“Where do you want me to put these bags?” Emma asked.
“Dump them on the table and I’ll unpack them later. Want a drink?”
“No, I’d better head home before Jack sends out a search party. Thanks for the invitation. It was fun. Is there any chance of getting tickets to go your show? I’d love to see you live.”
“I’ll try,” Cassie promised. “Will Jack keep my secret?”
“Jack is excellent at secrets.”
“Wait to see if I can score tickets before you tell him, okay?”
“Fair enough.” Emma hugged Cassie. “Thank you.”
Cassie winced, and Emma released her at once.
“You sore?”
“A little. I’ll take a hot shower and pain killers before I go to bed. That should help. Busy day tomorrow. I want to do more painting, rehearse for the first show and pick up my replacement rental car. Oh, I forgot to tell you. I met my neighbor this morning. He seems nice.”
“Dateable?”
“A businessman. A little buttoned-up for me. I have a weakness for the bad boys. Always my downfall.”
Emma chortled and patted her shoulder in commiseration. “At least you know they’re bad. See you tomorrow.”
Cassie locked the door after her friend. She padded to the tiny bathroom, deciding to remove her makeup and have an early night.
Five minutes later, she stepped from the hot shower. The whiny fan wasn’t coping with the surplus steam, so she opened the frosted-glass window above the vanity unit. It bore a security lock and opened a scant five inches. Music, something about bringing on the clowns drifted on the air. She shivered and drew her towel around her naked form. A creepy song about creepy beings.
Without warning, a gloved hand shot through the window gap.
A white hand.
Cassie screamed and lurched backward. Her spine hit the shower stall. The door vibrated with the force of her weight.
“Send in the clowns,” a voice rasped.
Clammy fear slithered down Cassie’s spine. A whimper broke free. The strange voice, the tone of the words worked on her psyche like fingernails on a blackboard. “G-go away. I-I’m calling the police.”
A face pressed close to the gap. A white face. A red button nose.
Cassie’s legs quaked. The clown chuckled. Maniacal. Cray-crazy. She moaned, edged toward the door. Her phone. She had to get her phone. The door was locked. He’d have to break a window, the door, something to gain entry.
“Where ya gone, girlie? Just acting friendly. Where ya be?”
Cassie’s breaths came in harsh pants, her fingers quivering as she reached for her phone. Her fingers shook so much, she misdialed once before she rang 111.
“111 emergency, fire, ambulance or police?”
“Police. Please, I need the police,” Cassie gasped out.
Immediately, a tone sounded in her ear. Her gaze darted toward the bathroom, she cocked her head to listen.
“This is the police. How can I help you?” a calm feminine voice asked.
“Someone is trying to break in to my motel room.”
“What is your address?”
