Chapter 58
Cora felt like she was inside a cloud. Soft and misty.
Jarred awake by a nurse dropping a pen on the metal table near her bed, she sat up, clutching her chest. “What happened?”
“Sorry,” the nurse said.
“Calm down,” Jane said. Jane? She looked rumpled and half asleep.
“Okay, you tell me what’s going on and I’ll calm down,” Cora said. “How’s that sound?”
Jane smiled. “Relax, okay? You’re fine now.”
“I’m in a hospital room with tubes attached to me. It would appear I’m not fine,” Cora said.
“Do you remember anything about last night?” Jane asked.
Cora sorted through her foggy memories. “I remember watching Glee. My arms feeling heavy, falling asleep. . . .”
“Is that it? What did you do last night?”
“Well, you know, we ate dinner together,” Cora said.
“Did you eat anything in your room?”
“Chocolate,” Cora said. “It was left on my pillow.”
“That must have been it. I’m calling Cashel. The police need to find the wrapper and check it out,” Jane said.
“What? Why?”
“You were drugged.”
“I was?” Cora searched through an assortment of feelings and dreams. Were they not dreams? “Was someone in my room last night?” She gasped. “I thought I was dreaming!”
“Yes, but you’re fine now, right? No need to panic,” Jane said, dialing Cashel on her cell.
“Cashel, it was the chocolate. The trash needs to be searched for the wrapper. Maybe there are, I don’t know, prints, or something?” Jane said.
Prints? Examining her trash? Who had been in her room? What did they want?
“‘He’s not going to be happy if we don’t find anything, ’” she remembered someone saying. She also remembered the sound of a keyboard.
“Hold on, Jane. Tell them to search my computer. I remember someone on my computer. God, I thought I was dreaming!” Cora said.
Jane repeated what Cora said into the phone. “I don’t know,” she said after listening to Cashel for a moment, then turned to Cora. “Are you ready to make a statement to the police?”
“Hell, yes,” Cora said.
“You heard her?” Jane said, laughing. “Okay, later.”
“I need to get this thing out of my arm and get out of here,” Cora said to the nurse.
“You’re not quite finished yet. We need to keep rehydrating you,” she replied.
“I feel fine,” Cora responded.
“You’re not going anywhere yet,” Jane said. “So relax.”
“I have so much to do. A blog post to write. The retreat party. Adrian . . .” Cora said.
“No word yet about Adrian,” Jane said.
Was that part of her dream as well? The part where Adrian held her, whispered to her it was going to be all right, rescued her? How did he know? The wire! He must have heard what was happening on it. She had forgotten to turn it off last night. Well, she may have remembered at some point—if she had not gotten drugged.
“What kind of drug did they give me?” Cora asked.
“The same one they gave Cashel—the date rape drug.”
“Jesus,” she said. “No wonder I couldn’t move.”
Adrian and Tom must have disappeared, once again, after hotel security and the police took over last night. She couldn’t quite remember how it went down. But what she did remember warmed her. Adrian.
Something in her gave way. Was she starting to trust him? Were her feelings deepening? After everything she found out about him this weekend, all the half-truths, she realized they said more about her lack of trust than they did about him.
She bit the inside of her lip.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Adrian,” she said. “I’m worried.”
“I am, too. Where could he be?” Jane said.
A pang of guilt moved through Cora. How could she not tell her best friend what was going on? Her moment of angst was interrupted by a couple of detectives rapping on her door. Cora recognized them.
“Well, that was quick,” Jane said.
“How are you feeling?” Detective Andrews said.
“Well enough to give you a statement,” Cora said.
“Great,” Detective Andrews said. “But we also wondered if you knew who was in your room. Could you identify them?”
“We realize you were drugged and might not have seen them. Did you hear anything? See anything at all?”
Cora was about to answer when Tom walked into the room.
“Tom?” Jane said. “What you doing here?”
“I came to see how Cora is,” he said, leaning over to hug her. “Don’t tell them anything,” he whispered.
“What did you say?” Jane said. “What’s going on here?”
“I just told her how well she’s looking,” Tom said, giving his million-dollar smile.
Jane shifted her eyes toward Cora, then back to him, confused.
“How are you feeling?” he asked Cora.
“To tell you the truth,” she said, hesitating, “I was feeling okay, but now, I’m feeling a bit woozy.”
“Woozy? Let me find a nurse,” Jane said, walking out of the room.
“Water?” Tom said, nodding toward the pitcher.
“Sure,” Cora said. Two detectives were standing there, in her room, and an undercover FBI agent had just whispered in her ear. She wasn’t quite lying when she said she needed water—the situation was getting trickier by the minute.
One of the detectives cleared his throat. “We can come back later,” he said.
Tom handed her a glass of water and smiled back at the detective. “I think it would be for the best.”
He was so slick and fake—but, damn, he was good. The detectives decided to take their leave.
“My lawyer will be in touch with you,” Cora called after them.
“What was that all about?” Jane said, entering as the detectives left the room. “What’s going on here?”
Jane knew about Cora’s strong dislike of Tom. Of course seeing him hug her had set off her radar.
“You’re one smart lady,” Tom said.
“We should tell her everything,” Cora said. “Unless you want to be investigating another murder—mine.”