"Miss Smith?" Hank called again, his tone sharp.
"Coming!" she yelled back.
She slid the door open with her foot, then helped Jon inside. As he lowered himself down, she reached up to the shelf above and grabbed the spare blankets, shaking them out to drape over him.
Jon touched her hand lightly. "Be careful."
Maddie nodded and covered his face with the second blanket. She slid the wardrobe door closed then ran to open the suite door.
"Miss Smith, are you all right?" Hank asked, as she opened the door. Maddie pushed the damp ringlets out of her eyes and forced a bright smile.
"Yes, of course I am. What can I do for you, Mr. Stewart?" His dark eyes met hers, and for an instant, delved deep into her soul. She clenched her fingers against the door handle and tore her gaze away. Her imagination was taking a trip again—there was no way on this Earth he could see into her soul. Too many late nights and horror movies for sure.
"As I said, I've been checking for broken windows." The warm tone of his voice belied the coldness in his eyes. "Have you had a chance to look around yet?"
He lied. How she knew she wasn't sure. Maybe it was the twitch near his thin mouth. But what did it matter? She had no choice but to let him in. She nodded. "I was just getting ready to come down and tell you that the bathroom window's broken."
"I'll have a look at it if you don't mind, and see if I can repair it tonight or not."
Maddie minded very much but stepped back, allowing him to walk past her. She half-turned to follow, then stopped, noticing a smear of blood on the door handle. What the...? She raised her hand and saw her fingers were bleeding again... Oh lord, there's blood on the bathroom floor.
She spun and ran to the bedroom, almost slamming into Hank as he came back out.
"Oh, sorry," she muttered, slipping out of his reach when he tried to steady her.
"In a bit of a hurry, huh?" His eyebrow raised in query. There was nothing in his tone or his eyes that hinted at suspicion, yet she felt it wrap around her. She squeezed her fingers together and remained silent. It was obvious he wouldn't believe her, no matter what she said.
"Bit of blood on the floor," he continued.
She nodded and held up her hand. "I slipped and fell on the glass. Guess that'll teach me to walk around in the dark."
He looked at her blood-covered fingers and frowned. He knew, as she did, that there was more blood on the bathroom floor than the cut on her fingers would allow.
"I'll get some plastic and cover the hole until morning," he muttered, walking past her.
She watched him leave then walked into the bedroom. Nothing appeared to have been touched. She moved across the room and opened the wardrobe. Jon pulled down an edge of the blanket and looked at her, but she held up her hand. At least he was still safe. Not that Hank could've disposed of Jon in the short space of time he'd been out of her sight. There was no way out of the room except through the front door where she'd been standing.
So how had Jon gotten in here in the first place? Even she, as slender as she was, couldn't get through the bathroom window.
She closed the door then turned and smiled as a cat sauntered through the bedroom doorway.
"Hi kitty," she said softly, walking over to it.
She bent down and held out her hand. Did the sleek black creature belong to the inn or to Hank? Somehow, she couldn't imagine the night manager with a pet, although the cat must have followed him into the room.
The cat stopped. The look in its jewel-like green eyes was oddly contemptuous. Maddie frowned. The cat in the forest had had eyes just like that, eyes that could chill a person's soul.
The cat regarded her for a moment longer, then snarled and lashed out. Maddie snatched her fingers away and stood up. "Be unfriendly then. See if I care." Hank came back into the room, carrying plastic and tape.
"Don't mind Lennie," he said, continuing on into the bathroom. "She just doesn't like women."
Or men, Maddie would have bet. As if reading her thoughts, the cat flicked its tail in disdain and sauntered past, heading straight for the wardrobe door.
"Oh no, you don't." She stepped in front of the cat and tried to scoot it away with her foot. The sleek creature hunkered down and hissed, its eyes green slits of anger.
"Glare all you like, sweetheart, you're not getting in my wardrobe."
"Maybe she just smells a mouse or two," Hank commented. Her pulse jumped, and she glanced up quickly. Hank leaned against the bathroom door, arms crossed as he studied her. This time there was definitely suspicion in his bright gaze.