tonight.”
Margot rolled her shoulders and eyed the room with suspicion. She hadn’t been the one to pick up the mess in here. Joyce had done this room, while she’d focused on the kitchen.
If Jake was behind the vandalism, this was the perfect opportunity to search his room, and she didn’t plan on stopping until she came up with something. The man was hiding something.
She placed her glass on the dresser by the bottle and stepped around the bed to the closet. She opened the door and peered inside. Several shirts, a pair of boots, but little else. Sighing, she turned away and thrust her hands on her hips and eyed the floor by her feet.
Absently, she noted the bed skirt brushing against the carpet. The last time she’d been here, Jake had scared the devil out of her.
She hadn’t seen him come out of the bathroom because she’d been preoccupied with something. Yes. She inhaled sharply as memory flashed to the forefront. Her foot had hit a dark object protruding from beneath the bed.
She dropped down on her hands and knees and lifted the bed skirt. Two suitcases were shoved beneath the box spring. The vandals must have missed them.
“Yes!” She laughed, ecstatic. “Gotcha!”
She pulled out the one closest, which was a smaller, navy blue case with a carrying handle and wheels at the base. Sitting Indian style, she shifted the traveling bag up against her knees and looked for a lock. There wasn’t one.
“Come on luck. Keep it up. Show me what Jake might be hiding.”
The zipper slithered open with perfect ease. She pulled open the flap. Inside were several smaller bags and cases, a bottle of makeup—foundation of all things—and something—something she didn’t know what to make of. She touched what felt like some type of animal pelt. Frowning she gingerly picked it up. Dark chestnut hair. Human hair.
“My God,” she breathed.
It was a wig. She touched a silken strand between two fingers. It was the same color as Jake’s hair. Why would he need a wig?
Heart skittering against her ribs, she grasped a square, black box from inside which was similar to that of a makeup case. She snapped it open and looked inside. The upper section had...
She frowned again. What in the world? Gingerly, she slipped what looked like an eyebrow or mustache, the same color as the wig, from one of the compartments. She brushed the small piece with a thumb. My God. A tube of glue sat in another compartment while—
A rush of air raced over her, stirring the hair against her cheek. Something hit the bed.
What? Who?
Jerking back in surprise, she glanced sideways, only to have her view blocked by the comforter rushing at her. The material hit her head-on, blanketing and blinding her. She shoved at the comforter, knocking the case from her lap. Someone had slipped into the room with her. They could rush at her any second, could rape, kill—
Panicked, she fumbled for an opening and found none. Growing frantic now, she jerked to her knees and shoved at the suffocating material. Finally, she flung it off her head, throwing her hair on end. She whipped around, gasping for breath.
Dragging air into her lungs in deep, loud gasps, she rushed to her feet and backed away from the bed. She swept her gaze back and forth over the room but found no one. Still, she didn’t relax but stood tense, ready to run or fight if she had to.
“Who’s there? Why are you hiding?” She swallowed down fear and frustration. “Show yourself.”
No one appeared, which didn’t relieve the tension clawing at her shoulders and limbs. For a second she thought she was going crazy, but then she glanced down at the comforter caught around her ankle. It didn’t attack her all by itself.
Impatiently, she kicked the bedding aside. “Okay. Come on. The joke’s over. You can step out now. You’ve had your fun.”
She waited, shifting back and forth on the balls of her feet, ready to bolt if the need arose. Slowly, ever so slowly, as her gaze darted
Margot rolled her shoulders and eyed the room with suspicion. She hadn’t been the one to pick up the mess in here. Joyce had done this room, while she’d focused on the kitchen.
If Jake was behind the vandalism, this was the perfect opportunity to search his room, and she didn’t plan on stopping until she came up with something. The man was hiding something.
She placed her glass on the dresser by the bottle and stepped around the bed to the closet. She opened the door and peered inside. Several shirts, a pair of boots, but little else. Sighing, she turned away and thrust her hands on her hips and eyed the floor by her feet.
Absently, she noted the bed skirt brushing against the carpet. The last time she’d been here, Jake had scared the devil out of her.
She hadn’t seen him come out of the bathroom because she’d been preoccupied with something. Yes. She inhaled sharply as memory flashed to the forefront. Her foot had hit a dark object protruding from beneath the bed.
She dropped down on her hands and knees and lifted the bed skirt. Two suitcases were shoved beneath the box spring. The vandals must have missed them.
“Yes!” She laughed, ecstatic. “Gotcha!”
She pulled out the one closest, which was a smaller, navy blue case with a carrying handle and wheels at the base. Sitting Indian style, she shifted the traveling bag up against her knees and looked for a lock. There wasn’t one.
“Come on luck. Keep it up. Show me what Jake might be hiding.”
The zipper slithered open with perfect ease. She pulled open the flap. Inside were several smaller bags and cases, a bottle of makeup—foundation of all things—and something—something she didn’t know what to make of. She touched what felt like some type of animal pelt. Frowning she gingerly picked it up. Dark chestnut hair. Human hair.
“My God,” she breathed.
It was a wig. She touched a silken strand between two fingers. It was the same color as Jake’s hair. Why would he need a wig?
Heart skittering against her ribs, she grasped a square, black box from inside which was similar to that of a makeup case. She snapped it open and looked inside. The upper section had...
She frowned again. What in the world? Gingerly, she slipped what looked like an eyebrow or mustache, the same color as the wig, from one of the compartments. She brushed the small piece with a thumb. My God. A tube of glue sat in another compartment while—
A rush of air raced over her, stirring the hair against her cheek. Something hit the bed.
What? Who?
Jerking back in surprise, she glanced sideways, only to have her view blocked by the comforter rushing at her. The material hit her head-on, blanketing and blinding her. She shoved at the comforter, knocking the case from her lap. Someone had slipped into the room with her. They could rush at her any second, could rape, kill—
Panicked, she fumbled for an opening and found none. Growing frantic now, she jerked to her knees and shoved at the suffocating material. Finally, she flung it off her head, throwing her hair on end. She whipped around, gasping for breath.
Dragging air into her lungs in deep, loud gasps, she rushed to her feet and backed away from the bed. She swept her gaze back and forth over the room but found no one. Still, she didn’t relax but stood tense, ready to run or fight if she had to.
“Who’s there? Why are you hiding?” She swallowed down fear and frustration. “Show yourself.”
No one appeared, which didn’t relieve the tension clawing at her shoulders and limbs. For a second she thought she was going crazy, but then she glanced down at the comforter caught around her ankle. It didn’t attack her all by itself.
Impatiently, she kicked the bedding aside. “Okay. Come on. The joke’s over. You can step out now. You’ve had your fun.”
She waited, shifting back and forth on the balls of her feet, ready to bolt if the need arose. Slowly, ever so slowly, as her gaze darted
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