Page 79 of Hard Heart

“I meant in which part of his anatomy?”

“His stomach. And his neck.”

He’d been stabbed more than once? This got worse and worse. I wanted to sink to the floor and rock, but I had to at least pretend to remain detached.

Raelene handed over a business card. “My associate and I will be staying at the Sunshine Inn. I’ll expect a call as soon as Mr. Sykes is awake, and you should set the wheels in motion to arrange a hospital visit. I understand these things can take a while to approve, but given the nature of the security lapse, I trust you’ll expedite the process.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Raelene said on the short drive back to the motel. Given its location, I suspected half of the guests were connected to the prison in some way. Relatives, lawyers, contractors…

“No, it doesn’t.”

“I’ll call you as soon as they call me. In the meantime, get studying.”

I threw her a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

But instead of calling, Raelene knocked on my door ten minutes after we arrived, holding two cans of Dr Pepper.

“Checking up on me?” I waved a hand at the books spread across my bed. “I’m swotting up on torts.”

“That’s not why I’m here. Have you been in my room for any reason?”

“No, why would I? I don’t even have a key.”

“I didn’t think so. You know that paranoia thing we spoke about earlier?”

My guts clenched. “Yes?”

“I dated a cop once—yeah, yeah, I know, big mistake, but he taught me a few little security tricks. And I’m certain that my door’s been opened.”

“Housekeeping?”

“They’re not due until tomorrow morning, and this sure isn’t the kind of place that offers a turndown service.”

“Maintenance?”

“Why? I didn’t report any problems. And I think someone also looked through my suitcase.”

“Did they take anything?”

“Not that I can see.”

I was beginning to get a bad, bad feeling about this, and since I was already on the verge of a nervous breakdown, that was saying a lot.

“Your room was supposed to be my room. The girl at the desk upgraded me, I think as an informal loyalty bonus, but I switched our keys because of seniority and all that. I don’t know if that’s significant, but…but it’s weird,” I finally concluded.

“Has anyone been in your room?”

I turned to survey the shoes I’d kicked off, the backpack I’d upended in search of my favourite pen, and the jacket I’d tossed over a chair.

“How would I even tell?”

“Come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“To my room. We’re going to have a nice chat about bar exams and life in general.”

“But my revision…”