any sleep?”
“A little. Brad, what about my car?”
He sucked in a slow breath and shook his head regretfully. “Well, kiddo, we towed your car in this morning. Looks like you’re gonna need a new one. The motor’s ruined.”
Alana closed her eyes. “What about my camera and my luggage at the hotel?”
Brad’s gaze plunged to the floor.
“Lane, they weren’t at the hotel. They were in the trunk of your car. Your purse, your camera case, and your luggage with the laptop inside. Even your credit cards and the two one hundred dollar bills in your wallet were still there.”
“What?” Her brow wrinkled in confusion. “I don’t understand. I told you—I gave one of those bills to the man at the hotel to pay for my room.” Her voice increased in volume.
Brad rubbed her on the arm. “Calm down, Lane. We’re short-handed because of this flu bug, but Bo and Kent are there now talking to the manager. They’ll do a thorough job and let us know what they find.”
Alana shook her head. “I don’t understand. I was there. I remember the room number—three-thirteen. I saw the weird picture hanging over the bed. I wouldn’t make all these things up, Brad. Go to the hotel and see if it’s not just like I described.”
“Bo’s checking on it, Alana. Be patient. We’ll figure it out, I promise.”
Thoughts of eyes, dark and sinister, flashed before Alana’s eyes. She hoped they would figure it out—and soon.
SEVEN
A LITTLE WHILE LATER, A dull knock sounded on the hospital door. Chet Fabian and his friend and cruising partner, Elliott Morris, stuck their heads inside the door.
“Can we come in?”
Brad raised his head. “Hey, fellas. Come on in.”
Brad shook hands with Chet first and then Elliott as they ambled into the room.
Alana dried the tears from her face as the two policemen crossed the tile floor—both dressed in sharply pressed uniforms. She watched as Chet, the newest rookie of the department, stepped boldly up to the bed. Concern burned above the pudgy, dark circles under his eyes as he patted Alana’s arm.
“Alana, I know I’m new at the department, but I want you to know we’re gonna find this guy.”
Short and rounded, Chet’s cocky personality constantly pushed anyone away who might be interested in making friends. His ash-colored hair was slicked down with some kind of men’s gel, and his eyes behind the dark-rimmed glasses flashed self-assurance and an all-important attitude. In spite of the showy front, Alana could hear the warmth and determination framing his words.
Once again, tears blurred her vision and clogged her throat so she couldn’t speak. She put her hand on Chet’s—still resting on her hand—and smiled her appreciation.
Elliott stepped forward and handed her an arrangement of cut flowers—geraniums, daisies, and baby’s breath.
“Oh, they’re beautiful, Elliott. Thank you.” Alana smelled the flowers and placed them on her tray where she could see them.
Elliott stood back, and grinned.
Elliott, tall, blonde, and a little on the aloof side, was a two-year member of Brad’s force and was famous for his patience and common sense. Brad told Alana how Elliott tolerated Chet’s friendship in spite of his arrogant disposition because of their intertwined backgrounds. After growing up in the same neighborhood—their houses only a block apart—Chet and Elliott shared the same high school classes, the same criminal justice degree in college, and graduated from the police academy on the same day.
Elliott joined the Landeville City Police Department immediately after his graduation, but it was two years before Chet could apply. Alana remembered the day Chet’s father had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease —the day after Chet walked across the stage to accept his diploma from the police academy. Chet spent two years taking care of his father followed by settling his estate when he died. Two months ago, when Chet came to Brad for a job, Brad
“A little. Brad, what about my car?”
He sucked in a slow breath and shook his head regretfully. “Well, kiddo, we towed your car in this morning. Looks like you’re gonna need a new one. The motor’s ruined.”
Alana closed her eyes. “What about my camera and my luggage at the hotel?”
Brad’s gaze plunged to the floor.
“Lane, they weren’t at the hotel. They were in the trunk of your car. Your purse, your camera case, and your luggage with the laptop inside. Even your credit cards and the two one hundred dollar bills in your wallet were still there.”
“What?” Her brow wrinkled in confusion. “I don’t understand. I told you—I gave one of those bills to the man at the hotel to pay for my room.” Her voice increased in volume.
Brad rubbed her on the arm. “Calm down, Lane. We’re short-handed because of this flu bug, but Bo and Kent are there now talking to the manager. They’ll do a thorough job and let us know what they find.”
Alana shook her head. “I don’t understand. I was there. I remember the room number—three-thirteen. I saw the weird picture hanging over the bed. I wouldn’t make all these things up, Brad. Go to the hotel and see if it’s not just like I described.”
“Bo’s checking on it, Alana. Be patient. We’ll figure it out, I promise.”
Thoughts of eyes, dark and sinister, flashed before Alana’s eyes. She hoped they would figure it out—and soon.
SEVEN
A LITTLE WHILE LATER, A dull knock sounded on the hospital door. Chet Fabian and his friend and cruising partner, Elliott Morris, stuck their heads inside the door.
“Can we come in?”
Brad raised his head. “Hey, fellas. Come on in.”
Brad shook hands with Chet first and then Elliott as they ambled into the room.
Alana dried the tears from her face as the two policemen crossed the tile floor—both dressed in sharply pressed uniforms. She watched as Chet, the newest rookie of the department, stepped boldly up to the bed. Concern burned above the pudgy, dark circles under his eyes as he patted Alana’s arm.
“Alana, I know I’m new at the department, but I want you to know we’re gonna find this guy.”
Short and rounded, Chet’s cocky personality constantly pushed anyone away who might be interested in making friends. His ash-colored hair was slicked down with some kind of men’s gel, and his eyes behind the dark-rimmed glasses flashed self-assurance and an all-important attitude. In spite of the showy front, Alana could hear the warmth and determination framing his words.
Once again, tears blurred her vision and clogged her throat so she couldn’t speak. She put her hand on Chet’s—still resting on her hand—and smiled her appreciation.
Elliott stepped forward and handed her an arrangement of cut flowers—geraniums, daisies, and baby’s breath.
“Oh, they’re beautiful, Elliott. Thank you.” Alana smelled the flowers and placed them on her tray where she could see them.
Elliott stood back, and grinned.
Elliott, tall, blonde, and a little on the aloof side, was a two-year member of Brad’s force and was famous for his patience and common sense. Brad told Alana how Elliott tolerated Chet’s friendship in spite of his arrogant disposition because of their intertwined backgrounds. After growing up in the same neighborhood—their houses only a block apart—Chet and Elliott shared the same high school classes, the same criminal justice degree in college, and graduated from the police academy on the same day.
Elliott joined the Landeville City Police Department immediately after his graduation, but it was two years before Chet could apply. Alana remembered the day Chet’s father had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease —the day after Chet walked across the stage to accept his diploma from the police academy. Chet spent two years taking care of his father followed by settling his estate when he died. Two months ago, when Chet came to Brad for a job, Brad
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