“Okay.” Her voice sounded faint even to her own ears. She opened the door wider, stepping back so he could enter, but he held up his hand.
He was holding another little envelope with a key card inside. “I’m next door,” he said.
It should have been relief that pumped through her stomach, then. “Okay,” she said, even fainter than before.
He gave her a close look. “I figured you’d prefer some privacy.”
She made herself nod.
He took a step back, one foot still in the room, one foot out. “There’s a connecting door.”
She automatically looked and saw there was, indeed, a locked door on the side of the room next to the closet.
Again, she made herself nod.
She knew she had to be imagining what seemed to be hesitancy on his part to actually leave the room.
“I’ll be fine,” she said more forcefully. She gestured toward the bathroom where all of the fixtures were conveniently located in one space. “Big bathtub. Can’t wait.”
His gaze shifted to the side, as if confirming the fact that there was, indeed, a big bathtub. “Knock on the door when you’re ready to eat.”
She hugged her arms again and nodded.
Finally seeming satisfied, he removed his foot from her doorway and it swung closed, leaving her alone.
Her shoulders sagged.
She turned and looked at the two beds. The connecting door.
“You should be glad, Laurel.”
Why wasn’t she?
She reached up to the thermostat on the wall and turned the temperature up several notches.
Then she sat down on the bed closest to it.
She bounced slightly. Stood and turned around to sit on the second.
It was identical to the first.
And despite the long hours in the car, the many miles they’d traveled that day, she wasn’t the least bit inclined to rest. The television held no interest, though she made a stab by flipping through every station it offered. And the big bathtub most certainly could wait until later.
She got up again and tucked the key card in her back pocket and left the room. She was proud of the way her footsteps barely slowed when she passed the room next to hers. Not so proud of the gnawing thought that he was probably on the phone again to his pretty blonde Ashley.
When she’d taken the elevator earlier, she’d seen the signs pointing out the direction of the pool, the fitness center and the guest laundry. She bypassed them all for the complimentary business center.
Once inside, she was alone with the three computers situated against each wall.
She sat at the first one and made a small sound when she noticed the Robinson Tech insignia on the monitor. The screen leaped to vibrant life when she touched the mouse, and she opened the internet browser and began typing.
She wasn’t sure exactly what she hoped to find.
She searched Rambling Rose, Texas, and found a simple municipal website featuring a photo of a very attractive woman. Ellie Hernandez Fortune. Mayor.
Good for you, Ellie.
She poked the mouse and the mayor’s image disappeared. She skimmed a few blog posts about activities around town. An ice cream social at a medical center. Something called Mariana’s Market featuring live music and a new food truck. She even read through the notice of an upcoming town council meeting.
She tucked her hands between her knees, staring blindly at the screen while her pulse ramped up. She hadn’t come down here to look up Rambling Rose. Pretending otherwise was just more cowardice.
She swallowed hard and set her hands back on the keyboard. She added more terms to her search and hit the mouse again. The results were so immediate that she snatched her hands away and stared at the picture of Eric Johnson. A much larger picture of him than the one that had been in the video.
A link to an article titled “Museum Benefactor and Business Owner Shows Philanthropic Side” accompanied the image.
She warily probed the nervousness tightening her chest but decided it was no worse now than it had been when she sat down at the computer.
His hair was brown. Shades and shades lighter than Adam’s. Lighter than her own, really. Less Van Dyke brown, more raw umber. His eyes were gray and seemed to have a cool shrewdness to them.
He was a business owner, she reasoned. Shouldn’t a business owner be shrewd?
She touched the mouse again, opening up the link beneath the headline. She expected an article about his philanthropy. She ended up at the website for his trucking company named JLI.
She started to close the browser but stopped. She’d been engaged to marry the man. He was the father of her child. She tucked her hands between her knees again and made herself read more but after ten minutes, she felt like her eyes were crossing. Logistics and supply chains and warehouse solutions were about as interesting as watching mud dry.
She closed the JLI site and then, feeling like she was sneaking into places she didn’t belong, she typed Adam Fortune. Then Provisions.
She ended up with a bunch of results for someone’s obituary in Florida.
She added the word Ashley, which didn’t change the results in the least.
She sighed and propped her elbow on the table next to the keyboard. Then she typed in Constance Silberman Doing Good and the familiar video bloomed to life. But she couldn’t make it all the way through the video.
Not anymore. Not knowing that she was the baby’s mother. Was it her fault he’d gotten sick?
Delete, delete, delete.
She ferociously jabbed the key repeatedly until all of her search words disappeared, leaving her back at the Rambling Rose municipal site.
She clicked on the ice cream social link and recognized the doctor in the picture as the same one from the Silberman video. Below the announcement for the social was a stream of comments that updated even as she read through a few.
Another chance for me to make a glutton of myself, one person posted, with a smiley face after it. Can’t wait!
Smiling slightly, Laurel scrolled further down the screen.
And then her smile died.
Chapter Nine
Adam knocked
