Authors: Shannon Curtis
Chapter Fifteen
Ryan looked around the guest lounge as Meagan James coordinated some of her staff in setting up the games. Most of the couples had arrived, apart from one or two stragglers. He took a seat next to Jennifer and smiled at her as staff came around with finger food.
“How’s it going?” he greeted her, and was surprised when she returned his smile. She’d seemed a bit cool toward the group, thus far.
“Good, thanks, although I can’t believe we’re playing games,” she said, shaking her head.
Ryan looked around. “No Elliot?” he asked, noticing her partner’s absence.
Jennifer’s smile withered. “No, not yet. He’s got a bit of a headache, so is lying down. He said he’d join us later.”
Ryan nodded. “Huh. There seems to be a lot of that going around,” he muttered. Jennifer cocked an eyebrow. “My wife has decided she’s staying in tonight,” he explained.
“Ah, that’s right. You had the counseling session this afternoon. How did it go?” Ryan grimaced, and Jennifer’s smile broadened. “Well, I guess that’s something else we can look forward to,” she murmured.
Ryan looked at her. She was an attractive woman, she seemed intelligent. If she was really who she said she was, and not Jade Maxwell incognito, then she was a woman he hadn’t expected to see at a couples’ counseling resort. “I have to admit, I’m surprised to see you here,” he commented.
Jennifer frowned. “Why?”
Ryan leaned back in the sofa. “Well, you’re successful, accomplished, you seem very business savvy, intelligent, you can afford to do what you like—but you’re here, of all places. I would have expected you to be cruising along the French Riviera, or the Bahamas.”
Jennifer’s smile was wistful. “Trust me, if I didn’t think we needed to be here, we wouldn’t be. This isn’t a picnic, that’s for sure. Being cut off from the business is driving me nuts.” She eyed him briefly before returning her attention to Meagan, who was dealing out the cards. Drew entered the room, and Ryan watched absently as his colleague set up a large screen. His friend seemed a little...off.
Jennifer sighed. “I’ve had to accept that my husband is a workaholic with an addictive personality, and the longer I’m with him, the more neurotic I become. Something has to change.”
“Has it always been like this? What was it like when you first met?” Maybe if he could get her talking about their past, he might be able to find something that could verify her identity as either Jennifer or Jade Maxwell.
She smiled. “We met at college. Damn, we were so young. So naive.”
“Oh? Which college?”
“Berkeley.”
“Hey, what have we got going on here?” Hank’s voice echoed from above their seat, and Ryan looked up. Hank surveyed the room and nodded. “This is looking great.” He eyed the gaming tables and rubbed his hands. “Oh, daddy’s going to win big tonight.”
Meagan smiled as she approached them. “That’s a great attitude. Of course, we’re only using play money.”
Hank’s face fell, then he shrugged. “Of course.”
Meagan gestured toward one of the tables. “Why don’t we start with a bit of poker?”
Ryan pasted a smile on his face, and wished he knew just what the hell Vicky was doing, right about now.
* * *
Drew left the guest lounge. More drinks. Meagan James had created a list of mocktails for the evening, and the guests were lapping them up. They knew there was no alcohol in this resort, right? Maybe there was a placebo effect taking place.
He’d left Ryan playing a round of Texas Hold ’em with Hank, Jennifer, Jeffrey and Margie. Kurt and Paula were competing against each other in a stirring round of Guitar Hero. He pursed his lips. He noticed Elliot hadn’t arrived yet. He rounded the corner of the corridor and halted. Meagan James and Gavin Dryden were standing on the other side of the glass panel of the swing door to the kitchen, arguing. Drew pulled back until he could observe from the bend in the corridor, without being seen.
Dryden was furious about something. He waved his finger in Meagan’s face. She shook her head, refuting whatever the shrink was yelling at her. And he was yelling. Even at this distance, although Drew couldn’t hear the exact words, but he could hear the low rumble of an irate male voice.
Meagan held up her hands, as though to try and calm her boss, but Dryden waved her away. He held up two fingers, yelled some more, then stormed off through the kitchen. Drew watched Meagan as she fought back tears. Her hand rose to her temple, trembling. She paced out of sight of the panel, and then back again. Her chin rose. She took a deep, calming breath, and her expression slowly changed from upset to resolute. She pushed the door, and Drew started walking toward her. He held up his empty tray.
“Our guests are thirsty,” he commented.
She gave him a quick smile. “Well, whatever it takes to keep them happy. Keep up the good work.”
She walked past him into the guest lounge, a smile plastered across her face. Drew shook his head as he walked into the kitchen. She gave new meaning to the phrase stress management.
* * *
Vicky rested on her haunches at the ring of trees that ended just before Deborah and Hank’s cabin. It was friggin’ freezing. From the looks of things there was one light burning in the entry hall and the rest of the cabin lay in darkness. She’d seen Hank and Deborah leave. She pressed the light on her watch briefly to check the time. The games night would be well and truly underway, and she thought for a moment about Ryan.
He seemed so comfortable talking with the various members of the group. He’d slipped himself into the situation with an enviable ease, while she...well, she was quietly freaking out that the person she was speaking to could be Orla’s attacker, Karl’s murderer.
No, she’d rather hide in the bushes in the dark, startling at every little sound and movement, trying to resist the urge to pee, she was so keyed up. Everything seemed so quiet, so hushed. Snow had fallen earlier, laying a carpet of fluffy white insulation across the ground. She could hear each little rustle, each pad of feet as night critters moved through the underbrush. She jerked at the sound of a bird rustling in the branches above her head, and then hunkered down even further, pulling her scarf up over her mouth and nose and trying to calm her racing heart.
Fine agent I’m turning out to be
. Sitting here, in the snow, trying to work up the courage to search a potential killer’s cabin. She shook her head. She had to move, if for no other reason than she was freezing her ass off.
She ran across the snow, her boots making squidgy noises with each step until she reached the pebbled path. She stomped her feet on the metal grid in front of the door to get rid of as much snow and ice as possible off her boots.
She held her breath as she slid the master key through the slot, her gloved fingers shaking. What if it doesn’t work? The light flashed to green. Darn. It worked. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or even more worried as a result. Now she had to go in. She pressed her hand against her stomach in an attempt to calm herself, and to keep herself from heaving.
Maybe a mantra would help
.
Float like a phantom.
Pounce like a tiger.
Nah.
That just sounded stupid
.
She entered the cabin, shutting the door with great care. Ryan had reminded her that so far both their cabin and Kurt and Paula’s were bugged, so it stood to reason perhaps all of the guest cabins were planted with listening devices. If she wasn’t pretending to be someone she wasn’t, she was sure she’d be fuming at the breach of privacy. As it was, she was breaking into someone’s cabin to snoop. She really couldn’t take the high ground on that one.
Be quiet.
Be quick.
She looked around the cabin. Some garments were strewn across the back of a sofa, and the dressing table looked a mess. A wardrobe door was already open, and she could see several outfits hanging there.
She switched on her flashlight. Time to get to work.
Now
,
if I was a twisted killer who had recent facial reconstructive surgery
,
where would I hide my important stuff?
She dropped to her knees and looked under the bed. Stockings, a high heeled shoe, and that was about it. She started to search the room methodically, quickly and quietly opening bedside table drawers, sliding her hands under pillows and mattresses, looking behind framed pictures.
Oh
,
that’s what a bug looks like
. She looked at the little transmitter behind the painting over the bed. So, who the hell would want to listen in on a couple’s pillow talk? Why? Was this Simon and Jade’s doing, getting some background information on their potential marks?
After a half hour of thorough searching in the main bedroom and living area, she had nothing to show for it.
Nothing
. She sat back on her heels in front of one of the deep-set sofas. Okay. Think like a recovering patient. There were probably painkillers somewhere, some form of medication to ward off infection.
Bathroom?
She scampered up the two stairs that divided the cabin’s sleeping area from the living area, and into the bathroom.
Ew
. There was toothpaste, shaving cream and God-only-knows what smudged across the mirror. She trifled through the little bottles on the vanity. Multi-vitamins, fish oil, vitamin D, folate—it looked like a pharmacy. There was a bottle of pills with a name she couldn’t pronounce. She remembered what Ryan had told her about Paula’s medication and took out her phone and used the camera function to snap a photo of the label, then put it back. She slid open one of the vanity drawers and froze. Inside lay a neat little syringe dispenser pack, with a couple of vials of fluid.
She frowned. So much for the resort’s no drugs policy. She could understand the vitamins—maybe. They weren’t an illicit substance. But, what are these? And how did Deborah get them past the entrance inspection? She quickly snapped a photo and searched through the rest of the drawers. There was a label, but no instructions for the drugs. Medicine? Did Deborah have a condition that required medication, like diabetes or an allergy? Something else for Drew to check. She closed everything up and returned to the main area. Looking around the room, she tried to figure out where to look next.
That’s when she heard the crunch of boots on the pebbled path. A feminine giggle, a low throaty chuckle from a male, and the click as a card entered the slot lock.
Vicky switched off her flashlight
.
Oh
,
no.
Oh
,
no.
Try not to panic
. She turned in a circle, reversed, her heart rate ratcheting up to aerobic level. She raced over to the wardrobe and hustled in just as the door opened. She eased between two garments.
Damn
,
damn
,
damn
.
Hank and Deborah had returned.
Chapter Sixteen
Ryan glanced at the cards in his hands. Not good, but not bad, either. He picked a peanut from the bowl and started munching. Meagan James wore a green dealer’s hat, and waited for his decision.
“Hit me,” he told her, and took the card she dealt him. He looked over at Hank. “So, tell me, Hank, have you always been a truck driver?”
Hank laughed. “I haven’t had to drive a rig for about two years. No, I’m behind the desk now, running the business.”
Ryan decided to fold. He wasn’t here to win. He was here for information. “You must be doing pretty good,” Ryan said, gesturing casually to the luxurious guest lounge.
Hank nodded. “Yep, we do. And I’ve worked for every penny of it.” He eyed Ryan meaningfully, and Ryan couldn’t help the lift to his lips at the man’s dig at his “inheritance.” “But before that, I worked briefly as a sheriff’s deputy.”
Ryan’s eyebrow rose. “Really?” He held up Hank’s glass, careful to only touch the tip of the rim and gestured to Drew.
Drew cocked an eyebrow before walking over, quickly replacing his expression with a polite smile. “Yes, sir?”
“Another cider for my good friend, here,” Ryan said, grinning.
Drew held the tray out so that Ryan could place the glass on it without further handling. “Certainly. Would anyone else care for another drink?”
Jennifer nodded, while Jeffrey and Margie shook their heads, and Drew left. Ryan checked his hand. That was at least another round of fingerprints Drew could send off to Luke for checking.
Meagan dropped a couple of cards, and apologized as she reshuffled them before dealing another round.
Hank shrugged. “Not for long, though. I wasn’t really cut out for that kind of work.”
“What do you mean?” Margie asked as she glanced at her cards, and made a face. The woman clearly didn’t understand the term “poker face.”
Hank threw some chips down on the green felt mat and tapped the table twice, waiting for Meagan to deal the extra cards before answering. “You see a lot of the dark side of human nature. I’m not just talking drunk and disorderly and drug dealing—although we had plenty of that in my area—I mean domestic abuse, rape, murder. I was working with men who’d made a career out of the police force, and it really affected them.”
Margie nodded. “I can imagine.”
Ryan doubted it. Elliot entered the room and came up to greet his wife.
“Hi, beautiful. Wow, this looks great.” He rubbed his hands together, grinning.
“You made it,” Jennifer said, her words clipped. She didn’t look up from the cards in her hand.
Elliot did a little shuffle that looked like a really bad imitation of the moonwalk. Kurt and Paula cheered him, and went back to their air guitar duel. “Yeah, I’m feeling much better.”
Ryan looked around the room. Wait—where was Deborah? His stomach tightened. “Would Deborah like to join the next round?” He asked Hank, keeping his tone casual.
Hank shook his head. “Nah. She took off a little while ago. She can’t stand gambling, even if it’s just for kicks. Her old man had a gambling problem. She’s decided to go rest up for tomorrow’s program.”
Ryan kept his expression relaxed, although his grip tightened momentarily on his cards. Vicky was in Deborah’s cabin. She was about to be discovered. He looked up at Elliot, and smiled. “Want to take my spot? I’m feeling a little tired myself.” He glanced at Meagan. “Didn’t realize it would be so draining.”
She smiled and nodded, before dealing another card to Margie.
Margie looked at it, and then grimaced. “Damn. That’s not going to help.”
Ryan stood aside while Elliot slid into his chair, then proceeded to don his coat and cap with a casual ease. As soon as he was out of the main resort building he bolted for the nearby garage.
* * *
“Oh, yes, baby, that’s what I like,” Hank said. Vicky shuddered, and tried to burrow deeply and silently into the hanging garments. She was sure her face was glowing, her cheeks were so hot.
Just get it over and done with
. She fisted her hands against her thighs, trying to quell her trembling. A thin mirrored door stood between her and detection.
“Like that, huh?” Deborah laughed throatily, and Vicky cringed at the sucking sounds coming from the bedroom.
Hell.
This is definitely hell
. She’d thought the counseling session was hell, but no. Listening in on another couple making love was a whole new level of low.
“Come here, you,” Hank growled, and Vicky absently noted how different he sounded in the throes of passion.
Ugh
. She wished the floor of the wardrobe would just open up and swallow her.
“Oh, but nurse isn’t finished yet,” Deborah replied, then squealed as the sound of flesh hitting flesh carried to Vicky’s ears. Vicky flinched and covered her ears with her hands.
La
,
la
,
lah.
Damn, she could still hear them.
“Well, this doctor has something very special for you,” Hank said, and Deborah moaned.
Vicky lifted her hands from her ears and frowned.
Wait a minute
. That really didn’t sound like Hank. She didn’t want to look. But she did want to know who it was. No, she didn’t, they were having sex, for Chrissakes. Well, yeah, she did, but not if it meant spying on a couple when they were being intimate.
The noises from the bed were getting louder, more frenzied. Vicky shut her eyes.
“Oh, yeah, that’s it, baby,” the man groaned.
Okay, she really wanted to know who was screwing who. She cautiously peeked out around the edge of the wardrobe door just as Deborah cried out, “Oh, yes, Gavin. Yes, yes!”
Vicky’s jaw dropped and she covered her mouth with her hands, her eyes wide as she jerked her head back behind the cover of the door.
Oh.
My.
God!
Gavin Dryden was shtooping Deborah. And now the image was scorched into her retinas. She wanted to dig her eyes out with a nail file.
Wait until Ryan found out! She frowned. Was that allowed? Wasn’t there some sort of doctor-patient rule about sleeping with your therapist? Like, you couldn’t?
Gavin was grunting, and Vicky bit on her finger to prevent a giggle from escaping. He sounded like a snuffling pig. She shook her head as she waited for the couple to finish.
Hell.
Yep
,
hell
.
With a couple more grunts, a squeal from Deborah that had Vicky wincing and a chorused “Ahh,” it was over. Vicky rested her head against the door.
Thank God it’s over
.
The couple sighed, and Vicky straightened.
Oh
,
please don’t go to sleep
. She wanted to get out of here, scrub her ears and eyes, get blind drunk, burn the memory out of her mind, something. If they fell asleep, she could be stuck here for ages.
“Hey, you can’t sleep here,” Deborah giggled, and Vicky nodded.
You tell him
,
girlfriend
. “Hank could be here soon.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Why don’t we take a shower. I’ll scrub your back if you scrub mine,” Deborah said in a sing-song voice.
Gavin chuckled. “You’re insatiable.”
“Just let me get my robe,” Deborah said, and sheets rustled. Vicky’s eyes widened. She was coming to the wardrobe! She tried to melt back into the garments, then she spied a floral silk robe on a hanger behind her. Deborah reached the door just as Gavin called out to her.
“You look just as good walking away as you do when you’re coming.”
There was a flash of breast and hip, as Deborah turned and giggled at him, her hand reaching inside the wardrobe. “You are so naughty, Dr. Dryden,” she murmured.
Vicky held the hanger out to Deborah’s grasping hand, dodging the woman’s fingers as she first grasped the silken material, then yanked it off the hanger.
“This was such a good idea of yours, this retreat,” Deborah said, and Vicky heard footsteps padding across carpet to the marble bathroom floor. “You’re right, it’s much better than a quickie in your office.”
The bathroom door shut on the muted giggles and squeals. Vicky brushed aside the other clothes and bolted out of the wardrobe, taking deep breaths as though she’d been deprived of oxygen in the closet. Her thighs burned from the position she’d stood in, petrified to move in case the slightest noise gave her away. Now, her legs shook, just a little.
She shuddered as she heard another squeal, followed by a masculine groan, from the bathroom. If she hadn’t needed therapy before this, she would now. So close to freedom.
Get the hell out!
She ran to the cabin’s front door and cracked it open. Her heart was pounding. She felt like she was going to either throw up or pee. Maybe both. She glanced outside wildly. She didn’t want to accidentally run into Hank in her bid for escape.
The coast was clear. She left the cabin, taking deep, dragging breaths as she ran across the snow to the cover of trees. What if they looked out a window? What if one of the resort staff saw her? Crap. What if Hank returned and she ran into him? She didn’t stop as she ran to the trees, her legs pumping as she jumped over a fallen log, exposed roots, and ducked under branches.
An arm grabbed her from behind, swinging her around.