The Wharf

Drawing her brows together, Kacie said, “I don’t think they had enough time if they were fooling around in the business center after they left the pool.”

The security guard turned to Ryan. “Sir, did you see anyone in the gym?”

“Nope.”

“The best I can do is talk to the boys if I see them again.” He wagged his finger at Kacie. “You need to be more careful, young lady. Didn’t your mama ever tell you to let someone know where you’re going at all times?”

Kacie covered her twitching lips with her hand. “No, sir, but that’s good advice.”

Wesley tugged his pants over his significant belly and sauntered away.

“Sorry about that, Ms. Manning. Wesley’s kind of old school.”

“I didn’t mind.”

“We do want to make this up to you, however. I’ll check with management, but I’m going to suggest we comp your stay with us, Ms. Manning.” He bent his head over his keyboard and started tapping.

“Thanks, Michael.” Kacie pointed at Ryan and mouthed the words You too?

He shook his head. He hadn’t been the one sweating it out in the sauna.

Michael looked up from his task. “Oh, this is a coincidence.”

“What is?” Kacie folded her hands on top of the counter.

“I left a message on your hotel phone earlier, probably when you were by the pool. I knew your name sounded familiar.”

“Oh? What was the message? I didn’t notice one on my phone.”

“It’s a package, actually. Some transient came in here with it, said a woman had dropped it out front. Your name was on it, and when I looked it up, I discovered you were a guest at the hotel.”

“A package?” She shoved back from the counter and shrugged at Ryan. “I wasn’t carrying anything except my purse when I walked back to the hotel tonight.”

Michael rubbed his chin. “It had your name on it. I put it in the back. I’ll get it.”

“That’s weird. I didn’t bring any package with me.”

“Maybe someone was supposed to deliver something to you and left it with a doorman or bellhop, and it got left outside. At least your name’s on it, and the transient brought it in here.”

“I hope it’s not important. That’s a pretty shabby way to treat something important.”

Michael scurried from the back, balancing a lumpy, brown paper−wrapped package on his outstretched palms. He presented it to Kacie, her name scribbled in black felt pen across the outside. “Here you go, Ms. Manning. If there’s anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thank you.” She took the package from his hands and spun around. “I’m going to open this now.”

She crossed the lobby and sank to the cushions of a love seat facing the door.

Ryan sat across from her and whipped out his knife. “Do you need something for the twine?”

“Yes, please.” She held the package out to him, and he sliced the blade through the twine wrapped around the brown paper. It covered something soft and shapeless.

Placing the package in her lap, Kacie began unwrapping it. When she folded back the last piece of paper, she gasped and jerked back.

He lunged out of his chair, falling on his knees in front of her. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Holding the object with the paper, she turned it toward him. A rag doll with blond braids smiled at him with her stitched-on mouth.

His pulse slowed down. “A doll? Are you a collector?”

She shook the toy at him, and the braids flopped back and forth. “This isn’t just some random doll.”

His gaze tracked from the black button eyes of the doll to Kacie’s own round eyes taking up half her face. “Obviously. What is it?”

“Daniel Walker’s daughter was clutching this doll when he murdered her.”

Chapter Three (#ulink_cf18eaa8-b680-5279-8c8f-eab875b15a68)

The doll grinned at her with a mouth that resembled a slash of blood, calling up images of the original doll at the Walker murder scene. Kacie pressed two shaky fingers to the red yarn on the rag doll’s face just to make sure it wasn’t blood.

“Kacie, what does this mean?”

She raised her head, her eyes locking onto Ryan’s as he put a steadying hand on her bouncing knee. The gesture had an immediate effect on her and she took a deep breath. She didn’t have to face this alone right now. “Zoe Walker had a doll just like this one. When they found her body, she had one arm wrapped around her doll—this doll.”

“I remember the doll from your book. This one’s not yours, is it?” He flicked the paper with his fingers.

“No. This is the first time I’ve seen a doll like this since I saw the original. Someone sent this to me. That homeless guy didn’t find a package outside the hotel. Someone probably paid him to deliver it to this hotel.”

As a shiver rolled through her body, she pushed the doll from her lap, where it landed on the carpet still cradled in the brown paper.

“Wait.” Ryan picked up two corners of the wrapping. “This might contain some evidence—fingerprints, hair, clothing fibers.”

She shifted away from the doll as he placed the package next to her on the cushion and carefully folded the paper around the toy.

“Do you want to tell me why someone would want to send this particular doll to you?” He sat back on his heels as if he had all night to wait for an explanation.

She had no intention of making him wait that long. Despite her revulsion toward all things Brody, she couldn’t deny the trust this man fostered in her bones.

He’d saved her from the sauna. His capable hands, square jaw and broad shoulders signaled stability and security. His green eyes reflected sincerity—when they weren’t darkening to something more like lust, which happened anytime they wandered over her body.

The fears of the night, beginning with the fratricidal ex-con, flooded her senses, and her pulse rate galloped a mile a minute. She filled her lungs with a deep breath from her nose and expelled it through parted lips to ward off the rising panic and rushing adrenaline.

“Kacie, are you okay?” Ryan squeezed her knee.

“Fighting off an anxiety attack.” She pointed to the ceiling. “I’ll tell you all about this doll and who sent it from the comfort of my own room while holding a glass of wine in one hand.”

“You got it.” He sprang to his feet and held out his hand. “I’ll help you up. One of my officers suffers from panic attacks, and she always gets a little dizzy.”

She gripped his warm hand and struggled to her feet. “You have a cop working for you who has panic attacks?”