EIGHTY-FOUR

THE situation was infuriating but there was nothing to be done.

Toby Mullins and Tessa Simmons were the quietest couple in the bar. From the moment he sat down, their heads were together, their faces somber as they chatted in whispers. It was obviously a serious and sometimes emotional conversation.

And I couldn’t hear a word of it.

There was a long moment when Tessa and Toby were both huddled over his mobile phone. What they were looking at and what they were whispering about remained a mystery to me.

“Do you recognize that man?” I quietly asked Mr. Dante.

“No,” he said. “Should I?”

“When I was in the hospital, I saw the guy outside my room several times. And when he noticed me leaving with you and Madame, he tried to follow us.”

“Why?”

“That’s what I’d like to know, along with why Tessa Simmons is so interested in what he has to say.”

Finally, Mullins rose, and so did his voice.

“I’ll keep you informed,” he said with confidence. As he tucked his phone away, she said something quietly to him.

“I will,” he replied. “Now I’d better get started. It’s a long drive and the roads can be treacherous.”

I elbowed Mr. Dante. “He’s driving somewhere. That means he’s heading to the parking lot.”

“Do you want me to follow him?”

We both acted nonchalant until Mullins passed us.

“I’m going to follow him,” I said, scooping up my rain poncho.

Tessa was someone I could catch up with again. My questions for her could wait. But Mullins was someone I knew little about. And since the man had been spying on me at the hospital, it made me much more interested in getting answers from him tonight.

I whispered to Dante, “You know where to find Detective Quinn. Tell him I’m following a bald man with a mustache named Toby Mullins, and that he should meet me in the parking lot, pronto!”

I hurried to the elevator, slipping into my poncho as I moved.

The car hadn’t arrived yet, and a small crowd had gathered in the waiting area. I mingled with a group of young people, their gazes glued to phone screens.

Keeping my head down, I entered the elevator with the group, which included Toby Mullins. Mustache Man never even looked in my direction. Like everyone else in this phone-fetish future, his attention was completely focused on his small screen.

Mullins didn’t leave through the lobby’s main exit. He went to a pair of doors that led directly to the parking area. I gave him a few seconds before I followed—only to get blocked by a dozen raucous partiers entering the hotel through a door that was clearly marked Exit Only.

Finally, I pushed through the mob and then the doors. Without slowing, I rushed into the cold night.

In the brightly illuminated parking area, misty droplets shimmered like pearls on the cars around me. There was more fog now than rain, but the air was still heavy and damp.

I was determined to follow Mullins, and I wasn’t about to do anything stupid. I wouldn’t attempt to approach him, not without Detective Quinn present, but I would find out what make and model car he was driving—and get the number off the license plate.

As I scanned the lot, I feared I’d lost him. There was no one in sight.

That was when I heard the gunshot.