Protector's Honor. Kit Wilkinson
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Crossing the wide-plank floor, he headed straight to the check-in. The manager, a petite blonde dressed in a simple white linen outfit, gave him a wide smile from behind the front counter.
He returned his cousin’s smile despite his heavy heart. “How are you, Terri?”
“Busy. But glad you came in,” she confessed. “You’ve been mighty scarce this week.”
“Yeah, well, you know…” Rory’s jaw clenched at the truth in her words. Hanging out with family only emphasized the absence of his father. It had been easier to be alone. “So, I guess you heard a racer was injured?”
“I heard you rescued someone.”
“Tabitha Beaumont, one of your guests.”
A look of concern fell over Terri’s face. “Ms. Beaumont? She’s hurt?”
“Sprained ankle. Nothing serious. But that’s only part of the story.” Rory shifted his weight back.
Terri folded her arms across her chest. “Well? What happened?”
“Two men, one armed, attempted to abduct her.”
“What?” The petite woman’s gray eyes grew large and a worried look settled across her face. “I didn’t know. I just heard someone needed a ride back from the trail. Where did this happen?”
“About halfway down. I know the whole mountain belongs to the resort so I wanted to tell you that I’ve called some detectives in. They’ll want to talk to you.”
“Certainly. This is terrible. I can’t believe it. Ms. Beaumont seems so sweet. I had tea with her when she arrived yesterday. I enjoyed chatting with her. Do you think she’s in some kind of trouble? You know, she’s a lawyer in Charlotte.”
“A lawyer? Really?” He’d not even asked. Come to think of it, he hadn’t asked her anything. He’d been talking about himself. How had that happened? “What else did she tell you? Did she seem upset about anything?”
“No. Not that I could tell. A little nervous about the race. She said her older brother’s into triathlons and talked her into trying one.”
“This was her first race?” His eyebrows lifted.
Terri nodded. “That’s what she said. Why?”
He chuckled. “She did well. She’d been moving along for a first timer…” Rory stopped his pointless comment. Where was his focus? “I—I doubt it’s important. Anything else you remember? Was anyone meeting her or assisting her at the bike drop-off or the finish?”
“Now that you mention it, I recall her booking two rooms.” Terri took a moment to pull up some records on her computer. “The other room was registered under the name Bristow. She canceled it a few days ago.”
Bristow. Probably not her brother. Different last name. Boyfriend? Could this person be connected to what had happened? Rory pressed his fingers to the bridge of his aching nose, wishing he’d taken some aspirin for himself. “Did she say why?”
Terri shook her head. “No. Is it important? Is this what the police will ask me?”
“Maybe, but they’ll also want to know about the grounds and security. How you handle the event. Stuff like that.”
“Okay.” Terri rubbed her hands together nervously.
“I’ll go see if they’ve arrived, but first, Ms. Beaumont needs a favor. A few things from her room. Could you let me in since she can’t get up here with her bad ankle?”
She rolled her eyes. “Always ready to help a damsel in distress, huh? Especially if she’s beautiful?”
“Do you really think I’m that shallow?” Rory held his hands in the air, feigning innocence.
“No. But you have other issues.” Terri reached under the desk and pulled out an electronic key card. Then she called another clerk to cover the front. “Come on. I’ll walk you up,” she said to Rory.
Together, they headed up the wooden staircase to the second floor.
“What issues?” he asked. “I don’t have any issues.”
Terri pursed her lips together. “Uh…you haven’t been in a serious relationship in years.”
“I don’t have time to date. That doesn’t mean I have issues.”
“Whatever you say.” Terri was shaking her head. Rory bit back a reply. Why did he care what she thought anyway?
They passed several numbered doors continuing down a somber, narrow hallway with a few sharp turns. Terri stopped abruptly a few feet from an open door. Golden streams of sunlight spilled across the corridor. Speckles of dust hung lifeless in the downward rays. The quiet air seemed eerie, far removed from the cheerful whir of activity outside the inn.
Terri frowned. “I can’t imagine the staff leaving her door wide-open like that.”
Rory moved Terri against the wall. “Stay here.”
He reached under his arm where a holster would have normally held his automatic Glock. It wasn’t there, of course. He shook his head and entered.
The room was small—just enough space for the mission-style bed, a small upholstered chair and a three-drawer dresser. The bed’s white quilt had been thrown to the floor and the rest of the linens peeled from the mattress. A few articles of clothing lay willy-nilly across the floor and dresser. He found no cell phone, no purse, no suitcase. He moved over the hardwood floors and opened the door to the bath. There were no toiletries, not even a toothbrush or bottle of shampoo.
“Clear. Come in, Terri. Are you sure this is Ms. Beaumont’s room?” He examined a rumpled T-shirt that had been tossed recklessly into the corner.
“Oh, my!” Terri’s mouth dropped open as she entered the chaotic room. “Yes. It’s definitely her room. I brought her up myself.”
Rory looked under the bed. Clean and empty. He opened the dresser drawers. Empty. “There’s nothing in here but some dirty clothes.”
“She’s been robbed? Let me call my staff and see if anyone knows what’s happened.”
“No. Wait here. In fact, call someone to stay with you. I’m going to find the detectives and send them up.”
She nodded.
A new wave of anxiety washed over Rory. He didn’t need to be a cop to guess that the burgled room and the attack were connected. Maybe the men after Tabitha didn’t want her, but something she had? Maybe they wanted both?
At that, Rory flew down the stairs. He hoped leaving Tabitha alone hadn’t been a huge mistake.
THREE
“One man was tall, thin…blondish. The other heavyset. No taller than me,” Tabitha said to the policemen.
Detective Jon Greenwood sat across from her, rubbing his gray beard. His partner, Hines, stood nearby taking copious notes. They had joined her just minutes after Rory’s departure, exhausting her with their detailed questions. If the day had ended right then, it wouldn’t have been soon enough.
“And how tall is that?” Hines asked.
“I’m five-seven,” she said.
The taller detective looked up from his little white pad as if to check her measurements. “Five-seven. Good. Keep going.” He returned to his note-taking.
Tabitha sighed. “The shorter man was bald. Or maybe his head was shaved, and I think he had a scar on his face.” She paused and looked at the deep red marks on her wrists where he’d held her. Her mind flooded with old images—images of another man, one she’d known most of her life. He, too, had held her arms and made them raw. The memory unsettled her. “I’m sorry—I can’t remember any more.”