On the Line [Run Cold Book Two]

15: Where it Goes

Unblossomed roses brought a breath of spring to the wrought-iron bears that formed the palace gates. Reporters, cars, and vans had gathered at the front, and beyond them a warm afternoon drew to a close with yellow sunbeams and ocean breezes.

I gripped the edges of the plain oak podium staff had erected for my use, felt air sweep across my exposed neck and jiggle my the silver lace earrings.

I didn't have a speech prepared. It felt wrong, it made me angry, pinning up my hair into a braided bun that would've made Becky proud, putting in earrings, laying a matching pendent on my neck when Mom was...

"You're nearly as pale as this morning." Chief Braaten was a soft squeeze on my shoulder as he leaned in. "When you're ready."

I shut my eyes, pictured Mom in the bed and Dad beside her, and when I reopened them, my tongue unstuck and the words began to flow.

There wasn't much to say, nothing a scripted piece of paper could have said better. I told those gathered that the general public wasn't in any danger, that I appreciated their love and support, that Mom was stable but it's too early to say if she'll improve.

The Chief took over for questions, offering only the clipped, terse response expected of any ongoing investigation. I stood at his side until he dismissed the crowd, asked when I could meet with the shooter ("Not for a few days"), and retreated to the depths of the palace, an eye on the time. I didn't have much of a chance to change before meeting Marc; and with dinner penciled in for 6:30, there really wasn't time to head back to my room and change yet again. So the outfit I wore to the brief speech- a floor-length evening dress with capped sleeves, a polite v-neck and a knotted, thin ribbon at the waist, would have to do. The fabric was light and just brushed the ground against my heels, the perfect transition from winter to summer, but I had chosen it for its color- a soft grey like weathered beach stones, reminiscent of my mood.

In the hall of room 303, I found Marcus. Like me, he'd assumed there wouldn't be time before dinner to head back for a change of clothes. He'd made a fair effort to clean up since I'd seen him last. More than fair, if I was being honest. Dark charcoal slacks, a matching vest and suit jacket. A nice tie. He'd even shaved and put on cologne, which I almost didn't like as I leaned up and kissed his clean cheek in a warm hello. I almost preferred that cool timber and hay scent of the northern ranch.

"Don't we look like a pair of thieves?" I said, gesturing at his attire and my own. As another couple emerged from their room I took his arm and strolled leisurely down the hall. "I'll look left and you right."

The door was on the left. With me acting as lookout, Marc took care of the door. We stepped inside and I immediately locked it behind us and flipped on a light.

"What's that going to do?" he asked, tilting his head to one side to take in the room. It was larger than I'd expected, lavishly decorated with formal paintings and bookshelves and old artifacts. Wood lay stacked beside an as-yet unlit fire.

I set the key on the mantle, then turned to look at the bedroom across from it. An open door beside it led to a closet, and beside that a private bathroom. "The last time I forgot to lock the door Nik's landlord tried to shoot me."

"You can't escape through a window this time," he added, pulling back a curtain to examine the three story drop.

"But we'd have time to hide." I gave him a once-over; so I wasn't crazy about the cologne. He still looked fantastic, one hand in his pocket, straightening his tie in the window reflection. "So..." I said, gravitating towards the mattress instead of towards him like I wanted to. "Delicate."

Marc lifted the pillows cautiously, then peeled back the sheets while I ducked down under the bed and-

"Ulch." I sat up on my knees, rubbing my temple. Crotchless, neon leopard pink panties. For a woman that old. I couldn't keep myself from being creeped out and yet oddly proud of her for still getting into mischief at that age. "Found it."