Mick’s hand was shaking slightly as he tapped his room key on the pad. Red light. “Damn.” He tapped it again, slower this time. Green light. He turned the handle and opened the door. “Sarah?” he called, even though he could feel the vacant emptiness of the room. “Sarah!” He jogged through the living room to the bedroom.

She wasn’t there.

“Sarah!” He burst into the bathroom even though it was pointless. He knew before the door bashed into the doorstop that the bathroom was empty. “Dammit.” He ran his hands agitatedly through his hair, rubbing his scalp in an attempt to force his brain cells to think . . . Think!

Nothing.

He reentered the bedroom, his eyes scanning for clues. Her purse is gone. Her shoes are, too. Not her coat, though. Why didn’t she bring her coat? Must have stayed in the hotel. Downstairs maybe, in the restaurant getting a bite to eat! He was on the move, back out of the bedroom into the living room, heading for the door, when he saw out of the corner of his eye a piece of paper placed on the coffee table. He snatched it up.

Mick,

Phillip called. I’m meeting up with him. Have to break the news about Vicki. It’s not going to be fun. Love you. Hope you weren’t stuck too long at the station.

—Sarah xo