Love Inspired Suspense July 2015 #2 by Alison Stone, Terri Reed, Maggie K. Black

the two men made the introductions. “Chief says you need a wellness check on a guest.”
    â€œYes. A James Clark.” Drew handed over the fax he’d brought with them. The image showed an average-looking older man of average height with dark hair and dark eyes. “His credit card was found at a crime scene last night. The last charge on the account was here at the bar. A call to Hotel Registration confirmed he was a guest through the weekend. We need you to do a wellness check.”
    â€œWe have his room number and card key,” Officer Grant said. “He has a terrace room on the fourth floor. Room four-oh-six, at the end of the hall.”
    Adrenaline rushed through Sami’s veins. Could Mr. Clark be the killer? Or would they find Mr. Clark’s mutilated body?
    She and Drew followed the two officers along another cobblestone path to a wing of the resort that stacked to six levels. Each room had a private balcony. The inner rooms overlooked the beautiful courtyard and the reflecting pool that beckoned with its sun-dappled water. The outer rooms, such as James Clark’s, had stunning views of the Camelback Mountain in the distance.
    They took the stairs to the fourth floor. The hallway was carpeted with swirling greens and rust-colored patterns. The smell of cinnamon overpowered the fragrant scents of the courtyard they’d left behind. The aroma grew stronger as they approached room 406. Though not necessarily an unpleasant smell, it was certainly surprising. Candles? Incense?
    A Do Not Disturb sign hung from the doorknob.
    Officer Jensen rapped his knuckles on the door. “Mr. Clark? Police. Open up.”
    No noise emanated from inside the room.
    Officer Grant stepped up, knocked again and then slid the key card into the slot. When the green light flashed, he pushed open the door. An intense wave of the spice burned her nose. But beneath the cinnamon scent she detected a foul odor.
    All four of them shared ominous glances.
    With his hand on his holster, Officer Jensen entered first. “Uh, you guys better get in here.”
    The officer’s dire tone made Sami’s heart sink. Most likely Mr. Clark was dead. The certainty took up residence in her chest, squeezing her lungs tight. Steeling herself against the inevitable, she filed into the room behind the men.
    She put a finger under her nose but it didn’t help quell the nauseating smell. The room was stifling hot. The curtains had been drawn, allowing the sun to bake the inside like a sauna.
    Officer Grant clamped a hand over his mouth and ran out of the room. Sami sympathized with the guy. She suffered with a strong gag reflex and only by sheer force of will was she able to keep from dry-heaving.
    Sami’s gaze landed on the dead Caucasian woman lying on the edge of the bedspread. She was coated in a white chalky substance that covered her like a dusting of snow. It was hard to determine age. Her dark hair fanned out around her head like a peacock’s tail.
    â€œLime,” Drew murmured. A hydrated lime used on farms and in gardens as a soil modifier. When used on a corpse, it delayed the decaying process as well as minimized the stench.
    She nodded even as her stomach revolted. She clamped her teeth together to keep from throwing up. Stupid gag reflex. Her personal Achilles’ heel.
    Give me strength, God
, she silently prayed.
    On the dresser was an empty bottle of cinnamon oil. The floor was soaked with the liquid spice.
    â€œI take it this is not James Clark,” Officer Jensen said. He cleared his throat. “Any chance this Clark fella could be your killer?”
    Sami snorted. “No way would it be that easy.”
    â€œToo bad.” Officer Jensen walked to the open door. “Hey, Grant, call in a missing-person alert on James Clark.”
    They needed to find Mr. Clark before he turned up dead. Time was not his friend. Sami gestured toward the bed. “How quickly can you identify