“I woke up early,” I said, glancing at the clock. It was six forty-five now, but I’d been wide awake since around five, snapping the band on my wrist. My head throbbed dully.
Obviously, McAdam hadn’t called 911 last night; it was possible he hadn’t even seen my note. The hallway was deserted and silent, and no sign of Luca. Breakfast wouldn’t be ready yet. There was no certainty that even if McAdam got the note this morning, he’d do anything. He could think it was a joke and throw it away. He could tell Dr. Cerny and get us thrown out.
Not that I’d mind going home. In fact, that would be hunky-dory with me.
Heath groaned behind me. “Daphne, leave it. She’s a grown woman. She can stay in her room if she wants to. Cerny’s therapy is really intense. She may not want to talk to you. You should respect that. Give her space.”
“And if something happened to her, if she’s lost somewhere up on the mountain—”
“Or at the bottom of a cliff . . .” he said.
I glared at him, then turned my back.
“She’s not Chantal,” he said gently.
“I know.” A rustling sound and a couple of thumps rose from the foot of the far stairs. Luca, bringing up the breakfast trays. I closed the door a fraction of an inch more and positioned my eye at the crack.
“Good God,” Heath sighed. But I didn’t care. I was going to stay at the door until I saw something. Anything—McAdam or Glenys or anyone—and then I would make my move. From the bathroom, I heard the squeak of the faucet and the shower start to run. Fine, Heath. Take a leisurely shower even though a woman’s gone missing. Wouldn’t want your day inconvenienced in any way.
At last I spied Luca rounding the corner, bearing a single tray. Poor guy. He had to make three separate trips, three times a day, up those endless stairs. I was surprised the doc had the place wired up like the CIA, but he couldn’t manage to rig up some kind of dumbwaiter for poor Luca.
He stopped when he saw me, then pivoted, depositing the tray in front of the McAdams’ door, giving it a light rap. He nodded at me, then headed back down the hall to the back stairs. I thought of all the cameras, whirring away from the safety of their hiding places. I was just going to have to risk Dr. Cerny diagnosing me as a voyeur or paranoid or some other type of mentally ill person. I wasn’t leaving my post.
But the McAdams’ door never opened, and the tray sat untouched outside the room. When Luca returned with the next tray, he seemed to hesitate at the top of the stairs. I lifted my hand in greeting, and he deposited the tray in front of the Siefferts’ door. Before heading down again, he glanced back at me. I withdrew, leaving the door cracked wide enough to spot Glenys or her husband, if either one happened to retrieve their tray. Which they didn’t.
Presently Luca was back at the top of the stairs with our food. I hurriedly pushed the door closed and scuttled backward farther into the room, which was a ridiculous move, seeing as I’d obviously been watching him throughout the whole process. Still, when he rapped, I lunged forward, swung the door open, and smiled like I was astonished to find him there. He froze, bent halfway to the floor.
“Hi,” I said.
He straightened and gave me a look, but it wasn’t a friendly one like we’d shared in the kitchen. He seemed annoyed, maybe even angry. I stared back at him, either waiting to understand the hidden meaning behind his eyes, or daring him to speak—which he eventually did.
“Café da manh?.”
“Come in.” I beckoned him into the room, but he didn’t move. I stepped back, gestured to the table. He entered tentatively, like he thought Heath—or an angry bear—might come crashing in at any minute. “You can put it on the table,” I offered, and he did, as quickly as I’d ever seen any hotel room-service waiter do.
He started to back away, but then stopped. Slid his eyes toward the closed bathroom door.
I took a deep breath. Plunged right into the deep end. “He’s in the shower. And the cameras don’t record sound, I don’t think.” I held my breath. “I know you want to tell me something.”
His eyes flashed for a brief second, then he moved to the open door.
He spoke in heavily accented English, then melted back into the dark hallway.
“Look behind the mirror,” was all he said.
Friday, October 19
Night
The police receptionist—if that’s what they call her—is sitting at a small desk right inside the front door. The waiting area is lined with plastic chairs, and one of those huge, chainsaw-carved wood bears stands guard in the corner. When I tell her I need to speak to an officer because of something that’s happened up at Baskens, she gestures at the chairs.
“I’ll have an officer out to talk to you soon as I can. Can I get you something to drink?”
“Yes, please,” I say. I’m starting to feel light headed. Nauseated from the water I gulped down earlier. In my fog, I notice yet another TV, this one a flat-screen affixed to the wall beside the reception desk. No football game playing on this one, it’s the local Atlanta news.
“Co-cola? Sprite? Diet?”
I try to concentrate on what the woman is saying. “A Coke, please. Thanks.”
When she returns from the back—and presumably telling one of the officers I have a crime to report—she hands me a cold can. I pop the top and tip it up.
She slips behind her desk again.
“Oh. One more thing.” I hold up the iPad. It’s fogged and slick from being tucked against my sweaty back. “You wouldn’t happen to have a pair of earbuds, would you?” She can’t disguise a quick furrow of her brow, but she produces a pair of black earbuds from one of the desk drawers and hands them over.
“Thanks.”
She nods, but she doesn’t make eye contact. I wonder how long it’s going to be. There can’t be that much going on in Dunfree, Georgia, on a Friday night.
I return to my seat, plug in the earbuds, and tap in the numbers 5353. In the Notes section, I find the patient folders and click on Heath’s. When his voice fills my ears, goose bumps cover my body.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Friday, October 19
Morning
By the time Heath emerged from the shower, I was already well into breakfast. He joined me, digging energetically into the stack of pancakes. A lock of wet hair fell over his eye as he ate.
But all I could think of were Luca’s hazel eyes fastened onto mine, his voice in my ears.
Look behind the mirror.
Behind the mirror above the dresser in our room? Or some other mirror? I didn’t know. It was all he’d said.
My pulse was racing so fast now it felt like I was about to kick into a panic attack. I played with my food, pretending to eat, pushing the pancakes and bacon around. I’d broken into a sweat despite the frigid room.
I leapt up. “I’ll be right back.”
“Where you going?” Heath said, working his way through the pancakes.
“I left the book I was reading downstairs.”
“There you go, read a book. Much healthier than worrying about everybody else around here.”
“Back in a sec,” I chirped and scooted out of the room.
In the hallway both trays were still untouched. I still had a chance to make contact with Jerry McAdam. I tapped on the Siefferts’ door, but there was no answer. I moved on to the McAdams’ and knocked quietly.
“Mr. McAdam, it’s Daphne Amos.” There was no answer. I bounced on the balls of my feet. “Jerry, I really need to talk to you. I know you have a phone. So I need you to call the police for me. For Glenys Sieffert, okay? That’s her name. Glenys Sieffert. She and her husband are staying right next door to you. Just call 911, please.”
At the end of the hall, the pocket door was open. Beyond it, I could see that Dr. Cerny’s bedroom door was shut. He was either still inside or he was already downstairs in his office getting ready for the day. In either case, I had a chance to get up to the attic without him hearing me. I gauged the time. Soon Heath would be done eating, and Luca would be back up to collect everyone’s trays. I had to go now.
I made it up the stairs in seconds. The monitors were on, but the Sieffert screen showed nothing. No people. No activity. The room was empty.