Which means I won’t get much more information out of her.
“Thank you,” I say.
I turn toward the elevators just as the doors slide open.
Calliope is seated on her stool but stands when she sees me.
“Oh!” she says brightly. “Hi, Mr. Garrison.”
Calliope is the exact opposite of Mabree.
Cheerful.
Chatty.
And dangerously observant.
“Calliope,” I say.
She smiles. “Headed to lunch?”
“Actually,” I say, stepping into the elevator with her, “I was hoping you might help me with something.”
The doors slide shut.
“Have you seen Miss Storm today?”
Her smile widens immediately. “Yes, I have.”
Of course she has.
“Do you know where she went?” I hear the impatience creeping into my voice.
Calliope tilts her head slightly. “I dropped her off about thirty minutes ago, I believe it was.”
My brow furrows. “Where?”
“Sixth floor.”
The elevator hums as it begins to rise.
“Did she head toward the conference rooms?”
She smiles innocently. “No. I believe I saw her going to room 641.”
My jaw tightens slightly. “Why?”
Calliope shrugs. “No idea.”
My temper flickers to life. Guest rooms are for guests. Surely, she’s not cavorting with one?
“Is she visiting one of our guests?” I ask carefully, my hands curling into fists at the thought.
Calliope shakes her head. “Nope. The room’s empty.”
Empty? Then why—
I exhale slowly. “Take me to the sixth floor.”
