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“Good to know, Miss Scientist,” he said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at her. “Now call the police and don’t open this door until I come back.”
“Where are you going?”
“To find out who left that note,” he said, already at the door and opening it. “And to find out how they knew exactly what room you were in.”
* * *
THE MANAGER WAS a woman named Lola Teague and she was as concerned as she was determined to help. She met Jonathan at the elevator, sporting a dark navy pantsuit, heels and a name tag that caught the fluorescent lights. Jonathan placed Lola in her fifties, with impeccably styled dark hair, matching pristine posture and laugh lines at the corners of her eyes.
When she saw the note on the door, she definitely wasn’t laughing.
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