But not before she had kidnapped another girl and held her prisoner. In her anxiety, Cain pushed against the steering wheel so hard she actually felt it start to bend. She relaxed and looked out the window. The darkness looked back at her without a trace of understanding or empathy, when, in all honesty, she was looking for both.
You have to put this behind you, El. You can’t do this anymore. You won’t make it.
But she had another dilemma. The FBI was still looking for her. She hadn’t stabbed Joe Atkins, but there was no way that Desiree would ever say that she hadn’t. She would try to take Cain down with her, that was for certain. In fact, she thought, with a sudden panic, she might use that as leverage to get a better deal on her current crimes. Trade Cain for a lighter sentence. Cain wouldn’t put anything past the woman, because literally nothing was beyond her.
So where did that leave her? Tired and clueless and just not giving a shit. With Desiree behind bars all the energy seemed to have been sucked right out of her. That was why she had decided to just leave. But now she was rethinking that decision. Cain fingered the hotel key card in her pocket. She had blown good money on her room and she hadn’t even slept there or even checked out. She decided to go back and get a good night’s sleep. In the morning she would decide what to do.
She drove back to the hotel, went up to her room, and fell into bed. At least for a few hours her troubles would no longer rule her thoughts, but they might sneak back in the form of nightmares. As she closed her eyes, Cain simply decided to chance it. Nightmares couldn’t really hurt you. It was only when you awoke from them that the real pain could come.
*
The next morning Carol Blum was getting worried. She had arranged to meet with Pine for an early breakfast, but Pine hadn’t shown up, which was not like her. Blum had phoned both her cell and her room and gotten no answer. She had gone to Pine’s room and knocked and also gotten no response. When she called Pine’s phone, she could hear it ringing from inside the room. Something was definitely wrong.
She rushed down to the lobby to find out if anyone had seen Pine, when two men in blue FBI windbreakers strode into the hotel looking like they owned the place.
“Agent McAllister?” she said, going over to the men and instinctively focusing on the older one.
That man was well into his forties, salt-and-pepper haired, medium height, and with a trim build and alert manner. The other was in his early thirties, tall and lanky, with a jutting chin, a high, lined forehead, and blond hair. He looked at Blum with suspicion.
The older man nodded. “I’m Special Agent Drew McAllister. And you are?”
Blum quickly explained who she was and also that Pine was apparently missing.
McAllister quickly took charge and made inquiries at the front desk. One of the attendants led them up to Pine’s room and opened the door for them. They quickly searched through the room and found that Pine’s belongings were all there, except they couldn’t find her guns.
“They might be in the room safe,” said Blum. “I know she usually stows them in there.” She opened the closet, and pointed out the safe. “It’s locked.”
“You’re probably right,” said McAllister.
“She had her shield with her when she was going back to her room last night,” Blum told them.
“Well, maybe she never made it back to her room,” said McAllister grimly. “Is your car still in the parking lot?”
“Yes, I saw it from out of my window.”
“And she didn’t contact you after you saw her last night?”
“No. I think you’re right. I don’t think she made it back to her room.”
“Anything unusual happen here last night?” asked the other agent, who had been introduced as Special Agent Neil Bertrand.