blasted through the air and bounced from the side of the building where Fawn Morrison crouched, panting from the run, terrified. She was at least three city blocks from the hotel-theater complex she’d escaped, and panic continued to shake her body so hard she could barely get enough air into her lungs. Red-white-blue lights reflected across the parking lot. She could only gamble that no one driving into the lot would catch a glimpse of her dress from beyond the thick hedge that shielded her.
She knew that if she moved quickly, she had a better chance of escape, but still she squatted in the shadows. All she wanted to do was pull herself into a tight little ball and block everything out.
She reached into her purse for a hair clip, twisted her long blond hair into a knot at the back of her head and anchored it. She pulled her bangs out of the stiff helmet of dried hair gel she’d used to keep them off her forehead. They made her look younger. Too young for her taste—like about fourteen—but it might save her hide to look younger, just for tonight. Now if she could get out of this dress, and scrape off some of this makeup….
As the whine of the sirens died, she limped along the edge of the building to a tall privacy fence that she guessed shielded the cast entrance for this theater. A searchlight flickered across the treetops at the theater next door. In spite of her ankle, she ran to the fence, jumped up and grasped the top edge, pulling herself up, kicking hard to swing herself over. Splinters gouged her arms and legs, and she gasped with the pain as she dropped to the asphalt on the other side.
The shriek of sirens continued to split the air as Fawn limped to a concrete loading dock. She climbed the steps and tested the door. It slid open, and she slipped inside to be overwhelmed by the smell of roast beef and onions, and the clatter of cookware. A kitchen. As late as it was, they would be cleaning up after a banquet, maybe. Or this could be a dinner theater. Judging by the size of the five-story structure, this, too, was a hotel-theater complex, which was a good thing.
She passed by a broad doorway and crept as quietly as she could along the shadowy hall. If she could find her way to the connecting hotel—
“Hey, you!” came a sharp male voice from the bright kitchen.
Going cold all over, she turned to see a thin-haired man standing beside a stack of pots and pans at a huge sink. He wore a white shirt and slacks and an apron.
“You lost?” he asked.
“Uh, yeah. Where’s the ladies’ room?”
“Back out the Staff Only entrance and to your right,” he said drily, tossing a towel over his shoulder as he gave her a once-over.
She nodded and continued along the service corridor until she knew she’d be out of sight of the kitchen, then she opened a door to her right. The lights were off, of course, but the hallway fluorescents revealed a small office. No good place to hide. She checked the next room down on her left, but it was locked. Several yards farther, the next door on her right, was a linen room, complete with huge stacks of towels, aprons and uniforms.
This could work! They did it in all the movies—people sneaking into the closet of a hospital and pulling on a doctor’s lab coat so they could blend in with the hospital staff. She could blend in. She’d worked at a hotel for a couple of weeks.
After a hopeless search for a light switch in the room—this must be one of those places where a master switch was located elsewhere—she pulled a tiny key-chain flashlight from her purse, stepped into the room, closed the door behind her. The thin stream of light flickered, threatening to go out as she grabbed a set of whites from the top of a stack in front of her. The pants would’ve fit an elephant. The next set in the stack looked as if they might fit. She pulled a hairnet from a package on the shelf beside the clothes. Of course there were no shoes.
She stripped off her dress and shoved it deep behind a stack of tablecloths. The clothes fit—the bottoms were a little too snug around her hips, but she could still move without ripping them. She pulled the black hairnet over her head and tucked her bangs beneath it. With the clip holding her hair up off her shoulders, she might get away with this. Except for her shoes. Still, she couldn’t go barefoot.
The tiny flashlight flickered out as she tugged on her shoes. She couldn’t coax any more from it. Should’ve changed the battery last week.
She felt around in the darkness for her purse, and was slinging the strap over her head when she heard the sound of purposeful footsteps and a man’s deep voice.
“…police department. I need to ask you some questions.”
The footsteps stopped, and Fawn caught her breath.
“I don’t think any crooks or bad guys came through here tonight, if that’s what you mean,” came the voice of the dishwasher who’d given her directions to the bathroom. “Just people from the dinner theater.”
“Is the show over?”
“Should have been over about fifteen minutes or so ago.”
“Did anyone come through this way recently? A woman in a blue dress, blond hair?”
Fawn bit the inside of her cheek. No, please don’t tell him.
“Hey, you kidding? Sure did,” came the reply. “Blue dress? Really pretty?”
“Sounds right.”
“She was in here just a few minutes ago. Looked a little spooked, if you ask me. What happened, Officer?”
“We just need to question her.” There was a sound of static, like one of those walkie-talkie things Fawn’s Uncle Ralph used to have. “We need to have a look around.”
“Okay by me, but I’m not the one you have to ask. My boss—”
“We’ll take care of that. If you don’t mind, you just ease out of the building for a few minutes. There’s been a double murder, and we’re investigating.”
“Murder! You’re not kidding me? Right here in Branson?”
Fawn froze. Oh, Bruce, no. She squeezed her eyes shut and moaned softly.
There was a thunk on the linen-room door, and then the knob turned slightly. “What’s in here?”
Fawn braced herself to make a dive for the floor.
“Towels and stuff.”
“Okay, we’ll want to check it, too. Why don’t you go ahead and get hold of your boss, and I’ll have a talk with him, get the master switch turned on down here. But meanwhile we need to get some backup in here.” The voices became somewhat fainter, but they didn’t go away completely. Fawn slid down beside a rack of towels and buried her face in her hands. She was trapped.
Oh, Bruce…he was really dead. Harv had killed him. And who else had he killed? The bellman?
And what was she going to do?
Karah Lee huddled against the passenger door of the ranger’s SUV, doing her best to control Monster’s movements within the circle of her arms as the ranger took the sharp curves at a sedate speed. “It wasn’t the bump on the head that made me sick. Really. Ouch!” She eased Monster’s front paws up and away from her shoulder, wincing as the sharp
