10
I spent the next four hours trying to sleep in my hotel room. There was a message to call the front desk, but I opted to deal with it after I’d had some rest and was in a better emotional state.
What little sleep I managed was fitful with panic-inducing flashes from the night before. Goddamn that motherfucker Boyce! Robbing me of an enjoyable weekend. I hoped his broken wrist hurt like a mofo and would trouble him for the rest of his life.
At ten o’clock, I lay awake in bed, staring at the curtains and trying to get my mind to focus on things that made me happy. Playing with Diana the Wonder Dog. Making love to Conor. Slapping the cuffs on a fugitive.
A knock on the door tore me out of my bizarro version of The Sound of Music.
“Ms. Ballou, it’s hotel security.”
I sighed. What now?
