Chapter 18
Hostages
Charlie ripped the last strip of duct tape from the window in 213. Rolling the stuff into a ball, she stuffed it into the trash bag and reached for the glass cleaner and rag when she caught sight of something. Movement. For a moment she peered out into the grayish morning, trying to spot what it might have been. The odd-numbered rooms faced the swamp river, so it could have been some kind of wildlife. Or one of the husbands, she noted with a smile. Dismissing it, she proceeded to get rid of the tape’s residue.
Or one of the husbands, Thierry entered the room, stopping where the door was propped open. “I’m done on the other side. Need any help?”
“Nah, I’m done here except for getting this crap off the glass.”
“Have you seen any signs of water getting into the rooms?
