She walked through the doorway and stopped in her tracks. One man was pulling out the desk drawers, and a second was on his knees, looking under the bed.

“Is everything okay in here?” Claire asked in her small, trying-to-be-the-boss voice.

The man halfway under the bed popped up and flashed a smile. “Hi there. I’m Special Agent Alvarez, and this is Special Agent McCoy. We’re with the FBI.”

So much for it being a prank. “Hi! Nice to meet you. I’m Claire. Claire Cooke.”

Agent Alvarez shook her hand, as did Agent McCoy. Claire stared at them, a smile frozen on her face.

“Just the lady we were hoping to meet,” Agent Alvarez said. “Is there somewhere we can go to talk?”

“Yes, of course. Is something wrong? We can talk here, no problem, anywhere you like.” She lowered herself onto a nearby chair.

Rhonda, the housekeeper, popped out of the bathroom. “Gigi said that the guests for this room requested an early check-in.”

“Oh,” Claire nodded, shooting up from her seat. “Of course. Sorry Rhonda. Ah – let’s talk downstairs.”

They both smiled and followed her out of the room. Claire led them down the hallway and into the elevator, her mind racing.

Had a guest gone missing or something? Did she file her taxes wrong? That wouldn’t be the FBI, though.

Unless…perhaps her jump from a salary of less than sixty thousand dollars a year to a windfall of six million dollars was exactly the sort of thing the FBI looked into?

Once the elevator doors shut, she couldn’t help herself. “Is everything okay? Did something happen to my girls?”

“Oh no, nothing like that. Don’t worry yourself,” said Agent Alvarez. “But we do have some concerns about your son.”

Ding! The doors opened into the lobby.

“My son?” Claire said slowly, taking a step out. “I don’t have a son.”

The agents shot each other a look before motioning forward; there were people waiting to get in the elevator. Claire apologized and got out of the way.

The only office in the hotel was Chip’s office. Theoretically, there was a desk for her in there, too, but Chip wouldn’t thank her for kicking him out. Instead she led the agents to the banquet hall which was, thankfully, empty.

“Please, have a seat,” she said, motioning to a table on the far side of the room. The floor-to-ceiling windows revealed a stunning view of the water. It dazzled Claire every time she walked into this room, though this time she was too distracted to appreciate it fully.

“Thank you,” said Agent McCoy. “Miss Cooke, like Agent Alvarez mentioned, we’re here to talk to you about your son.”

She shifted in her seat. “Yes, but as I’ve said, I don’t have a son. I have three daughters – Lucy, Lillian, and Rose.”