Page 64 of Grumpy Puck

“Let me see.”He bends down to examine the lock, and every muscle in his body seems to tense.

“Someone broke in,” he says grimly as he straightens.His hands ball into tight fists.

“You think?”I push on the door, and it opens.

The lock was clearly tampered with.

“Stay here,” Michael orders.“I’m going in to?—”

“No.”I grab his elbow.“What if they’re still there?”

There’s a dark gleam in his eyes.“That’s what I’m hoping for.”

I tighten my grip on him.“No.I forbid it.”

“You forbid it?”He frees his arm and narrows his eyes.

“You could get hurt.”And just the thought of it fills my insides with liquid nitrogen.

“Your stalker is about to get hurt, not me.”The chilling way he says the words reminds me of that terrifying mauling scene fromTheRevenant.

I gape at him.“You think this is related to?—”

“Yes.I do.”

I grab his arm again.“In that case, Ireallydon’t want you going in there.What if this psycho has a gun?”

He shrugs.“It would still not be a fair fight.”

It’s official.Testosterone is a toxin.“Please.Don’t.I’m worried he’ll get past you and then grab me.”

“Oh.”Michael turns my way, concern written all over his features.“I didn’t think of that.Go downstairs.Now.”

“No.We’re going together.”

He looks reluctant, so I add, “What if the stalker is the lobby?”

“Right,” he grits out.“Let’s go.”

We take the elevator together, sprint to the concierge, and explain the situation.Soon, two police officers appear, as well as a woman who seems to be upper management of this chain of hotels.The cops go up to the suite, but when they come back, they tell us no one was inside—and that the room didn’t seem to have been ransacked.

“Except for the bear suit,” says the cop with the beard.“Someone ripped that up.”

My mascot suit?Why?

“You should go see if anything is missing,” says the manager.

We agree, and she accompanies us alongside the police as we head upstairs.We find that everything is indeed in order, except for my suit, which someone has cut into teddy-bear-sized chunks.

“Who would do this?”I goggle at the poor suit.

“And why?”the manager asks.

“Some weird fan?”the bearded cop suggests.

“I think it’s a stalker,” Michael says.“Someone who’s after Calliope.”He glowers at the suit.“I think this was some sort of a sick ritual.”

Wow.That’s dark.Does he think whoever did this was picturing me inside the suit as he mangled it?

---