“Some of it feels really twisted.” He reached down, opened the briefcase, and took out his gun and a lockpick. “Wait out here while I take a look around.”
Lyra’s first instinct was to argue, but common sense told her he was better equipped to go in first. He was the one with the gun. She added a pistol to the list of items she needed to purchase if she was going to stay in the investigation business.
Simon got the service door open. He moved into the heavily shadowed space and stood quietly for a moment. She felt energy shift in the atmosphere.
“This room is empty,” he said. He walked across the space to the interior door and opened it. He aimed his flashlight down the central hallway. “No one in the hall, either. You can come in. Bring the briefcase.”
She gripped the handle of the briefcase and tried to hoist it. The case didn’t move. “This weighs a ton.”
“The case is lined with a steel plate,” Simon said. “Can you manage it?”
She leaned down and used both hands to lift the briefcase.
“No problem,” she gasped.
She staggered into the room and kicked the door shut behind her. “What are we looking for?”
“Anything that might tell us where they are holding Raina. The only other alternative we’ve got is to visit every building, house, shed, or barn within a two-hour radius of the pickup location. It’s not as if we’ve got a handy road map of all the abandoned cabins scattered around this desert. We need a starting point.” Simon paused. “What is that smell?”
“It’s Violet perfume,” Lyra said. “Guppy’s signature scent. I told you it was a bit heavy.”
“Heavy is right. A man could choke on it.”
“Brace yourself. The entire spa smells like this.”
There was enough moonlight seeping through the half-closed blinds to reveal shelves filled with Guppy’s House of Beauty products. Stacks of neatly folded sheets and towels were piled high in one corner. Robes hung from hooks on the wall.
“Don’t switch on your flashlight,” Simon said. “There are windows in here. I doubt if there is anyone around outside at this hour of the night, but you never know.”
“There aren’t any windows in the central hallway,” Lyra said. “Guppy’s office is at the far end, just off the lobby. There is a window in that room, but there are also blinds and drapes.”
“That should work.”
Simon started down the hall.
Lyra hurried after him, lugging the briefcase.
The doors of all of the treatment rooms were closed.
“I hope Luther Pell gets some useful information out of Angela Merryweather,” she said.
“Luther is very good at interrogation. He takes a different approach than you do but he knows how to get people to talk.”
“In other words, he’ll scare the daylights out of poor Mrs. Merryweather?”
“Only if it’s absolutely necessary.”
“She was kidnapped. She is probably still traumatized.”
“Luther will understand that.”
They reached the end of the hall and stopped in front of the door markedoffice. It was locked.
Simon made short work of the lock, switched off his flashlight, and opened the door, gun in hand.
There was no one inside. The curtains were tightly pulled across the single window.
“You take the file cabinet,” Simon said. He switched on his flashlight. “I’ll check the desk and the safe.”
