Page 101 of A Wild Darkness

She laughs. “You wish.”

“Well, she’s out. On to the next.”

Hayden chimes, “Bob is the next closest room, then Harry, and lastly Dan.”

“We’re not drugging Silas?”

“Did you see how much he drank at that cocktail hour? That dude has probably passed out anyway by now.” I slip out of Wendy’s hotel room, making sure the door latches in a tight close behind me.

“Okay.” Stevie exhales. “How much longer do I have to stay in the room for?”

“Until everyone is knocked out.” I make my way down the hall to the north side of the chateau. “Hayden, are you guys still trailing Pete?”

“Yeah. He’s at a small art gallery downtown,” Hayden responds.

“Great. I need another half hour, then Stevie and I will be on our way to where he is,” I say as I approach Bob’s room. “Okay, at Bob’s room.” I give them a heads-up to ensure no one speaks during this time. Then I lower to the floor, grabbing the second capped syringe from inside my sock and slipping it into my pocket.

I knock a few times before he answers.

“The Dark Prince.” His raspy voice greets me as soon as he answers the door.

I smile. “Hi, Bob.”

“Come in.” He moves to the side. His friendly demeanor is like meeting an old friend.

I cautiously enter the space, my eyes darting around quickly. “Thank you.”

Bob walks over to the mid-century modern bar cart with a glass bottom and a full decanter of whiskey. “Drink?”

“No, thank you.”

Bob grabs a glass and pours one for himself. “I can’t take all this wine. I need my bourbon.”

“I understand.”

My eyes roam the room. The luggage rests behind a credenza, and the space appears undisturbed, as if unoccupied. A controlled killer, like my cousin. I imagine he leaves his crime scenes clean, free of any evidence. Bob might be more difficult to drug.

“So, what can I do for you?” He sits on the armchair of the couch, swirling the amber liquid in his hand.

I broaden my shoulders, standing only a few feet away from him. “I was wondering what your plan is for tonight? Annabel and I were thinking about heading downtown and wanted to know if we’d run into anyone from the group.”

An insignificant detail, but a killer who’s controlled like Bob would appreciate such a question.

“Good call. Do we pretend to not know each other?” he asks.

I’m going to need to drink some of his bourbon, or when he wakes up soon, he’ll remember I was here. But if I happened to “black out” too, then it would seem as though the drink was tainted. The hope is that after Pete disappears, they’ll assume it was him.

“On second thought, I’d love a glass,” I say.

Bob’s face lights up. “My man,” he says, then turns his back to me, but not before placing his glass on a painted blue end table.

I spring into action, taking this opportunity to attack him from behind.

With one quick jab into the side of his neck, I thrust the entire amount of Midazolam into his bloodstream. Bob is a larger guy, and I can’t take any chances, so he gets a heavier dose. His entire, almost three hundred pounds falls back on me.

“Fuck,” I groan as the wind is knocked out of me.

With all my strength, I drag him over to the couch, dropping his top half down first. Then bend to scoop up his legs and fling them over, too.