Page 40 of The Lady Has a Past

“If Raina is in two twenty-one she’s going to be furious when she finds out we followed her,” Lyra warned.

“Don’t start having second thoughts now. We’re here because you and Luther Pell are convinced Miss Kirk is in trouble, remember?”

Lyra straightened her shoulders. “Right. You agreed with us, as I recall.”

“I did. Relax. If Miss Kirk is angry about our presence here at the hotel, we will tell her Luther Pell sent us to make sure she’s all right. She won’t blame us. I understand she’s been seeing Pell exclusively for a while now. If that’s true then she must know that very few people say no to Pell.”

Lyra looked more cheerful. “True.”

Room two twenty-one proved to be the very last one in the hallway. It was a short distance from the service stairs and the fire escape.

“The name of the guest who checked into this room is Miss Granville,” Simon said.

“If this is Raina’s room, she certainly took the least convenient suite in the hotel,” Lyra said. “I’m sure she travels first-class. A room next to the service stairs is hardly her style.”

“It was a good choice if she wanted privacy,” Simon pointed out. He glanced back down the hallway. “The neighboring rooms are empty.”

“How do you know that?”

“I checked the keys hanging behind the desk. The one to this room was gone but the keys for the neighboring rooms were still on the hooks.”

“You’re right,” Lyra said. “She must have wanted privacy. Otherwise I’m sure she would have objected to being stuck at the end of the hall.”

“Maybe the person she came here to meet is the one who doesn’twant to be seen coming and going from Miss Kirk’s room,” Simon said. “They could both be using the service stairs to meet privately.”

“You know, I’m learning a lot from you. I should probably start taking notes.”

He told himself it was a good thing she considered him useful—it was a step up from his previous status as an object of her insatiable curiosity. Nevertheless, he was irritated.

“Instructors get paid,” he said. “Remind me to bill you when we’re finished.”

“I’ll do that.”

They stopped in front of two twenty-one. Lyra rapped sharply.

There was no response.

She knocked again. Louder this time.

When no one came to the door she looked at Simon.

“Now what?” she asked.

He heightened his senses and raised his hand to knock.

The scars burned.

Slowly he lowered his hand and gingerly touched the doorknob. The jolt of hot energy made him grimace.

Lyra had gone still beside him. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” he said, keeping his voice low. “But something violent happened in this room.”

She did not question the observation or accuse him of imagining things. She took his words as a statement of fact.

“We’ve got to get inside,” she whispered.

He tried the doorknob. It was locked. He reached into his pocket, took out the small lockpick, and went to work.

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