Her shoulders tense, and just like he did, she starts scanning the room. But just like her, he’s out of sight, if he’s watching.
“What did he say?” she asks. “Christ, drink some water. You’re white as a sheet. Remember what I taught you about controlling your face?”
“He knows. We have to go.” My hands shake around the water glass. Her eyes widen, and then her hands cover mine.
“Control yourself,” she orders under her breath.
But I can’t, and she ends up taking me back to the car and finally gets the story out of me in halting bursts as we drive back to the hotel.
I’m too shaken to notice the glint in her eye, or maybe I think it’s anger. But when we get to the front desk and there’s a bouquet waiting for her, I see what he meant by his gift.
He knows where we’re staying. It’s a threat. Run. Run. There are no knitting needles this time, you need to run.
She strokes one of the flowers. “When did these arrive?” she asks the concierge.
“Around eleven thirty,” she says.
“Hmm.” Mom plucks the envelope off the marble counter and flicks it open, pulling out the little card. I peer around her shoulder to read it.
One word: Dinner?
“Would you like me to have someone bring the flowers up to your suite?”
Mom shakes her head. “My daughter will take them. Thank you.”
I don’t want to touch them, but I do as I’m told. She’s still holding the card as we get to the elevator, rubbing it between her fingers like it’s something soft and secret. I press the button, waiting until the doors swish closed to turn to her.
“Why are you smiling?” I demand.
She looks over to the flowers in my hands and presses the fingers with the card still clutched in it to her lips. “They’re foxgloves,” she says.
Heat crawls in my face because I feel like she’s laughing at a joke I don’t know. A joke they know.
“They mean deception.” She plucks one of the flowers out of the vase. Then she laughs. And it’s not a fake laugh. It’s her real laugh, surprised and little wry. Like she can’t believe it.
The elevator doors slide open. She sweeps forward. I stay stuck in place.
She doesn’t notice she’s left me behind.
— 45 —
12:02 p.m. （170 minutes captive）
1 lighter, 3 bottles of vodka, 1 pair of scissors, 2 safe-deposit keys, 1 hunting knife
Plan #1: Scrapped
Plan #2: On hold
Plan #3: Stab
Plan #4: Get gun. Get Iris and Wes. Get out.
Plan #5: Iris’s plan
The contents of Iris’s purse: 1 wallet with 23 dollars and a driver’s license, 1 nylon scarf, 1 cotton handkerchief, 1 bottle hairspray, 1 plastic water bottle, 2 tampons, 1 celluloid brooch, 6 lipsticks, a packet of bobby pins, 2 hair ties, 1 brownie wrapped in tinfoil, 3 bottles of pills
Iris tries the bathroom door, and he’s definitely blocked it. It won’t budge. I push the two stall doors open, but there aren’t any windows. We’re stuck.
“I don’t think he’s out there,” she whispers, pressing her ear against the door.
He’s probably gone to check on Duane, hoping to wake him up. We need to move fast.
“Did he have you down there in the basement the whole time? Does he have Wes too?”
She shakes her head. “Just me. Wes is still in the office as far as I know.”
“Are you okay?”
She nods. “He just made me sit there while he melted through the bars.”
“They got through the bars? Did he get the box?”
“He got through, but didn’t even go inside.”
“Why wouldn’t he try to get the box open?”
“I don’t think he knows what box they’re looking for,” Iris says. “Either the one in gray didn’t tell him, or . . .”
“Neither of them knows,” I finish.
“Another reason why the manager not being here messed everything up.”
“The more I find out about their plan, the shittier it gets,” I say.
“Yet they’re still winning,” Iris says. She sets her purse on the sink. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I need to empty my cup.” She pushes past me and goes into one of the stalls.
“Look in the cupboard below the sink,” she tells me from the stall, and I bend down, yanking it open.
“We’ve got toilet paper, a refill bag of hand soap, toilet brushes, plunger.” I reach farther into the cabinet, dragging out the big bottle in the back. “Gallon bottle of hand sanitizer.”