Considering, she looked up, and then, closed her fists tight.
Two smoke detectors?
One of them had to be a dummy—and that flashing light a camera—not a battery indicator.
She clenched her jaw.
Isaiah had been watching her.
In her bedroom at night.
That sick bastard.
But would this be enough for Samuels? He’d seen the tracker on her car with his own eyes, taken custody of the menacing note, and still, he hadn’t believed her. He’d taken the easy way out, accusing her aunt.
Accusing Mia.
Should she get out of here, now, or take the time to search Isaiah’s room? Even if Samuels took her at her word, unlike Mia, he’d need a warrant to search Isaiah’s belongings—and that would give Isaiah an opportunity to get rid of evidence. But if she found something in his room, something that closed the loop between him and the camera hidden in that dummy smoke alarm, it would be the nail that hammered her case shut.
Her heart banged against her rib cage—she knew what she had to do.
With her hand over her mouth, she crept out her door and down the hall until she reached the back stairway—the one leading to the third floor and Isaiah’s quarters.
Maybe his door would be locked.
Maybe the Coopers, or Isaiah himself, would come back early and catch her sneaking into his room.
She put a hand on each rail, and then steadily, stealthily climbed the steps.
At the top, just past the landing, a door stood slightly ajar, light pouring from the room beyond it.
Holding her breath, she pushed open the door.
Waited.
No one came thundering around a corner or flying out of the room so she stepped inside. Isaiah’s bed was unmade, but otherwise the room was tidy. A shelf against the far wall held books arranged in an orderly fashion by size and type—hardbacks on the top shelves, paperbacks filling the lower half. An open laptop, facing away from her sat on a desk similar to the one in her room.
A guitar hung by its strap from a hook on a closet door.
The closet held promise, but the laptop was pure gold. She’d grab it, and then get the hell out before the others came home.
Let the Coopers accuse her of theft.
She didn’t give a single damn.
A few steps forward… and then a door slammed shut behind her.
She whirled to find Isaiah glowering at her.
“What are you doing in my room, Mia?”
Her knees threatened to give way, but she could still salvage this if she kept her cool.
He didn’t know she’d found the camera.
Unless he’d been laying a trap, unless he’d been watching her search!
“I was looking for you.” Mustering all her courage, she squared her gaze with his.
“I told you I was leaving the house.”
“You weren’t gone long. I heard your car, so I thought I’d come up to finish our conversation. I didn’t like the way we left it between us.” How had she missed the sound of his car returning up the drive?
“You should knock before barging into someone’s room.”
“I did knock. Where the heck did you come from anyway—a secret passageway or something?” She laughed, amazed at how easily the lies came, the way her knees had stiffened up and her survival instincts had kicked in.
His smile tightened. “It’s odd you heard my car return, since I never left the house. I just pulled into the garage so you’d think I’d gone. I wanted you to feel comfortable. Then I came up here to my lair.” He paused. “I’ve been hanging out in the study since then.”
“I guess I was wrong, and yet here you are. You have a study up here?”
“In case you haven’t noticed, my parents are rich. It’s like a second house.”
He lounged against the door. The only way out would be to knock him down, which didn’t seem feasible—or else she could lure him away from the door, and then make a run for it.
“I didn’t know you played guitar,” she said.
He jerked his head back, bumping it against the door. “What do you want, Mia? I know you didn’t come up here to ask me to play you a tune. Be honest for once.”
“Okay.” She moved to the bed and balanced on the edge. “I have questions I’d like you to answer.”
He moved in closer, still blocking her escape, but at least there was space for her to get around him, now.
“Ask away,” he said.
“At the strip club, when the bouncer found us in the back room, before he kicked us out, he told you never to come back. He said it wasn’t your first offense.”
“It wasn’t.”
She bit her knuckle.
“I’m making you uncomfortable again. But you came to my room, so you can hardly blame me for that.”
“You want honesty? Then yes. I’m nervous. But I’m here to listen. To give you the benefit—”
“That’s big of you. How about I give you the benefit of the doubt that you came up to talk, not to snoop?”
“There may have been a little snooping intent, too. But what was the bouncer talking about?”
“Another time, he’d caught me in the back room arguing with a woman. With Celeste—though apparently he doesn’t realize it was her.”
“When was this?”
“About a week before she went missing. She found matches from the club in my pants pocket and, naturally, she assumed the worst.” He took another step closer.
From where she stood, she could reach the laptop, but she didn’t dare turn it toward her. “She thought you were drinking again.”
“I wasn’t. Not then. But she didn’t believe me. No one ever believes me because most of the time I’m lying—when it comes to my drinking. Celeste followed me to the club, and we got into a bad argument.”
Mia edged toward the desk. “So you went to enjoy the show, but you weren’t drinking. Have I got that right?”
He leaned in. “Even if I tell you
