The corridor was quiet, muted carpet swallowing his footsteps. Halfway down the hall, a housekeeping cart sat outside an open door—fresh towels stacked, toiletries arranged, the sound of movement inside the room as someone worked, probably getting a head start on the changeover of an empty room.
Dakota walked past, easy, nothing to see here, eyes scanning. There—clipped to the side of the cart, a master key card. Standard hotel setup, the kind housekeeping used to access all rooms on their floor.
He palmed it without breaking stride. Kept walking. Turned the corner toward room 412.
The whole thing took maybe five seconds. Clean. Professional.
He shouldn’t feel guilty about leaving Jayden alone. She’d be fine.
Dakota pressed his ear to the door—silence—then tapped the master key. The light flashed green. He slipped inside and closed the door behind him.
The room was dark except for the Melbourne skyline glowing through the window. Standard hotel layout: king bed, desk, bathroom to the left. Two suitcases near the closet. Neither of them a gray bag. The Harts’ belongings scattered in the comfortable chaos of travelers who hadn’t fully unpacked.
Dakota’s eyes adjusted to the darkness. He started to move toward the suitcases—and stopped.
The balcony door was open.
Not just unlocked—actually ajar, the glass slider pushed back a few inches. The curtains moved slightly in the night breeze, and the sounds of the city drifted in—distant traffic, the hum of air-conditioning from nearby buildings.
Dakota’s hand went to his hip automatically, reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there. Right.
He crossed to the balcony door, moving carefully, and leaned out.
Melbourne spread out below—fourth floor, high enough to see the grid of lights and traffic, low enough that other balconies were visible on either side.
Dakota pulled back inside, frowning. The open door nagged at him—why would the Harts leave their balcony unsecured while they went to the restaurant? Carelessness? Forgetfulness? Or had someone else been here?
He turned to search the room.
The suitcases first. Two matching rolling bags in dark blue—practical, unremarkable. He unzipped the first one carefully, using his phone’s flashlight to see inside.
Clothes. Women’s sizes, neatly folded. Toiletries in a separate bag. A sleep mask. Nothing unusual.
Second suitcase: men’s clothes, larger sizes. More toiletries. A phone charger. Melatonin supplements. The detritus of jet-lagged tourists.
He moved to the desk. Plane tickets—Melbourne to Sydney, dated for tomorrow. The Aussie Adventures tour itinerary. A novel, dog-eared and pages marked. A Melbourne travel guide with pages marked for restaurants and attractions.
A laptop and a tablet sat on the desk. Dakota considered it, but hacking would take time he didn’t have—and would leave traces.
Toiletries in the bathroom, no prescriptions, no hidden compartments. Under the bed, just dust and hotel carpet. A few items hung up in the closet, shoes on the floor, nothing concealed.
Dakota stood in the middle of the room, heart hammering.
Nothing. It looked like the Harts were exactly what they claimed to be: a married couple on vacation. No weapons. No surveillance equipment. No flags on the surface. No rifle components hidden in secret compartments.
Either they were extremely good at hiding evidence, or they were innocent.
He was betting on innocent. Which meant the real threat was still out there—and he’d just wasted precious time searching the wrong room.
The open balcony door still nagged at him. Someone else was moving through this hotel tonight. Someone who wasn’t the Harts.
Dakota checked that everything was as he’d found it, then slipped back into the corridor.
The housekeeping cart still perched in the hallway, the housekeeper now two rooms farther down. Dakota dropped the master key back onto the cart as he passed—smooth, casual, invisible.
He took the stairs up to his floor, mind churning. The Harts were a dead end. The open balcony door was unexplained. Someone on this tour had attacked Howard, possibly looking for Jayden—and Dakota was no closer to knowing who.
And the summit was days away.
