CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
Everything felt fuzzy when she woke up. She’d apparently not moved at all because the washcloth was still covering eyes. Only now, it was warm and drying. She waited for the shrill blare of her cell phone but did not hear it.
Weird, she thought. Something woke me up. What was it?
There was a smell, too. A scent that was sour in a way. Old. Maybe dusty and—
She reached up to move the washcloth from her face and that’s when she heard the slight movement in the room. It was very soft, barely there at all. But it was close…damned close.
Her first thought was Ellington. Maybe he had come back to check on her.
No, he would have called. And he doesn’t have a key. So how did he get in?
This was the thought that shook off the last vestiges of sleep. She opened her eyes a
