Laura Griffin - Unspeakable

CHAPTER 15

She heard screaming.

The noise pierced through the fog and penetrated her brain.

Elaina opened her eyes. Then squeezed them shut again to block out a thousand tiny daggers. Too much light. Too much noise. The high-pitched screams were coming from outside. She squinted at the window as the sound continued.

Seagulls.

She sat up. She was in Troys bed. He was sprawled out beside her, completely naked and completely conked out. She glanced around. Tangled sheets. Discarded blue jeans. A scrap of yellow peeking out from under the bed.

The pain intensified as her brain began to process. How late was it? She looked around for a clock, but her gaze got hung up on Troy. He lay on his stomach, his muscular back rising and falling with his rhythmic breathing. Slowly, she pulled the sheet away from herself and eased out of the bed. The floor creaked under her foot. She froze. She glanced at him, but he was dead to the world. She took a tentative step, then another. She scooped her yellow bikini bottoms from the floor, grabbed her dress, and slipped out of the room.

The hallway was dim. No outside windows. She crept past the bathroom where Dr. Lopez had stitched her up last night and avoided even a glimpse at the mirror. She crept into the living room, where she stepped into her bathing suit bottoms and pulled the dress over her head. It fell to the floor, and she stood there, blinking down at it. A vision of the dark, stinky alleyway slammed into her.

Dont think about it. Dont think at all.

She hastily pulled the dress up and tied the torn straps. She spotted her travel pouch on the coffee table and grabbed it, then remembered she had no shoes. It didnt matter; shed walk back on the beach. She crossed the living room and slid open the door.

The sky was a painful, brilliant blue, and the mid-morning sun shimmered off the water. She clamped her hand over her eyes and stood there a moment, waiting for the nausea to pass. Seagulls screeched at one another, and she steeled herself against the noise as she padded across the deck to retrieve the other half of her swimsuit. As she walked toward the wooden stairs, her gaze landed on an empty bottle and two bar glasses sitting beside the hot tub that was built into the deck.

She stopped and stared at it. She remembered Troy, his hair slicked back from his face, his gaze, dark and sensuous, as hed lifted her out of the bubbling water and set her down on the deck. Hed pushed her knees apart and

Oh. My. God. Her legs went weak. Her skin tingled. She bit her lip and pictured him just a few rooms away, stretched out across his bed. She could go back there right now and crawl in with him. She could do it. But she shouldnt. She should leave. That was the definition of a one-night standno morning after.

Wasnt it? She thought of him, bracing himself above her, gazing down at her in the shadows.

The door slid open, and she jumped at the sound.

He stood there in only a pair of shorts. Their gazes locked.

She didnt breathe, didnt move, except for the brief instant when her attention veered to the staircase beside him. It was just a millisecond, but he caught it anyway, and his expression hardened.

Its for you, he said, and thrust out his hand.

She stared blankly down at his phone. Its what?

Weaver. For you.

He took a step forward and handed her the phone, then turned and went back inside.

She looked down at the cell phone. Her heart was thudding now. Her hands shook slightly, and she didnt know if it was the aftereffects of alcohol or Troy or the realization that one of her colleagues had called her on his phone.

She put it to her ear. Special Agent McCord.

A slight pause, no doubt as Weaver absorbed this strangely formal greeting. Why had she said that?

Thought Id catch you before you came into the office, he said, and his voice was surprisingly formal, too. Im with a Detective Ricardo Santos from the San Marcos Police Department. Hes been trying to reach you. Any chance you could meet us on the island after your meeting with Chief Breck?

Her meeting with Chief Breck? It took her a full two seconds to realize the detective must be standing right there and Weaver was covering for her.

No problem, she said, and glanced down at her clothes. Ill um, just be another half hour or so.

Good. Why dont we meet up at that coffee place across from the hotel?

Fine. Thank you.

They disconnected, and she took a wistful look at the stairs. So much for her attempt at a coolly casual exit. She should have known shed be bad at this.

She opened the door and went back inside to return Troys phone. Footsteps sounded in the hallway, and then he was crossing the living room, wearing jeans, a white T-shirt, and Teva sandals.

She held his phone out to him. That was Weaver. She said, and instantly realized he knew this already.

His eyebrows tipped up as he shoved the phone in his pocket.

Im late for something. I have to go.

He walked into the kitchen and grabbed a set of keys off the counter.

I can walk, she said. Its just down the beach.

Instead of answering, he strode past her and into the bedroom part of the house. He came back with a pair of pink flip-flops dangling from his fingers. He held them out to her.

She clenched her teeth with annoyance as she took the shoes from him and slipped them on her feet. He was already out the door.

He chose the pickup, thank goodness, and had the engine started when she climbed in.

Thank you for the ride, she said.

He slipped on a pair of sunglasses and said nothing as he backed out of the driveway and took the road back to the main highway. The silence hung there in the air, and she glanced uncomfortably around the cab. Her gaze landed on the clock.

Nine-twenty? Shed missed half the morning. Her stomach clenched with anxiety as she tried to remember what shed intended to do this morning. A call to Loomis to arrange surveillance for that suspect. Another call to Dr. Lawson. And Santos, although she could scratch that off the list now because hed obviously come here to see her. He must have something important to share. And here she was, late and exhausted and hungover beyond belief.

She glanced at Troy, silent and hostile behind his mirrored sunglasses. Shed known last night was a bad idea. Shed known it from the first shot of tequila, and shed done it, anyway.

He pulled into a McDonalds drive-through, and she listened, astonished, as he ordered two Egg McMuffins and two large coffees. He paid for the food and shoved the cups in the console, then handed her one of the sacks.