CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Georgie roused, her cheek was squashed into something firm, yet lumpy. Her hands were bunched under her chest. When she moved, her fingers shot with pins and needles and her back twinged. Everything stiff and sore from the unnatural position of being collapsed forward over her notepad and pens on the tabletop. Good thing she’d pushed aside her computer – unless she’d knocked it in her nosedive?
Groaning, she uncurled and eased out the kinks. The room was freezing. She must’ve been out of it for over an hour because the fire had died to a scattering of embers.
The mantel clock told her it was 7.03am. Apart from its ticks, the silence around her warned she was still alone. She checked anyway. No Franklin. No Kat. No messages from either.
‘What the hell am I doing here i
