dropped his head down and settled his mouth against her cheekbone, then slid it up to her ear. A caress that was close enough to a kiss that it made her shiver. She couldn’t help but inch a tiny bit closer.
“You all right?” Brooks said, barely loud enough for her to hear. “Nod if you are.”
Maryse nodded. Then shook her head. Then nodded again.
He draped an arm over her shoulders and nuzzled her neck. “Which is it?”
“I’m fine,” she whispered. “But this hotel isn’t.”
“You don’t want to stay here?”
“I don’t think it’s—” She cut herself off as the concierge returned to the desk.
She wished she could lean back and finish in sign language. Things were so much easier when she could speak without being heard.
The man smiled at her, then at Brooks. “Looks like your wife made it, after all! Sorry about the interruption.”
“No worries at all,” Brooks assured him.
“I’m used to a much slower gig,” the concierge added. “The day manager went home, and I have to admit...filling in is harder than I thought it would be.”
“The day manager?” Maryse repeated, relieved that she wouldn’t run into him.
But the concierge’s next words gave her pause. “Yep. She’s a force. Makes me glad I work the night shift.”
She?
Maryse lifted her gaze to Brooks’s face, wondering if he noticed the discrepancy between what she’d told him earlier about a man at the desk and the fact that it was supposed to be a woman.
“It’s funny, actually,” the guy behind the desk added almost absently. “She claimed to have to go home to be with her kid. But in the year she’s worked here, she’s never mentioned that she’s a mom before.”
“Funny,” Brooks echoed, and it was obvious—at least to Maryse—that he knew something was up.
“Guess there’s always something new to learn about people.” The concierge smiled again, then turned his attention to the computer screen. “All right. The ground-level suite you were asking about—eight—is actually undergoing an upgrade. Whole thing got wrecked in a flood and renovations are scheduled to go well into next month. We do have a room available on the second floor, though. Same layout, functional balcony... If you and your wife would like to book there instead, I can give you a last-minute deal.”
Maryse jumped in quickly. “Yes, please.”
Brooks’s hand tightened on her shoulder, and she nodded—more for his benefit than for that man booking the room.
“Even if it’s not the room we were hoping for, it’ll be nice to stay in the city for the evening.” She forced a light laugh. “Sometimes life in a small country town makes you feel like someone’s always watching.”
“True enough,” Brooks murmured, squeezing her shoulder again, then letting her go to pull out his wallet.
Maryse started to argue—to reach for the small handbag she had tucked into her jacket—then stopped as she realized it would look a little odd for a wife to argue with her husband about who would be paying for a room. It was safer, as well. If someone else at the hotel was looking for her, it would be better to be booked in under Brooks’s name. She vowed to herself that she would pay him back, but kept silent as he made an excuse for their lack of luggage, accepted the key cards—identical to the one she’d discovered in Cami’s room—then led her to the elevators. Brooks stayed quiet, too. Through the ride up, through the short walk to their room, and until the door was firmly locked behind them.
Then he faced her and—in a tone just shy of bossy—said, “Tell me.”
Brooks waited as Maryse dragged out her phone, then clicked it on and held it up for him to see.
“That’s the man who helped me at the desk earlier today,” she said. “Not the one filling in right now.”
“And not a woman, if the beard is any indication,” Brooks replied.
She shook her head, then pulled the phone away, tapped on the screen, then showed him again. “It was taken at my house. Two days ago.”
Brooks took it from her hand, studying the shot. It gave him a chill to see just how close the man had come to Maryse and her daughter without being detected. How long had he watched them?
“And you’d never seen him before?” he asked.
“No. Never.” Her answer was firm.
“Okay. Give me a second to run through what we know.” He tapped his thigh thoughtfully. “The man in that picture... Was he definitely a hotel employee?”
“Yes. Well. He was wearing a uniform, and he was on the phone behind his desk.”
“Did anyone else see him?”
She closed her eyes as if trying to recall, then opened them and nodded at him. “There were a few other hotel employees around. A baggage guy and a woman talking to some guests.”
“And presumably, they would have noticed if some stranger dressed in a fake uniform was behind the front counter.”
“I think so.”
“So. He is an employee. Just not a concierge. And the woman who was supposed to be at the counter went home to a kid that the night guy didn’t know she had.”
He paused, and Maryse filled in the rest of his thoughts. “It could be her kid. But what if it’s not?”
“What are the chances that she’s been working with him for a whole year, but never mentioned that she had a child?” He shook his head. “No mom I’ve ever met could go that long without bringing up some funny story, or without bringing up some bit of trouble her kid is causing.”
He met her eyes, and he saw a glimmer of guarded hope there as she replied. “Sometimes, I’m sure I manage to work Cami into every conversation I have.”
He had an overwhelming need to make that glimmer expand. “We need to find out for sure.”
“How?”
He tapped his thigh again. “Her personnel file, maybe. Even if it doesn’t list her dependents, it will have her contact info. Easy enough to fabricate a reason to give her a call.”
“But we need the file first. I doubt they’re going to hand it over.”
Brooks frowned. She was right. He was too accustomed to simply flashing his badge to get his way. He paced the room for a moment.
“Need to think like a criminal,” he muttered.
“You mean steal it?” Maryse asked.
“Yes. Exactly. There has to be an employee contact list in that office behind the concierge desk.”
He stilled his movements, sure—even though he hardly knew her at all—that she wasn’t going to like what he was about to suggest. He met her worried gaze, then opened his mouth. And he was right. She shook her head before he even got the idea partway out.
“No,” she said quickly. “Trying to sneak into the office is too risky.”
“It’s riskier not to try,” Brooks replied. “If this woman has your daughter, we have to find out.”
“If the current concierge catches you, he might kick us out or call the police. If the guy who was pretending to be the concierge does, it’ll be even worse.” A frown creased her forehead, and her blue eyes clouded for a moment before she closed them