for the electronic door lock and explained about the restaurant, the pool and checkout times. All she wanted was a long hot bath and room service.
After feigning sleepiness, Sarah got away from him without being too rude. She checked in with the name Sarah Ryan, Dolan’s last name. Using his name made her feel special after all they’d been through together.
She put out the Do Not Disturb flap and secured the night lock. Dolan, or anyone else, wouldn’t be joining her this evening.
She grabbed the restaurant menu, ordered room service to be delivered in one hour sharp then drew a hot bath. She disrobed, hopped in the steaming water and finally relaxed. She was safe. Only Dolan knew where she was. She could stay the night and decide what to do in the morning. If Parkman was already in the States, maybe she would have to bite the bullet and call her parents. After reassuring them she was alive and well, her father could drive up and fetch her. Until then, she could stay locked up in this hotel.
She sunk lower in the tub, letting the filth of the past week locked in a cell ooze off her. She needed new clothes. Maybe the hotel had a gift shop where she could at least buy a hat and a toothbrush. She was weary, tired of being on the run. It was time to get her life back.
The phone rang. She wondered if it was the kitchen with a question about her food. They could wait. She needed to enjoy her tub before she would eat. She had all night to eat, sleep and eat some more. Which reminded her, she needed to order some kind of chocolate dessert. A Snickers cake or double chocolate arrangement of some kind. A woman needed her chocolate.
The phone stopped ringing.
She dipped her dark hair in the water, ran her hands through it and pushed up and out to grab the small bottle of shampoo.
The phone started again.
“Holy shit, take it easy,” she shouted into the room.
She lathered up her hair, trying to stay calm, but the phone didn’t stop. Maybe it wasn’t the kitchen. If it was, their next step would be to send someone up to knock on her door. She wanted to avoid anyone else seeing her face, so she quickly rinsed her hair, soaped up her body and rinsed off under the shower.
While towel drying her hair, the phone started again.
She ran out, still naked, and picked up the receiver.
“Is there a reason to keep calling—”
“Sarah, it’s me.”
“Oh, hey, Dolan. Sorry about that. Thought it was the hotel. I was in the tub. I was supposed to call, wasn’t I? Sorry. Everything okay?”
“No.” He breathed in deep, exhaling as if it was his last breath. “They’re looking for you.”
Her stomach couldn’t take anymore. “Who?” Even after she asked the question, she dreaded the answer.
“You didn’t tell me what happened at the mall,” Dolan said.
“Yeah, long story. Why?”
“A lot of cops died.”
She dropped the towel on the bed and swung her hair over one shoulder. She felt vulnerable standing naked, talking on the phone.
“How many?” she asked.
“The news channels are saying nine people died. One unidentified man wearing white powder on his face, sky blue contact lenses and a long overcoat. Six Toronto police officers and two members of the American government. The ninth was a woman. They’re calling it a massacre. Never before have so many police officers been killed at one time in one place.”
“Rod Howley is dead, too,” Sarah said. “The woman’s name was Joan Frommer, Hank’s wife.”
“Sarah, what happened?”
“Can you give me a sec?”
“Sarah …”
“I gotta get dressed. I jumped out of the tub to take the call.”
“Okay, go.”
She set the phone down on the bed. While slipping into her panties, she wondered how much to tell Dolan. He deserved as much of the truth as she knew, but she really didn’t know a lot. She decided to slim everything
After feigning sleepiness, Sarah got away from him without being too rude. She checked in with the name Sarah Ryan, Dolan’s last name. Using his name made her feel special after all they’d been through together.
She put out the Do Not Disturb flap and secured the night lock. Dolan, or anyone else, wouldn’t be joining her this evening.
She grabbed the restaurant menu, ordered room service to be delivered in one hour sharp then drew a hot bath. She disrobed, hopped in the steaming water and finally relaxed. She was safe. Only Dolan knew where she was. She could stay the night and decide what to do in the morning. If Parkman was already in the States, maybe she would have to bite the bullet and call her parents. After reassuring them she was alive and well, her father could drive up and fetch her. Until then, she could stay locked up in this hotel.
She sunk lower in the tub, letting the filth of the past week locked in a cell ooze off her. She needed new clothes. Maybe the hotel had a gift shop where she could at least buy a hat and a toothbrush. She was weary, tired of being on the run. It was time to get her life back.
The phone rang. She wondered if it was the kitchen with a question about her food. They could wait. She needed to enjoy her tub before she would eat. She had all night to eat, sleep and eat some more. Which reminded her, she needed to order some kind of chocolate dessert. A Snickers cake or double chocolate arrangement of some kind. A woman needed her chocolate.
The phone stopped ringing.
She dipped her dark hair in the water, ran her hands through it and pushed up and out to grab the small bottle of shampoo.
The phone started again.
“Holy shit, take it easy,” she shouted into the room.
She lathered up her hair, trying to stay calm, but the phone didn’t stop. Maybe it wasn’t the kitchen. If it was, their next step would be to send someone up to knock on her door. She wanted to avoid anyone else seeing her face, so she quickly rinsed her hair, soaped up her body and rinsed off under the shower.
While towel drying her hair, the phone started again.
She ran out, still naked, and picked up the receiver.
“Is there a reason to keep calling—”
“Sarah, it’s me.”
“Oh, hey, Dolan. Sorry about that. Thought it was the hotel. I was in the tub. I was supposed to call, wasn’t I? Sorry. Everything okay?”
“No.” He breathed in deep, exhaling as if it was his last breath. “They’re looking for you.”
Her stomach couldn’t take anymore. “Who?” Even after she asked the question, she dreaded the answer.
“You didn’t tell me what happened at the mall,” Dolan said.
“Yeah, long story. Why?”
“A lot of cops died.”
She dropped the towel on the bed and swung her hair over one shoulder. She felt vulnerable standing naked, talking on the phone.
“How many?” she asked.
“The news channels are saying nine people died. One unidentified man wearing white powder on his face, sky blue contact lenses and a long overcoat. Six Toronto police officers and two members of the American government. The ninth was a woman. They’re calling it a massacre. Never before have so many police officers been killed at one time in one place.”
“Rod Howley is dead, too,” Sarah said. “The woman’s name was Joan Frommer, Hank’s wife.”
“Sarah, what happened?”
“Can you give me a sec?”
“Sarah …”
“I gotta get dressed. I jumped out of the tub to take the call.”
“Okay, go.”
She set the phone down on the bed. While slipping into her panties, she wondered how much to tell Dolan. He deserved as much of the truth as she knew, but she really didn’t know a lot. She decided to slim everything
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