Jenny remembered the tall, slim man and the attractive woman with him. “I’ll take care of it. Hand me the passkey, just in case.” In case there was a problem. Most likely the couple had simply overslept.
Jenny headed upstairs. Room 10 was in the new section. There was noPRIVACYsign hanging on the door, so Jenny walked over and knocked. She knocked again, but still got no answer.
“Hello?” Knock, knock, knock. “Is anyone in there?” Pressing her ear against the door, she was sure she heard a sound, but she couldn’t be sure. The room was prepaid. Maybe they’d just left and forgot to turn in their key.
Pulling the passkey out of the pocket of her stretch jeans, she shoved it into the lock, praying the couple wasn’t in the middle of a quiet round of sex.
She banged again as she opened the door, giving them enough time to call out, then pushed the door farther open. A scream erupted, impossible to contain, the gruesome sight in front of her making her stomach twist.
The tall, thin man lay naked on the floor, covered in blood. His eyes were open and staring at the ceiling. The pretty flowered porcelain basin and pitcher that sat on the dresser was shattered, the man lying among the vicious glass shards.
Trembling all over, Jenny started backing up, hit the door, knocking it closed, turned, jerked it open, and raced out into the hall.911.She had to call 911 and get help. Dear God, where was her cell phone?
When she reached the stairs, Heather was racing toward her from the bottom, pink-streaked dark hair flying around her shoulders. “What is it! What’s going on?”
Jenny realized one of her hands was balled into a shaking fist. She pressed it over her mouth, then forced herself to take a calming breath. “Call 911. Tell them it’s . . . it’s an emergency.”
Jenny swallowed. She had to collect herself. She was the one in charge. She was the boss. It was up to her to handle the situation. She took another breath and tried to calm her racing heart.
“What’s going on?” Heather repeated.
“Just do it. Tell them we need help. Tell them someone’s . . . someone’s been murdered.”
Heather’s eyes widened. As the girl jerked out her cell to call the police, Jenny thought of the woman who had been with the man when they’d checked in. She’d found the man on the floor, naked and covered in blood the color of old meat, dark and thick, his empty eyes open and staring. There was no doubt he was dead.
But what about the woman? Dear God, what if she were also injured, maybe even dead?
Gripping the banister, she started back up the stairs, her legs shaking so badly she could barely place one foot in front of the other. She could hear the sound of a siren, but all she could think of was getting to the woman, praying she was still alive.
Her knees felt weak as she shoved open the door and walked back into the room. The coppery smell of blood hit her, and her stomach rolled. She fisted her hands to keep from touching anything, trying not to look at the naked man on the floor. She was halfway across the room when she noticed a pair of fuzzy pink slippers on the other side of the bed.
Nausea rolled in her stomach as she moved closer, saw the woman lying on the floor, the trim ankles, the bare calves, the pink shorty nightgown that matched the slippers.
Jenny bit back a scream, locked it down tightly in her throat.Be alive, she thought.Be alive.
She forced herself to move closer, saw the blood on the nightgown, more of it matted in the long blond hair. Then she saw the rise and fall of the young woman’s chest.Alive, alive, alive.
Her throat closed up. She barely felt the tears washing down her cheeks.Thank you, God. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Jenny knelt beside the woman, who was unconscious but breathing, which meant her heart was beating. She had no first-aid training, but the fire department was only down the street. She dialed 911 and told them she needed an ambulance as well as the police, hung up, and knelt beside the woman.
The woman was still breathing, and the EMTs would be there any minute. She didn’t want to move her, perhaps make her injuries worse.
She vaguely heard voices calling her name, followed by the sound of heavy boot steps. Rising from beside the bed, she turned, expecting to see the EMTs, but instead saw Cain striding toward her.
She must have made a sound in her throat, because he was pulling her up from the floor, easing her into his arms.
“Everything’s going to be okay. Help just arrived. We just need to keep out of their way.”
“The man is . . . is dead.”
“Yes, I see that.” He led her out into the hall, passing the emergency techs. A man and a woman in black uniforms rushed past them into the room.
“The ambulance is on its way up from Cottonwood,” Cain said.
“The woman . . .” Her fingers dug into his arm. “She’s . . . she’s still alive.”
He nodded. Drew her a little farther down the hall. She felt the tip of his finger, wiping tears from her cheeks.
