CHAPTER THIRTY
A phone rang.
“Mm.” Maya groaned as she rolled over to answer it.
“Miss Bennett?” said a cheerful young woman—too cheerful for this early in the morning. “This is your seven a.m. wake-up call.”
“Thanks,” she muttered, and hung up. Beside her on the king-size bed, Sara stirred.
“Come on, Squeak,” Maya prodded. “We got to get up.”
“Don’t call me that,” Sara murmured as she stuck her head under a pillow.
Maya rose and went into the bathroom. She squinted; the fluorescent lights were harsh and uninviting. She used the toilet, washed her hands and face, and brushed her teeth. Then she returned to the bedroom and poked Sara again with two fingers. “Hey. Up. We have to go soon.”
“But we just got here,” Sara groaned.
The night prior, at nearly ten o’clock, they had been at
