“Not that we’re aware of,” he countered. Addy was in way too much of a hurry to dismiss this situation. Bottom line, he didn’t care who had come into her room. She wasn’t safe here, especially not alone.
“Does management maintain video surveillance here?” she asked.
Wyatt laughed. “No surveillance, and if the manager’s asked if he saw anyone hanging around, the answer will be no. But we’ll ask, just the same.”
Addy folded her arms over her chest and eyed the message on the mirror. “Next time I’ll have a surprise waiting for this bastard.”
“There won’t be a next time,” Wyatt informed her in no uncertain terms. “You’re not staying here another night. No negotiations.”
She turned to face him in the cramped bathroom. “I thought we’d gotten past that. You don’t own me, Wyatt, so stop acting like you do. I can take care of myself.”
Enough. “We don’t have a single clue as to this perp’s identity,” he reminded her. “No fingerprints. Nothing. We’re forced to wait for him to act and to hope that this time he’ll make a mistake and leave us something.”
“It’s not the first case like this you’ve had to deal with,” she countered. “Probably won’t be the last. Sometimes it’s just the way it goes.”
“You are the one link we have to him.” That was the part she was glossing over. “I’m not about to let anything happen to our one shot at getting this guy.” That didn’t come out the way he’d intended but he got the point across. The subtle shift from cocky to mildly uncertain in her expression was telling.
“You’re saying this is business,” she said warily, “not personal.”
“That’s right.” A muscle in his jaw throbbed irritatingly. There was no reason for her to know any differently. “Strictlyofficialbusiness.”
She laughed. “Good. I thought maybe you just wanted to finish what we’d started.” She squeezed between him and the sink but stopped shy of the door. “Because that’s not going to happen.”
17
Wiggins, Mississippi
Christmas Day; 7:00 a.m.
She was here.
The corners of his lips tugged into a smile. He’d been concerned she wouldn’t come.
Good little real estate agent. She didn’t want to miss out on a sale. It might look bad on her record. Especially since she had such lofty aspirations. So what if it was Christmas? The kids could wait.
That was just like a princess. Thought of no one but herself.Bitch.
Penny Arnold parked her car in the newly poured drive of the recently completed home in the highest-end development on her list of properties.
She’d worked so hard to get the builder to take her on. He had listened to one of her lunch meetings with the man. She hadn’t suspected for a moment that the quiet gentleman at the next table was there, not for lunch, but to learn what she was up to. To confirm his conclusions.
Poor Penny had practically begged for the opportunity.
She had assured the developer that she understood that there were others in the community with far more experience and considerably more clout, but no one would work harder than her. Shewould be available twenty-four seven. Princess Penny had gotten the contract.
Good for her.
Too bad she wouldn’t need it.
Not after today.
Merry Christmas, princess.
18
1708 Monroe Street
Pascagoula, Mississippi; 8:30 a.m.