried expressions.
“Emma? Emma, where are you?” Zan called. He went into the bathroom, saw the empty medication bottle on the floor, and panicked. “She’s not in here, either.”
“Check the closet,” Phoebe suggested. Empty. Allen lifted up the bedspread, and searched under the bed. Nothing.
“Is anything of hers missing?” asked Moonbeam.
Zan shook his head, “Not that I can tell. It looks like all her clothes are still here. Her shoes too.”
Allen picked up the phone and dialed his father’s room. “Dad, this is Allen…sorry to wake you, but we’ve got a problem…we can’t find Emma…no, she’s not in the room…yeah, looks like she’s been here, but she’s not here now...okay, we’ll see you in a few minutes.”
“Do they know where she could be?” Zan pleaded.
“No. Dad and Barbara said they got off the elevator on their floor and just assumed Emma came up to her room and went to bed. They had no idea anything was wrong.”
“Have there been any reports of anything strange tonight?” Zan turned to Jimmy.
“No, sir. Not until just a little while ago with this—uh—situation.”
“Is everything okay in here?” a bald man dressed in green pajamas stepped into the open door from the hallway. “I’m staying up in the penthouse and my wife and I heard the
Similar Books
