She and Aidan both froze with him looking down at her, smiling as he breathed hard and his heart thundered.
“Dog,” he muttered. “I guess I have to let him know I didn’t hurt you.”
“I will!” Mo said.
She leaped up, dragging the sheet with her, and opened the door to the hallway. Rollo looked at her, barking.
“Not used to me having a life, eh, boy?” she asked. “I’m okay. Go back to sleep!” Rollo evidently believed her. He barked again, walked in a circle, then found a place on the floor.
She walked back into the bedroom and laughed, looking at Aidan.
“I beg your pardon?”
He was simply worn-out, but his physical perfection, the way his head rested on the pillows and his body reclined on the bed, reminded her of a classic sculpture.
“No, no, not laughing at you. I’m happy, that’s all,” she said, running over to join him. She slid in next to him, curling up against his side, and he kissed her again. A moment later, she became fascinated with his shoulders. “What’s this scar?” she asked.
“I took a bullet.”
“And you do that often?”
“Not as often as you might think. An awful lot of what we do in the FBI is research.”
She frowned, finding another scar. “Bullet, too?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I fell climbing a fence when I was ten,” he told her. His eyes glittered teasingly. “Did you want to make a thorough inspection?” he asked.
She smiled and crawled on top of him. “I intend to. Very thorough,” she said, and leaned down to press her lips to his chest.
And then she heard his phone ring. Another inopportune call, she thought. Another interruption. It was in the pocket of his jeans, down at the foot of the bed.
Their eyes met. Neither of them wanted to answer it. And yet they both moved to do so at the same time.
Mo reached his jeans first and handed them to him. He dug in the pocket and pulled out his cell. She watched his face. “I’ll be there as soon as possible,” he was saying. “And, yes, I’ll have Mo and Rollo.”
He hung up and looked at Mo. “Jimmy Voorhaven, Debbie Howell and J.J. have disappeared.”
“What? How is that possible?”
He let out a breath. “Voorhaven took the two of them to a restaurant near the hotel to get something to eat. They didn’t come back.”
*
Aidan was glad he was with his Krewe. By the time they got to the hotel, everyone there had already rolled into action. Will and Sloan had taken off to check out Jimmy’s home, Debbie’s place and the Appleby residence. Jane was staying put, scanning the cameras. Logan had gone to speak with Jillian Durfey, Taylor Branch and the security trio. None of the five had left the hotel; the Krewe was aware of that because Will Chan’s cameras had been monitoring the halls and doorways.
When Van Camp had arrived to relieve Jimmy, the detective and his charges had apparently just left. So he’d waited. But then Jimmy, Debbie and J.J. hadn’t come back.
Jillian was in the hallway. Taylor was there, too. He had an arm around Jillian’s shoulders.
“I told you I was set up!” Jillian insisted. “And now...where are they?”
“They’re probably fine,” Taylor said. “You didn’t see the two of them together, did you?” he asked, turning to Aidan. “Debbie seemed to idolize that detective, and I’m sure he noticed. They might have headed out to spend some time together without being watched.”
“With a young boy?” Logan didn’t hide his skepticism. “Hardly.”
Rollo was given pieces of clothing that belonged to Jimmy Voorhaven, Debbie Howell and J.J. They started behind the restaurant, where Rollo barked and paced in circles, then tugged at his leash, urging them back to the hotel. At the parking lot, he made his way to the rear—a shaded spot away from the security cameras near the restaurant.
“They got into a car here,” Mo said. “Rollo can’t take us much farther unless we have a place to begin.”
“A tomb or a vault,” Aidan said. “A cemetery.”
Mo looked at him, her eyes wide.
“Which one?” he asked her. “I’d thought the killer would stick to one area, but we found his first lair—and we found the second.”
“They must’ve been taken by surprise,” Van Camp said. “Jimmy’s a good cop. He loves kids, too. He’d have died for that boy in a heartbeat.”
“Unless...” Aidan said.
“What?” Van Camp demanded.
“Unless Jimmy is in on it somehow.”
“No. No way,” Van Camp said firmly. “You don’t know Jimmy.”
“And,” Logan pointed out, “Jimmy was here—at the hotel—when Sondra was killed last night. Debbie, too.”
Aidan hesitated uncomfortably. “Granted, it’s not likely but it could be one of them,” he said. “We haven’t really considered Debbie, but we know that two people were involved. At least two people.”