19 Yellow Moon Road (Sisterhood #33)

*

Gabby’s legs were burning, and she cursed herself for not grabbing a bottle of water before she left. With no money, she had no choice but to keep pushing forward until she made it to safety or collapsed. She decided to take a short break and pulled the bike under an overpass, where she could be in some shade. She was soaked in perspiration; her hair was dripping wet. She massaged her calves before climbing back onto the thread-worn seat. Another forty-five minutes should get her there. Somewhere near the university, she got her second wind and began to pump the bike harder. She knew she wasn’t far now. She tried to imagine what she looked like to the early-morning commuters. Another homeless soul. But then it occurred to her, What if they don’t let me into the hotel? I look like a vagrant, or someone who escaped from a mental hospital. Her messy white garb would certainly suggest the latter.

With only the driveway between her and the entrance, she decided to walk the rest of the way and give her fanny a break. She didn’t know which hurt more, her thighs, her calves, her feet, or her tush. Her hands were also feeling a bit tense from gripping the handlebars. She did a mental scan of her body. Pretty much everything hurt. As she limped toward the doorman, she gave him her winning smile. “Took a bit of a tumble on my ride this morning,” she lied.

The doorman looked at her sympathetically. “Done it myself. Can I help you with anything?” He opened one of the side doors instead of having her go through the revolving door.

“I’m fine. Really. But if you could put that hunk of junk somewhere, I’ll fetch it in a bit. It’s my baby sister’s. Why she keeps it, I don’t know, but she’d kill me if she knew I had mangled it.” Gabby wasn’t sure what she was most impressed with, her ability to make up another lie or her ability to remain vertical.

“No problem, miss. Name is Mike.” He pointed to his name tag. That was a hint as to whom she should tip later.

“Thank you so very much.” Gabby turned to enter the second door as another doorman on the inside pulled it open. “Hi. A little argument with a bicycle.” Gabby snickered.

Gabby glanced around the lobby to see where the house phones were kept and spotted one at a table near the concierge’s desk.

Her hands were shaking as the hotel operator answered. “How can I help you?”

“Maggie Spritzer, please.” Gabby’s voice was also shaking.

When the hotel room phone rang, everyone jumped. They were not expecting to hear from anyone on the landline, although Maggie was becoming a popular favorite with room service.

“Hello?” Maggie asked cautiously.

“Maggie. It’s Gabby. I’m in the lobby.” Gabby was whispering.

“The lobby? Here?” Maggie was stunned.

“Yes. Here. The Biltmore.” Gabby kept looking over her shoulder. Ever since that day at the airport, she had felt as if someone were either watching her or following her. And she was correct. About a hundred yards from the main entrance, a black SUV pulled in.

“I think I’m being followed. What room are you in?” Gabby was almost gasping for air.

“Room 1011,” Maggie barked.

Gabby saw one of the men get out of the car, and she moved quickly toward the elevator bank. Worried that he might have spotted her, she pushed the eleventh and twelfth floor buttons. She would get off at eleven and hike down one flight of stairs. And she prayed her legs could do one last push.

When the elevator bell dinged, she wavered as she got off, looking in each direction for the stairwell. There was one only a few feet away. She kept repeating in her head, You can do this, you can do this. She was so weary that she used both hands as she took each step one at a time. She yanked on the door, not caring if it set off an alarm. She had to get to Maggie.

Maggie, Yoko, and Alexis stood ready at the door. They didn’t know if Gabby was alone.

Maggie looked through the peephole in the door and saw Gabby stumbling down the hallway. Maggie and Alexis quickly scrambled to get her, while Yoko held the door open. They placed Gabby’s arms around their necks and practically dragged her into the room.

Yoko went into the bathroom and brought back a couple of wet washcloths and a towel. Maggie opened a bottle of water and handed it to Gabby, while Alexis grabbed a robe for her. Gabby went into the bathroom and splashed water on her face, slipped off her rags, and enveloped her worn-out body in the plush hotel wrap.

“First things first.” Maggie took Gabby’s hands and looked her straight in the eye. “Are you okay? Do you need a doctor?”

Gabby wiped her face with one washcloth and placed the other on her forehead. “I’ll be okay. No need for a doctor. I’m just a bit weary and dehydrated.” She took a big swig of water. “Now my first question is, who are those men and why are they following me?”

“I think the bigger question is how did they find you?” Maggie was thinking like a reporter now. “This is the second time. I’m not trying to be funny, but did they ever give you some kind of tattoo, or piercing?”

Gabby sighed. “No. Nothing like that.”

“Do you wear the same clothes? You know, clothes that are assigned specifically to you?” Maggie continued.

“Well, yes.”

Yoko immediately started feeling through the hems of Gabby’s clothes. She shook her head.

Gabby was twirling her ring and twisting her brain to come up with an answer. At that moment, everyone stopped in their tracks. The ring.

Maggie put out her hand and motioned for Gabby to take it off and give it to her. It was on tight. Yoko slathered Gabby’s finger with lotion and gently slid it off.

The next questions that struck Maggie were: How wired up is the ring? Is it simply a GPS device, or does it have broadcast capabilities such as audio or video? Is it a secret camera?

Maggie put her fingers on her lips to indicate that everyone should remain silent. Maggie pulled out a pad of paper and began to write: Need to tell Charles. I’ll be in the other room.

Maggie took a photo of the ring and disappeared into the bedroom. She quickly dialed Charles’s number and explained that Gabby had found her way to the hotel, men had followed her, and it appears the ring was some kind of tracking device. She needed to know the extent of the technology before they could decide their next move.

*

Fern Michaels's books