Hurricanes in Paradise (38 page)

“And it’s usually stupid, too,” Laine said, pulling a black ponytail holder out of her soaked purse and tugging at her wet hair until she looked sleek.

“Obviously y’all have never met some of the women I’ve competed with.”

Winnie and Laine looked at each other. “Touché,” Laine responded.

“So we’re just going to go into the office and look through Mia’s stuff and find everything we need and save the day like in some pathetic novel,” Tamyra scoffed.

Winnie chuckled, and the Styrofoam cup she held in her hands shook with her. “I think she just dissed you.”

“I don’t know if I’m more horrified over the fact that she called novels pathetic or that you just said
dissed
.”

Tamyra wrapped her hands around the arms of her white pin-striped suit jacket. “This is crazy. All of it. We’re about to go through a hurricane. We’re still in our clothes from last night. We’re about to break and enter.”

“I have no intentions of breaking anything,” Winnie interjected. “I have an appreciation for nice things.”

Laine laughed.

“You two laugh. But I’m not going to jail.”

Laine pushed lightly on her arm. “My word, woman, you’re wound tight. I thought you got set free over there on that water ride.”

“Well, I can’t do anything without brushing my teeth,” Tamyra said. “Are y’all not at least going to your rooms to freshen up?”

Winnie and Laine scanned each other again. They both shrugged their shoulders. “Have you seen yourselves?” Tamyra questioned.

Winnie answered. “We’re about to go through a hurricane, Tamyra. I don’t think the fact that our breath stinks or that we’ve been in the same outfits for almost a day is going to be of any real significance.”

“And with the hurricanes we’ve been through this week, I’d say the welfare of my teeth isn’t high on my list of to-dos either. Plus, I just fixed my hair,” Laine retorted.

“Well, all I can say is, if you two question Mia looking and smelling the way you do, she’ll give you whatever information you need with no problem.” Tamyra immediately noticed the glint in Laine’s eyes. “I’m not getting in trouble, Laine Fulton.”

“No, but if you’re going to your room, that will be the ideal cover. When you get there, call Mia and act like you’ve had an emergency. That will give me and Winnie plenty of time to get in there, see what we can find out, and then get out without having to confront her.”

“And what, pray tell, am I going to have an emergency about?”

“A broken nail?” Laine huffed. “I don’t know! What do beauty queens have emergencies over? Be demanding. Be obnoxious. Tell her your peanuts are out and no one refilled them. Dump your Coca-Colas down the drain and tell her you can’t go two hours without one. Be creative. Surely world peace is not the only thing you can talk about.”

“I can talk about pitiful romance novels,” Tamyra quipped.

“Children. Enough,” Winnie intervened. “Tamyra, you go to your room. Call Mia in about ten minutes and tell her that you are freaking out about the storm. You wish you had gone home. But now you can’t get out. But make sure she is the one you get. And tell her you want her specifically. Not to send anyone else up.”

“Then stall,” Laine said.

“I’ll give you ladies thirty minutes. And if you can’t get it done in thirty minutes, you need to make sure you don’t quit your day jobs.”

“She’s sassy for a swizzle stick,” Laine said.

“We have our assignments.” Winnie was well into the act.

Tamyra shook her head. “Go live out your fantasies, ladies.”

Winnie giggled as she pulled Laine down the breezeway, the wind all but picking up her pudgy frame. If it hadn’t been for all the rhinestones, she would have surely flown away.

* * *

Tamyra slid her key into the door and the light turned green. She heard the bolt dislodge and turned the handle, entering the tranquility of her room. The real hurricane headed for them was nothing compared to the storm that had blown through last night. She mumbled beneath her breath at the two women who were forcing her to lie. She hated lying. That was part of the reason she had run away. But avoidance felt as much like lying to her as telling a bald-faced one. And just when she had decided she wasn’t going to avoid the truth anymore, they were making her lie all over again.

She set her key down on the small console table against the front entrance wall and walked into her room, dimly lit by the cloud-covered view. She noticed that the beds had yet to be made. Probably with the storm, the staff was exceptionally taxed. Her eyes scanned the sitting area. Her blood all but stopped flowing when she saw a figure sitting on the sofa. Everything that accompanied terror swept through her body: her pulse quickened, sweat broke out on her forehead, and her feet wouldn’t move. He spoke first.

“You’re a hard one to find, Tamyra.” Jason stood. His six-foot-five, three-hundred-pound frame all but shut out what light was coming from the sliding-glass doors.

She tried to get out a sound, but her voice was gone. Fear had stripped it bare. She reached over and grabbed ahold of the table.

He took a step forward. “I thought you’d rush over here to see me.”

Her mind tried desperately to calculate how quickly she could turn around and get out of the door and into the hall screaming before he reached her.

He stepped closer. She knew it was now or never. She turned as quickly as she could, grasped for the door handle. It slipped from the sweat that already encased her palms. She reached for it again in a frantic attempt and pulled down hard; the click of it unlocking reverberated as loud in her ears as shots from a twenty-one-gun salute. She pulled it open, sensing a moment of freedom as the air from the hallway rushed in, but before she could get her head out and make her feet follow, Jason was on her and had the door slammed shut. She panted as both of his hands flew above her head and held the door in place. Her head fell against the wood of the door. Tears wanted to follow the fear, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

His hands reached for her arms and jerked her around. Before she could stabilize herself on her feet, the back of his hand connected with the side of her head and sent her spinning into the table by the door. It thudded loud against the wall as her head connected with the corner and gashed a two-inch slit right through her forehead above her left eye. Blood gushed quickly down her face as she grabbed for the corner of the table and tried to pull herself up.

He didn’t wait. He jerked her up and pulled her toward him. The rapid movement and loss of blood left her certain she was about to pass out. She wished she had. “So you thought I wouldn’t find you?”

“I prayed you wouldn’t find me,” she whispered.

He pushed her into the bedroom and threw her across the bed. She pushed herself back frantically and grabbed at a pillow, pulling it in front of her. She moved quickly to the side of the bed, put her feet firmly on the floor, and stood up quickly.

“Well, looks like your God is laughing at you, wouldn’t you say?”

She felt an intense anger rise up from somewhere inside her soul. An anger she had never known. It was extremely passionate. Righteous, even. The boldness of it made her find her voice even though her body was trembling. She wiped at her chin, where the blood had fallen. Her words came out solid and steady. “You lie to me. You give me a disease that leads to death. And then you come in here thinking you can beat me?” She stepped toward him.

He stepped around the side of the bed. “No, Tamyra, I came in here to kill you.”

The second blow sent her reeling. Her body tumbled across the bed and landed on the other side. Another gash opened up below her left eye. But the pain shooting through her body had her gasping for air. She tried to open her eyes but couldn’t even will them open. He came around the other side of the bed and jerked her to her feet once again.

He threw her back on the bed. She screamed out in pain. The full weight of his body straddled her. The vileness of his words spewed across her while the pummeling blows he pounded her with broke most of the bones in her face. She was sure she could hear them as they cracked. She prayed she would die. And when his large hands came around the base of her slender throat and sucked all the air from her lungs, she was certain she would. When she blacked out, she hoped for death. “God, help me” leaked from her lips. It was the last thing she remembered.

* * *

Winnie sat on a bench in the reception lobby, a magazine stuck in front of her face.

“Winnie, Mia has had dinner with you. Trust me, she’s going to recognize you. There is no need to hide. That’s why we have to wait until she’s gone.”

Winnie talked from behind her
Southern Living
. “But I’ve always wanted to be a private investigator. Didn’t you write about a private investigator once?”

“A long time ago, and she didn’t hide behind magazines. And it sure wouldn’t have been
Southern Living
. Where did you get that anyway?”

“From my room. I brought it with me. And thank you for giving me five minutes to change. Wet denim can chafe your thighs.”

“Yeah, I was tired of that black dress. I just didn’t want to give Tamyra the satisfaction of knowing I needed to change.”

Winnie dipped her head down and stared at Laine from behind dark sunglasses.

“Seriously, we haven’t seen the sun for two days; do you not think those are a little dramatic? Plus, my characters would never hide behind such a ridiculous getup.”

“Oh, that’s right. Your last character hid behind her sexual prowess.”

“Are you calling her a slut?”

“No, I would call her a hussy, tramp, floozy, but you’re the author.”

“And you’re the devoted reader, Miss Baptist.” Laine fidgeted on the bench. “What in the world is taking her so long? This is ridiculous. She had one little task. Make a phone call. Tell a lie. And get on with it. You’d think we asked her to feign death.”

“She doesn’t like lying. You ought to have seen her trying to get me to dinner with Albert. Plus, she’s pretty pitiful at it. Why did we pick her for that part anyway?”

“Because she’s a beauty queen. They all lie about something. So have you talked to him today?”

She raised the magazine back up. “No, I haven’t talked to him since last night. Doubt he’ll ever want to talk to me again. I’ve left him standing there completely alone twice in one week. Would you want to talk to me again?”

“I’m sure he figured out it wasn’t about you last night.”

“Yes, I think Riley’s inability to keep her hands to herself and the announcement of you being an adulterer let him know I was pretty mild in comparison.”

Before Laine could react, they watched as Mia took off past their window and down the hall toward the suites. “Gracious, she must have come up with a doozy,” Winnie said.

“Who cares what she told her. We don’t have much time.” Laine got up and snatched Winnie off the bench. Winnie dropped her magazine and followed Laine. They entered the glass doors of the offices and looked around. All the offices were empty.

Winnie walked around the counter, then looked at Laine. “What are we looking for anyway?”

“I don’t know. I just write about detectives. Look for anything that looks suspicious—faxes, e-mails, anything. And take those fool glasses off,” Laine said, walking around the counter too.

Winnie took the glasses off and pulled a large stack of manila folders from beneath the counter, each immaculately labeled. “She has excellent penmanship.”

Laine sighed heavily. “Winnie, seriously.”

“Well, she does. It’s hard to find that nowadays.”

Laine muttered, “So is good help.”

“I heard that.”

“I’m glad.”

Winnie picked up a folder labeled
E-mails
and began to rummage through them. Nothing looked worth anything. She picked up the folder of faxes and found one from Thursday morning at nine, stating that Max’s guests would arrive earlier than expected. “What time did Riley join us yesterday to take Tamyra down the rapids?”

Laine shook her head. “I think it was around eleven, wasn’t it? Isn’t that when we went down to the pool?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Mia told her the fax had come through right after she left.”

Winnie pursed her lips, shook her head, and dangled a piece of paper in front of her. “Well, she lied. It came in at 9 a.m.”

Laine looked up from the papers she was rummaging through. She snatched it from Winnie’s hand. “So she would have known before Riley even left that they were coming. She deliberately didn’t tell her so she could look like the woman who saved the day.”

“That’s what I’m thinking.”

She was enjoying this whole sleuthing bit. Until she saw Laine’s eyes change as she pushed her slightly out of her way. “Is that her purse?”

Winnie turned; a black Chanel bag sat in an open drawer.

Laine snatched it out and set it on the floor, knelt down and dumped its contents out, splattering them across the carpet in front of her.

“Oh, my side, you are not going through that woman’s purse.”