“Victoria?” Simon called from downstairs.

  Hearing Simon trudging up the stairs, Darren pulled the bathroom door almost closed, leaving it open just enough to watch for Simon.

  “Are you feeling any better?” he asked Victoria as he walked into the room.

  When she didn’t respond, Simon bent over her body to check her breathing and pulse.

  “Victoria?” he said, lightly slapping her cheek. “Victoria! Wake up!”

  Simon drew back the covers, picked up her limp body, and laid her on the floor to start CPR.

  Freeing Esperanza from his grasp, Darren glared at her menacingly and put his finger to his lips. Then he pulled the syringe from his pocket. From the level of liquid, she could see that it still contained a powerful dose of succinylcholine.

  She shook her head violently, the tears running down her face. Darren glared at her again before slowly opening the door. As he snuck up behind Simon, Esperanza watched helplessly until she couldn’t stand it anymore.

  “Look out!” she yelled.

  Still on his knees next to Victoria, the doctor turned to see Darren coming toward him. They struggled to get control of the syringe, but Simon was unable to stop Darren from plunging it into the side of his neck.

  “What the hell was that?” Simon asked, touching the injection site.

  Esperanza felt an indescribable heaviness as she saw the confusion and betrayal in Dr. Fontaine’s eyes. It was chilling how calm and cruel Darren was acting.

  “Succinylcholine,” Darren said in that same matter-of-fact monotone.

  As the drug started to take effect, Simon got up and staggered out of the room. He made it down a few steps before they heard him fall, then the bump, bump, bump of him rolling down the stairs to rest on the landing.

  Esperanza came out of the bathroom, shaking, to see Darren with the strangest smile. She ran past him and looked down at the jumbled heap of Dr. Fontaine lying near the bottom of the staircase. Her knees gave out and she crumpled to the floor, wailing. She was mortified that Darren had killed these two people, both of whom had always been good to her.

  “You need to leave right now,” Darren said so unemotionally that she didn’t even know him. “Go back to the office and get whatever drug log or inventory paperwork you need to change to prevent anyone from knowing that this vial is missing.”

  “How could you do this to people you’ve known your whole life?” Esperanza asked between sobs.

  “Simon wasn’t supposed to be here. But now he’s collateral damage. My dad told me to do whatever it takes, and that’s what I did,” he said.

  “But you killed her . . . and her baby too.”

  “If anyone asks, tell them she was upset about the pregnancy. She sleeps around so much I’d bet she didn’t even know who the father was. Probably tricked Alex into thinking it was his. They’re both addicts and always will be. She was under a lot of pressure lately at work too. Then her father came home and found her. With her history of addiction and suicide attempts, he was so distraught that she’d overdosed that he had a heart attack right there on the stairs. He fell, hit his head, and died. This stuff doesn’t turn up in tox screens. You know that, right?”

  Darren grabbed Esperanza by the neck and put his face two inches from hers. “If you tell anyone about this, you’ll be dead too,” he said.

  Chapter 58

  Katrina

  Friday

  “I still don’t understand why you didn’t go to the police with this,” Katrina said. “They can protect you even while they’re building a case.”

  “This is too big, and they’ve got someone on the inside. I didn’t know what else to do but get drunk. I gave Detective Goode the log, which I never changed, hoping that he’d figure it out. But after you left me that message, I was scared that Darren was going to hurt you too. I’ve read all your stories. You seem like an honest person.”

  As nice as that was to hear, Katrina now realized that both of them were in serious danger. She could only hope that Goode wasn’t too busy to get them out of the hotel safely.

  He can’t hide anything from me or keep it off the record anymore, because this time I’ve got Esperanza’s story in my notebook.

  “Hold tight,” she said. “I’ve got to make another call.”

  Getting his voicemail again, she left a rather anxious-sounding message, tripping over her words.

  “It’s Katrina, and now it’s urgent. I’m still in room 324 with Esperanza. You need to get over here ASAP. You’re right. We’re both in imminent danger.”

  She was about to call Stone, and then hotel security, when there was a knock on the door.

  Katrina and Esperanza looked at each other, neither sure what to do. She didn’t expect Goode this fast, and she didn’t want to open it for anyone else.

  “Who is it?” she asked from across the room.

  “Espee, open up,” a woman said. “It’s Darla.”

  Esperanza looked at Katrina again, questioningly. Katrina didn’t like it, but she apparently took too long to respond, because Esperanza was already opening the door. As soon as she turned the door handle, Darren stormed past her. Darla remained outside, apparently as a lookout, after the door swung shut on its own.

  Darren headed straight toward Katrina, carrying a syringe, cocked and ready.

  Did Esperanza set me up?

  “The police are on their way,” Katrina said, backing away from him.

  “I’ll be gone by the time they get here,” he said.

  There was no time to think. He grabbed her around the middle and swung her around so her back was to him. Jamming his knee into the back of hers, her legs buckled as he pushed her, face first, to the floor.

  Quickly reaching out to try to break her fall, she landed knees first and palms second and tried to scramble away. But he got ahold of her sweater and held it tight.

  There was nowhere for her to go. The cramped space between the two beds ahead of her ended with a nightstand.

  He straddled her lower back, then sat down, putting all his weight on top of her. She couldn’t see behind her, but she heard Esperanza crying and punching Darren’s back.

  “Stop it, Espee,” he said, as if he were scolding a child.

  Katrina felt him moving off her a little, only to come down even harder, as Esperanza tugged at him.

  “Get him off me!” Katrina yelled. “Help!”

  She tried to buck him off, but he was too strong and too heavy. Katrina felt a sharp, piercing pain in the lower part of her right butt cheek.

  “Ow!” she shrieked. “What was that?”

  Did he just shoot me up with succinylcholine?

  “No,” Esperanza screamed, “not again.”

  Darren didn’t respond. While Katrina was in shock at being jabbed, he quickly grabbed her arms, one at a time, crossed them at the wrists behind her back, and pushed her face into the carpet to squelch her screams.

  Based on Esperanza’s earlier explanation, she knew she had only a couple of minutes before her lungs quit working and another minute or two before her heart stopped beating. All she could hope was that he’d hit some of the fattier muscle tissue, which might buy her a little more time.

  The paralysis slowly rolled across her hips and up her torso in a wave, surging out to her arms and legs. As she lost control of her limbs, he continued to sit on her until she stopped squirming.

  When she was no longer able to resist, he got off her and stood up.

  Just like in her childhood nightmares, Katrina couldn’t move. She tried to yell for help, but no sound came out. All she could do was lie there.

  Is this real or is this another nightmare? Will I wake up, sweating, in my own bed?

  “Let’s go,” Darren said to Esperanza, who was sobbing.

  “But she’s going to die!” she wailed.

  Lying with her head to the side and her ear pressed into the carpet, Katrina couldn’t see anything but their legs as Darren dragged Esperanza out the door.

  Did she play me? Or was she working both sides against the middle, hoping that someone would rescue them before Darren arrived? And Darla? She turned out to be quite the vixen after all.

  Katrina didn’t know what to think as she struggled to breathe, feeling panicked and trapped in her own body.

  “Go home, Katrina.” Why didn’t you listen?

  She felt woozy.

  God, is this what Huntington’s feels like? I still haven’t accomplished what I wanted in life. I’m not ready to go yet. Where is Goode?

  She’d never been so scared in her life. Then, everything faded to black.

  Chapter 59

  Goode

  Friday

  Goode thought he’d given Katrina a stern-enough warning—especially after camping outside her apartment for two nights—that she’d go home and lock the door or, alternatively, return to the newsroom.

  So, he went upstairs to join Stone in questioning McMurphy. Outside Winchester’s room, a man built just like Katrina had described was standing guard. Goode was pretty confident that he was the dude in black from the night before.

  “And you are?”

  “Walter Hall. And you are?” the bodyguard said, his eyes darting away.

  What’s with the no eye contact? Did he see me in the doorway last night and know I might recognize him?

  “I’m Detective Ken Goode, San Diego PD Homicide.”

  “You can go on in, Detective,” he said, looking directly ahead.

  “Damn straight, I can.”

  As Goode walked into the room, he was only half surprised that McMurphy was long gone.

  “Where’s McMurphy?” he asked.

  “He was here for only a few minutes to deliver some campaign donations, then he left to join his fiancée,” Winchester replied. “We’re both celebrating our engagements this weekend.”

  “How do you two know each other, exactly?” Stone asked.

  “Through Republican politics. He’s helped raise a lot of money for my reelection campaign over the past couple of years. I’m in a hotly contested race, heavily funded by the DNC. He and his dad have also given me some great legal advice.”

  When Goode got Katrina’s first call, he didn’t pick up because he and Stone were in the middle of confronting Winchester about his hollow claims and trying to determine if he had a role in this fiasco. After quizzing him about his relationship with McMurphy and the Fontaines and all the campaign donations, they asked him for his whereabouts the day of the murders.

  “Congressman, do you like to dress up in uniform?” Goode asked.

  But Winchester wasn’t very forthcoming. “Are you suggesting that I had something to do with the Fontaines’ deaths, Detective? A United States congressman?” he asked, his voice dripping with disdain. “Why would I get involved in something like that? All I want is to do public service.”

  Goode almost laughed out loud. Winchester was still talking nonsense when Katrina’s second call came in. He was going to let it go to voicemail, but decided he’d better go into the bathroom and listen to her messages.

  It’s not like her to call back twice in a row, and so soon after I told her to go home. She knows this is all coming to a head this afternoon.

  As soon as he heard the second voicemail, he burst out of the bathroom and yelled to Stone. “Call the paramedics! Tell them to bring oxygen and be ready to bag Katrina in room 324!”

  Flinging open the door, he tore down the hallway, opting for the fire-escape stairwell rather than wait for the elevator.

  If I don’t get to her in time, she’s going to die. On my watch. Damn her. Why didn’t she listen to me? Because she’s Katrina.

  Even in his running shoes, he tripped over his own feet going down the stairs, almost tumbling head over foot. He managed to stay upright by gripping the metal railing tightly and swinging his body back to center. Once he reached the third-floor exit, he heaved open the door and sprinted down the hall. Thankfully, a maid was in the hallway with her cart.

  “Police! Emergency! Give me your key card!” he yelled. She scrambled to do as he asked, pulling the cord attached to the card from around her neck.

  Quickly shoving it into the reader, he cursed as he got the red light. Trying again, it turned green, allowing him to push the door open.

  Katrina was unconscious on the floor. Barely breathing.

  Dropping to his knees, he pinched her nose and breathed into her mouth. Continuing until the paramedics came through the door several minutes later, he stopped and let them take over.

  Thank God Artie told me what to do. Breathe, Katrina, breathe.

  Chapter 60

  Katrina

  Friday

  When Katrina came to, she felt someone or something breathing air into her mouth. Dizzy, she coughed and gasped as she tried to breathe on her own. Then came the oxygen mask.

  She opened her eyes but couldn’t focus for a moment, though she recognized the voice.

  “Thank God,” Goode said softly. “Welcome back.”

  He came into view now, standing over her, with two paramedics on their knees and an oxygen tank beside her. She moved the mask away to ask a question, but all that came out was a hoarse croak. Her neck was stiff and sore, and she felt bruised, battered, and achy all over.

  But at least I’m alive.

  One of the paramedics handed her a paper cup of water, which she sipped, then coughed again.

  “You scared me. I thought I’d lost you,” Goode said. “You were injected with succinylcholine, but we got to you in time.”

  “Was it you?” she choked out in a weak raspy voice. “Did you save my life?”

  “Yes, I gave you CPR, but it was a team effort.”

  Katrina’s thinking was cloudy, but she knew she had a story to write. The biggest one of her life.

  “I need to get to the newsroom,” she said.

  “I don’t think you’re going anywhere tonight,” Goode said.

  He was right. She could barely move or think straight.

  So, who is going to write my story?

  Flashes from the hotel rooms started coming back to her. Darla and Winchester trying to give her drinks. Esperanza too. Were they trying to sedate her before McMurphy came with the shot?

  “Where’s Esperanza?”

  “We don’t know. She was gone by the time I got here.”

  “McMurphy injected me,” she said. “But Darla is the one who knocked on the door before he burst in. She and Esperanza both kept trying to give me drinks.”

  “Yeah, no one but Winchester was in his room by the time we arrived,” Goode said. “He just sat there, eating prawns and sipping champagne like it was a big joke. But we’ve got this place swarming with cops. We called in reinforcements from Coronado PD, our department, and the FBI too. Don’t worry. We’ll find them.”

  “Can you call Joanne? Let her know I’m okay?”

  “Sure. Is your phone in your purse?”

  Katrina nodded, smiling weakly back. It was a little personal letting him go through her purse, but after last night in her apartment, she was ready to go there with him. Goode stood over her while he talked to Joanne, but she could no longer keep her eyes open. The paramedic put the oxygen mask back over her mouth and nose for the ride to the hospital.

  “She’s fine. They’re going to take her to Sharp Coronado Hospital for observation,” she heard him tell Joanne.

  “You’re safe now,” the paramedic told her before she drifted off. “Everything’s going to be okay. You can relax and sleep on the trip over if you want.”

  Chapter 61

  Goode

  Friday

  Katrina looked so peaceful lying there, asleep on the gurney, as they waited for the elevator. An ambulance was waiting in the parking lot to take her to Sharp Coronado Hospital, the nearest emergency room, to monitor her and rule out any complications. When she woke up, Goode knew she would be frustrated once again that she couldn’t leap up and run to the newsroom, but that time would come soon enough.

  Goode’s phone pinged with a text from Stone: ​​Lobby. Stat. McMurphy down. More paramedics on way.​​

  “There’s a suspect down in the lobby,” he told the paramedics. “No time to wait for the elevator.”

  What’s going on now?

  Running toward the emergency fire exit, he flung himself down the stairwell for the second time in an hour. Bursting into the lobby, he had to push his way through a crowd of lookie-loos.

  At the center, Foster was administering CPR to an unconscious McMurphy as Stone stood nearby, craning his neck, presumably for the paramedics. But Goode presumed wrong. Stone was looking for Esperanza.

  “There you are,” he said. “Esperanza is in the wind. She jabbed him with a syringe, then took off somewhere. Byron and the others split up to look for her, but she could be anywhere. Out on the boardwalk or running down the beach for her life.”

  “Did we get this wrong? Was she the doer this whole time?”

  “At this point, I have no idea,” Stone said. “Go see if you can find her. You’re the only one who knows what she looks like.”

  “Is McMurphy still alive?”

  “Yeah, we were standing right there when it happened. Slausson and Fletcher are interviewing witnesses in the bar.”

  Goode paused to let it all sink in, wondering where Esperanza might be.

  She pulled Katrina into the ladies’ room by the Viennese bar. Maybe that’s where she’s hiding.

  “I have an idea,” Goode said, taking off through the lookie-loos. “Excuse me, police, coming through, thanks.”

  When he reached the bottom floor, he burst into the ladies’ room, startling several women standing at the sinks, who scrambled for the door. The six stall doors were constructed with horizontal wooden slats, like shades closed in the down position, so he couldn’t tell which ones were occupied.

  “Excuse me, ladies, police business,” he said, pulling out his gun. “If you’re in one of the stalls, please finish up and come out slowly when I knock on your door. And keep your hands where I can see them.”