I swam to consciousness, lying on my back. Brittany, Bruce, and Mom bent over me with distorted faces. I blinked hard. The left side of my head throbbed.
The hotel’s fire alarm cut off mid-blare. The sudden silence roared in my ears.
“Shaley, can you hear me?” Mom sank down beside me, cradling me in her arms.
“Yeah, I’m … My head hurts.”
“You hit it when you fainted.”
Ross stomped back and forth before our group, cursing. “Anybody see that photographer’s face?”
Photographer. Flashes. The memories flooded back.
Vaguely I registered the negative answers.
“I didn’t see it either,” I whispered to Mom. “Everything happened so fast.”
“I know, I know.”
Ross whipped his cell phone from his pocket.
A hotel employee approached. “It’s all right to go back inside now. Someone pulled a false alarm. We’re so sorry.”
Ross cursed again. “False alarm. Right.” His narrowed eyes met Mom’s. “This was planned.”
She gave a tight nod.
Planned?
More memories swept over me. Mom not letting me go into the hall without her. Mick running with a hand near his gun.
Ross jabbed numbers on his phone.
The pavement felt so hard. I sat up straight. “I want … I need to get up.”
Mom helped me stand. “Feel all right now?”
Brittany peered at me with concern.
“Yeah. I’m okay.”
“Detective Furlow, Ross Blanke here.” His irritated voice boomed into the phone. “You need to get over here right now.”
“Shaley, you okay?” Carly came over and hugged me. “Baby, I’m so sorry. I didn’t even see you go down.”
“It’s okay. Really.” I smiled crookedly. “Thanks.”
“There is too much craziness going on here,” Ross snapped. “I expect you to get to the bottom of it — now.”
“Rayne,” Mick said. “We should get back inside.”
“Yeah. Okay.” She pulled at Ross’s arm.
“All right.” He snapped his phone shut. “Detective’s on his way.” He looked around. “Let’s go. Everyone stay together.”
Mick, Bruce, and Wendell placed themselves on the outsides, the rest of us in the middle. Our thick group narrowed to enter the lobby door two at a time.
Ross halted. “Who’s got room keys?”
Vaguely I remembered sticking mine in a pocket. I felt for it. “I do.”
Some of our group hadn’t remembered to grab theirs on the way out. Apparently neither had half the hotel residents. People were already streaming toward the reception counter. “All right, wait a minute. Raise your hand if you forgot your keys — one person to a room.” Poking his finger in the air, Ross noted the hands. “Carly, Stan, Kim, Morrey. Okay, get on up to our floor. I’ll bring your keys.”
Heading toward the elevator, I glanced back to see Ross wedging himself at the front of the line.
Back in our room, I placed a small suitcase in the door to Mom’s suite to hold it open. Brittany and I fell onto our beds and waited for Detective Furlow to arrive at Mom’s room.
I still felt lightheaded. I really needed something substantial to eat, but nothing was available at the hotel at that hour. And our room’s pay-as-you-eat bar with cookies and chips held no interest for me. My body craved protein.
Brittany turned toward me on her bed. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“You mean someone pulled that alarm to get us out of our rooms?”
“Not us, Shaley. You.”
I blinked. “Why just me?”
“Come on. Who got the white rose and the photo? And who did that photographer take pictures of when we got downstairs?”
“You mean I was the only one?”
“Yup.”
“You didn’t see the person’s face?”
“No. I wasn’t even looking in that direction until the flashes went off. Then the light was too bright.”
I stared at the ceiling. “Why go to all that trouble just to get another picture of me? Like they didn’t get enough today.”
“I don’t know.”
“Shaley.” Mom appeared at the connecting door. “The detective’s here.”
I sighed and sat up. “You want to come, Brittany?”
“They probably won’t want me in there. Leave the door open — maybe I’ll be able to hear.”
“Okay.”
The detective looked rumpled as usual, but in a different wrinkled shirt and pants. A shock of his hair stuck out.
A still-agitated Ross joined us as we sat in the lounge area of Mom’s room. He sat forward on one couch, knees apart and a fist against his hip. “That photographer was planted, I’m telling you. Mick, the bodyguard who was with Shaley, reported he saw no other signs of photos being taken until they ran out the door. Someone was waiting there for her.”
“You get a look at the photographer?” The detective turned to me.
“No. The flashes were too bright, and I was too …”
“She fainted about that time.” Mom drew her bottom lip between her teeth.
Detective Furlow’s eyebrows rose. “Are you all right?”
I leaned my head back against the armchair. “Yeah. I guess I hadn’t eaten, and I was kind of wobbly.”
“You had anything to eat yet?” His tone was gentle.
“No. We just got back into our rooms.” I tried to smile. “You got here pretty fast.”
“What do you want?” Ross stood up. “I’ll call the front desk. They’ll get something from the kitchen for you even if it is closed.”
I hesitated, not wanting to put anybody out.
“Shaley,” Mom said. “Order something or I’ll order it for you.”
My stomach twisted. Hungry as I felt, I wasn’t even sure I could eat. “I don’t know. Maybe a hamburger? Or a salad with chicken?”
Mom nodded. “Ross, sit down, I’ll do this.” She headed to the nightstand and picked up the phone. Turning her back to us, she spoke in a quiet but firm tone that said her daughter would not be denied.
Detective Furlow cleared his throat. “What happened to the photographer?” He looked from Ross to me.
I pulled my arms across my chest. “He ran away. Just snapped the pictures, then took off.”
“Do you know for sure it was a man?”
I frowned. “No. Guess not.”
Mom hung up the phone and returned to perch on the edge of her chair. “Food will be up soon.”
“Thanks.”
We exchanged tired smiles. It occurred to me that Mom had paid me more attention in the last twenty-seven hours than she had in the many days before, all added together.
Detective Furlow focused on Mom. “At the end of our last meeting I told you we’d be questioning the photographers and reporters who showed up at the mall when Shaley was there. News footage has helped. We’ve been able to see for ourselves who was there. So far we’ve tracked down four people: The reporter for the San Jose Mercury; the photographer for Shock, Ed Whisk — “
“Vulture.” Mom narrowed her eyes into slits. I made a face.
The detective tilted his head. “I can see where you’d get the name. Also we talked to Brenda Bloomenthal with the All That’s Hot tabloid and a freelancer named Alan Crease.”
Brenda Bloomenthal. We called her Frog. “What did the freelancer look like?”
“Big, overweight. Heavy jowls.”
“Frodo,” Mom and I said at the same time.
The detective smiled briefly. “All were questioned on camera at the station. All had alibis for the time of Tom’s death, claiming they weren’t even in town. Each one said he or she hurried to San Jose after the news broke about the murder. They all live in the Southern California area, so it wouldn’t take long to hop a morning plane up here. But I’ve got people checking those alibis out.”
“If that’s true,” Mom said slowly, “then none of them could have taken the photo that ended up in Shaley’s shopping bag.”
“That’s right.”
“What about the other photographers I saw at the mall?” I asked.
“Still tracking them down.”
Detective Furlow’s cell phone rang. He pulled it from the clip on his belt and checked the incoming number. His head came up. “Excuse me for a minute.”
He held the phone to his ear. “Furlow.”
His eyes roved over the room as he listened.
“Great. Good thinking. On my way.”
He flipped the phone shut and stuck it back in his belt.
“Well.” He looked from Ross to Mom. “We got a lucky break. Looks like one of our officers stopped a speeder not too far from the hotel. When he shined a flashlight into the vehicle, he spotted a large camera. The speeder’s name is Len Torret. Said he works for Cashing In.”
Len Torret. We called him Cat. The slinky, disgusting-looking man with bleached blond hair. Mom and I couldn’t stand him.
The detective stood up. “The officer would have given Torret a ticket and let him go, but he got mouthy and refused to cooperate. So he was arrested. At the station, the officer heard talk of the fire alarm. I had checked in with the station after you called me.” Detective Furlow nodded to Ross. “The officer put two and two together.”
Cat. He’d been at the mall. Now it looked like he’d been the one in the parking lot tonight.
Had he put the “always watching” photo in my shopping bag?
As he started to leave, Detective Furlow shook hands with Ross. I watched their fingers clasp, and a sudden memory seared my brain. A memory of Tom … and Cat.
My mouth dropped open. I turned wide eyes on the detective. “Wait.”