Carolyn Arnold - McKinley 02 - Vacation is Murder (11 page)

They took the few extra steps into the main area. There was a double-sized bed off to the right, an old tube television on a dresser to the left, and in the middle was a spindle-backed chair—Amelia Wolfe’s blank gaze staring back at them.

“We’re going to have to involve the police, Sean.”

He ran a hand down his face, taking in what used to be a beautiful woman. This didn’t have to happen. Was it a result of their getting involved in something that they should have left for the authorities to handle?

“She was shot in the forehead.” Sean paced around Amelia. A part of him wanted to shelter Sara from this, but her background gave her all she needed to manage what was before them. He had to remember that, despite his overwhelming urge to coddle her, just a month ago she was working murder scenes back in Albany.

“What’s going on, Sean? First Earl goes missing, and now Amelia’s dead? How does it all tie together?”

“What if it wasn’t Amelia who needed the fifty thousand, but this man instead? Maybe he put her up to it. We’ve already figured their connection traced back home. When she didn’t come through and get the money, he took it to the next step. I’d really like to know where Earl is.”

“Me too.” Sara walked near to Amelia’s body and scanned the room, her eyes settling on the exploded pillow. “He must have used it to suppress the sound of the gun, and all of this just made our situation worse. The man we’re after is armed.”

Something bumped the room’s door.

“We’ve got company,” Sean said.

On The Run

THEY STEPPED TO THE SIDE of the room, which would put them out of the initial line of sight.

The door opened and then closed. Someone was in the room.

Sean’s chest compressed with adrenaline, stealing his ability to derive a full breath. He didn’t imagine it was room service. He never heard a cart roll into the room and, typically, maids left the door open as a safety precaution when they cleaned.

The pacing of the footfalls and the weight behind them indicated it was a man.

“I know you’re in here,” he called out.

The man at the front desk must have told him about the interested couple.

Sean put a hand out behind him and motioned for Sara to stay back.

“Come out. I just want to talk to Mr. and Mrs. McKinley.”

Sara leaned in to Sean’s ear. “He knows us? Let me go out. He won’t shoot me.”

“No. You don’t know that.”

“Sean, I used to be homicide detective. I took risks every day.”

“There’s a difference.”

Sara’s hands shot to her waist and she turned on Sean. “What’s that?”

“You weren’t my wife then.”

Her chin pressed up as her teeth clenched. “Please, just trust me.”

The footsteps continued to approach.

There had to be some way for them to know if the man had his weapon drawn. Sean’s guess would be yes, but they had to remain as quiet as possible to execute the element of surprise. He probably only had a few more steps to go before he’d reach them.

“I can hear your whispers, you know.” The man in the Budweiser t-shirt, Bud, rounded the corner, a gun readied in his hands.

Sean studied the way he held the weapon and rapidly made the calculations. Bud gripped it with one hand, not two. If Sean could get him talking, and then act when he least expected it, he might have a chance.

“What did she do to you?” Sean asked, nodding his head toward Amelia without taking his eyes off Bud.

“It’s none of your concern now, is it?” He jabbed the barrel toward the bed. “Take a seat, by all means. All your stalking must be exhaust—”

Sean kicked Bud’s wrist, instantly releasing his hold on the gun, sending it to the floor.

“You’re both going to die,” Bud roared as he bent to retrieve the weapon.

Sara kneed him in the gut, crumpling him into a ball.

Sean got down and grabbed Bud’s shirt. “Where is Earl Spencer?” When he didn’t answer, Sean shook him. “Your little game has come to an end.”

“I’m. Not. Telling. You. Anything.”

Bud’s arm came up, and Sean ducked right, just missing the blow intended for his nose.

Bud crawled toward the gun and Sara landed a hard twist of a heeled sandal on the back of his hand. He yelped out in pain and a bullet fired.

Not good. Even in a dive like this, people would come investigating.

Sean yanked Bud up by the back of his shirt, hoisting him to a standing position.

“I’m not telling you anything.” He spat, barely missing Sean’s face, but it broke him free of Sean’s grip, and he ran to the hallway.

Sean raced after him, the adrenaline pumping through him and blocking out all sound. His vision fixed, he was intent on the target ahead and nothing else.

Bud led them down a back staircase toward the pool area.

Sean did a quick survey of the surroundings. No one was out there.

The concrete patio heaved in some areas and grass sprouted in the cracks, causing Bud to catch the tip of his shoe on an uplifted piece of stone. He fell, headfirst, into the deep end of the pool.

Sean jumped in after him. He got his bearings, but not as quick as Bud.

“You deserve this for getting involved.” Bud pushed him beneath the surface.

Fear of drowning intensified Sean’s senses further. He could hear everything. Sara’s shoes had reached the edge of the pool and she was calling out to him. He mentally communicated with her not to get into the pool—no matter what happened.

Sean’s head broke the surface, all of his fighting power going to the burning muscles of his legs and abdomen. He gasped for breath.

“Sean!” Sara’s voice dulled as he went under again and the rush of water and bubbles filled his ear canals.

He struggled to find a hold on Bud’s clothing, but the fabric ran through his fingers as if fine silk, allowing Bud to move his body out of reach. He must have been floating on top of the water, giving him the advantage, as he held Sean under.

Everything from the last month ricocheted through Sean’s mind—how he went from being a working man to being one of the wealthiest on the planet, from being lonely to being married to the woman of his dreams.

Did he come to Cancun to die? No. The resounding answer pushed him forward. Sara. He would live for her. If he died what would happen to her?

Sean shimmied, wiggling and contorting, in an effort to break the man’s hold. It worked, and the man’s body lowered enough that Sean got a solid handful of his clothing, wrenching the man down.

They reached the bottom, both of their fists flailing in an effort to inflict damage, but the water served as buffer, slowing the blows to ineffective jabs.

Sean needed air. Now.

He wrestled, trying to break free.

Sara’s screams resonated—even at eight feet down.

Seconds ticked.

Sean had to get to the surface.

Intent only on survival, both men released the other and made it to the top as sirens pierced the humid air.

The man swam quickly to the edge of the pool where he hoisted himself up, ran along the patio and dashed through a gate.

Sara was at the side of the pool, holding out her hand for Sean. “You picked a strange time for a swim, darling.”

“Very funny. Come on, let’s get out of here.” He pulled her behind him and they cleared the back of the property, as the running feet of policeman tapped the concrete behind them.

It’s All About Perspective

THEY APPROACHED A NEARBY MOTEL that gave off the same level of quality, or lack thereof, as the one they’d come from. Sean worked, with one hand, at digging out soaked bills from his pocket as he held out the other to slow Sara’s pace. If they went hurrying in, combined with the nearby sirens, they would appear suspicious.

Sara nodded to his directions and slipped her hand into his.

The man behind the counter looked like he had just been awakened from a nap.

“One room. Whatever you got,” Sean blurted out the words.

The man shared glances between Sean and Sara and came back to rest his eyes on Sean.  “Speak slower, Señor.”

“We need a room.”

The Mexican pointed at Sean’s wet clothing.

Sean jacked a thumb toward the street. “It’s hot out there.”

The man looked skeptically at him and then passed his gaze to Sara. “You’re a little fancy for a place like this aren’t you?”

Sean tightened his hold on Sara. “We’re on our honeymoon.”

“Special guy you’ve got here, taking you to a dive like this.”

“He’s the best.” Sara ran a hand down Sean’s chest.

Sean took her hand. “We were on a day excursion, saw the place and, I’m sure you know what it’s like. Like I said, we’re honeymooners.” Sean leaned on the counter, raised his brow, hoping he wouldn’t be encouraged to elaborate.

His heart was still pounding. The last thing he and Sara needed was to be apprehended by the Mexican police. He’d never seen the inside of a Mexican jail, and he had no desire to now.

Sean placed the pesos on the counter. “Here. Keep the change. Key?”

The man picked up the money and counted it thoroughly. “You’re short.”

“It’s exactly what the sign says.”

Sara pulled her hand from Sean’s and touched his arm. “It’s okay, darling, just pay the man whatever it takes.”

The man smiled at Sara. “See, now that’s a woman.”

Sean fished out the money and, being coaxed on by more approaching sirens, begrudgingly extended the additional amount.

“Ah, now, we have vacancy.” The Mexican pulled a key ring off a nail. “Room one ten.”

The room was simple and square, with the bathroom in one corner. The tub, toilet, and sink pedestal were all a pale green.

“You can’t complain it’s not coordinated,” Sara said. She was determined to find some positive in the mess they were in. Sean had been through enough and had nearly drowned.

There was a double bed with a ratty comforter, and she would do her best to will her mind off what germs would be living in the fabric. Rumor was that brand hotel chains didn’t wash their comforters after each guest—she didn’t want to give much thought to the last time this one likely saw a hot wash cycle.

Sean dropped on the end of the bed and bounced back up. “Come here.”

She walked over to his open arms and snuggled in to him—despite the fact his wet body was cool to the touch. Energy quaked through him. She pulled back to look up, rubbing his back as her other hand caressed his face.

“That was too close for my liking,” he said.

“Mine too, baby.”

She landed a soft kiss on his lips. As much as she wanted to melt into the moment and reminisce about the past few weeks of nothing more than lovemaking and sand, all of the questions parading in her mind needed answers. She waited out the embrace, letting him end it.

“We’ve got to find Earl, Sean. We need to get the answers.”

“At what risk?”

He looked on her with such vulnerability lacing his eyes, it pained her.

“I know you’re afraid of losing me, but you have to trust me to handle it, like you did before.” She peered into his eyes, beseeching him to see the truth.

Slowly, he nodded.

“How long do you think we’ll need to hide out here?” Sara took a few steps and turned around.

“You might not like the answer to that.” His eyes diverted from her to the room. “I think we should spend the night here. Until we can drop the money tomorrow and get Earl back, it’s probably safer than returning to our resort.”

Sara went back to his side. She knew he was right—even if she didn’t like the answer. If they returned, they put themselves at risk. The man, who had fled, and who she was certain had kidnapped Earl, might also know which resort they came from.

“I know it’s not the nicest place in the world, and I’m sorry,” Sean said.