Right from the Gecko Read Online Free PDF Page B

closet door is open, but you probably left it that way yourself, I thought, determined to convince myself that I was imagining things. The same went for those two dresser drawers. And Nick must have dragged the suitcase and my beige canvas tote bag out of the closet before he left this morning and I just didn’t notice it before.
    Even so, I searched the room. The fact that I still wasn’t sure if I was just imagining things made me all the more anxious to figure out if anything was missing. The contents of my pocketbook appeared to be intact. All my cash was still in my wallet, along with my credit cards and driver’s license.
    Nick’s wallet, which he’d left in the back pocket of the jeans lying at the bottom of the closet, was also untouched. The little bit of jewelry I’d brought along was safe in the top drawer of the dresser. The same went for my watch, which was still sitting on the night table.
    And then I focused on the top of the dresser. Or more accurately, I realized that something was
missing
from the top of the dresser.
    The sealed brown envelope that contained my conference materials.
    I stood frozen, staring at the big empty space where it should have been, since that was precisely the spot in which I’d deposited it the day before. In fact, I remembered noticing it as I undressed for my shower. I’d tossed my T-shirt next to it on the dresser, thinking I really should take five minutes to look through it, decide how much of its contents was worth lugging home, and throw the rest out.
    The T-shirt was now lying on the floor in a heap.
    A sick feeling lodged itself in the pit of my stomach as the entire scenario began to unfold in my mind. While I was in the shower, someone had broken in, taken the envelope, and hightailed it out of there, slamming the door on the way out.
    But I was also confused. Why on earth would somebody want to steal my registration packet?
    As the most likely answer came to me, a wave of heat traveled through my entire body. Within seconds, the room began feeling uncomfortably warm, even though the air-conditioning was turned way up.
    The missing envelope looked a lot like the one Marnie had left behind—and it clearly contained an audiotape, just as Marnie’s did. What if the intruder had taken what he or she thought was the envelope the eager young reporter had left here in my hotel room?
    That’s crazy! I insisted to myself. You’re
really
getting carried away this time.
    But in my head, I replayed the voice-mail message I’d left on Marnie’s cell phone shortly before she was murdered. In it, I said she’d left a brown envelope behind, mentioned that I thought there was an audiocassette inside, and given the name of my hotel and the number of my hotel room.
    I’d practically left a road map for anyone who was interested in getting hold of the cassette that was in Marnie’s envelope.
    I dashed over to the night table and pulled open the drawer. Sure enough, Marnie’s envelope was exactly where I’d left it, right on top of the phone book. I took it out and, holding my breath, slit open the top with the plastic pen I found next to the phone. Just as I’d suspected, there was an audiocassette inside. And nothing else.
    I sank onto the edge of the bed, clutching my towel tightly around me. My thoughts raced as I tried to cling to the idea that I was simply imagining the whole thing. Frankly, I wasn’t having much success.
    When I heard a key card being inserted into the lock, my heart began to pound wildly.
    â€œNick?” I called hopefully.
    â€œOne and the same,” he replied as he tromped in, his damp hair matted around his face and his mask and fins tucked under his arm. Instead of the skintight Speedo he’d worn the last time he and I were on Maui—a garment I’d teased him about nonstop—he was wearing a baggy boxer-style jobbie that, if you used your imagination, made him