“Let me get this straight,”Owen said. “You got the key to Room 205 even though you were not planning to spend the night, and you discovered the body when you got there?”
At least he did not sound as if he doubted her, she thought. That was a positive step. A lot of people in his position probably would have assumed she was the killer.
“That’s right,” she said.
“Why did you bother to check in if you intended to drive back to Illusion Town tonight?”
“I was following the instructions that were texted to me. Let me explain. I was contacted anonymously and informed that someone was willing to sell me proof that I did not murder Travis Poole in a fit of psychic madness and, furthermore, that I had been kidnapped and bundled off to Serenity Gardens.”
“Got it. I knew Kelbrook or Twitchell must have used somethingalong those lines to lure you to the hotel. Who did you think you were going to meet?”
She hesitated, remembering the anonymous text. “Someone who claimed they were there the night Travis died. The instructions were to have a drink or a bite to eat at a bar in the little town a mile down the coast. I assumed that was so my contact could get a look at me and make sure I was alone.”
“Did you eat or drink anything?”
“No. I ordered a glass of sparkling water, but Sebastian growled at the waiter even though the man brought a bowl of bar snacks to the table. Sebastian does not usually turn down an offer of food, but he wouldn’t touch the snacks, and he growled again when I started to sip the sparkling water. I decided not to eat or drink anything.”
“Good choice.” Owen did not take his eyes off the road. “The water or the snacks, maybe both, were probably drugged.”
“I didn’t know what was going on, so I poured the water into a potted plant and dumped the bar snacks into the trash in the women’s room before I got back into my car.”
“In spite of all the red flags, you went ahead and checked in to the hotel,” Owen said.
She knew he had tried to mute the severe disapproval in the words, but he did not do a good job of it.
“It was a calculated risk,” she said coldly.
The termcalculated riskwas growing on her. She was starting to realize that there were all sorts of situations in which it was applicable. And it sounded so much more intelligent thanOkay, so it was a dumb thing to do.
“If that counts as a calculated risk, I’d hate to see what you think qualifies as a wildly impulsive risk,” he said.
“Agreeing to marry a man I’ve known for only about an hour would be a pretty good example,” she said.
He winced. “Never mind. What’s done is done. No sense wasting time with an argument.”
“I agree,” she said, in her most excruciatingly polite tones.
“You’re pissed.”
“Let’s just say I’m not in the mood to be lectured by the man who claims to be responsible for setting me up to be kidnapped and sent back to Serenity Gardens tonight.”
Owen groaned. “Low blow.”
“Sorry, but you must admit you provoked me.”
“And here I thought the Ballantine Method emphasized harmony and grace in all things.”
“The method does not prohibit self-defense. It simply advises that one choose one’s battles wisely.”
“I’ll remember that. Please finish your story.”
“Right. I got the room key from the front desk and went up to Room 205 to wait for my contact. When I opened the door of the room, I couldn’t see the body but I knew something was terribly wrong. Violent death leaves a lot of negative energy behind.”
“Yes,” he said. “It does.”
The ice in his words told her that he spoke from personal experience. She didn’t know what to say, so she plowed on with her tale. “Sebastian sensed the wrongness immediately, of course. When he sleeked out, I knew we were in trouble. At that point I decided to give up and leave.”
“But by then it was too late.”
