Page 79 of Keeping Zita

Obi-Wan stepped into the room—and all his hopes that Zita was sick or sleeping were dashed immediately. The beds were still perfectly made. Nothing looked out of place. Her medical bag was by the door in the exact same place he’d dropped it that morning. A suitcase was open on the bed, her small toiletries bag sitting next to it. He could picture in his head her putting it there as she searched for something to wear before showering.

Just to be positive she wasn’t in the room, even though he knew in his gut she wasn’t, Obi-Wan looked in the bathroom. The towels were hanging neatly on the racks and nothing was disturbed.

Whatever had happened, it occurred right after he’d left that morning. Which pissed Obi-Wan off all the more. She certainly hadn’t left to go back to California; all her things being in the room disproved that option. She hadn’t showered, changed clothes, lain down for a nap before getting ready for her meeting. It was as if she’d vanished into thin air minutes after he’d dropped her off.

Except she hadn’t.

Turning to the housekeeper, he asked, “Are there surveillance cameras on the property?”

She looked taken aback. “Yes. In the lobby.”

“Nowhere else?” Obi-Wan barked, not able to keep his tone even.

“Not that I know of.”

Fuck.

The three of them stood still for a heartbeat, the housekeeper watching Buck and Obi-Wan warily, Buck watching Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan’s gaze searching the room for answers. Answers that weren’t there.

Except…

“Stop! Don’t move! Don’t touch anything!” he exclaimed.

Buck and the housekeeper froze.

“What? What do you see?” Buck asked.

“Blood,” Obi-Wan said grimly, as he walked closer to the door and leaned over to inspect what had caught his attention. A dark spot on the carpet. It was small, no bigger than the unit patch on his chest. A few inches wide and long.

He wouldn’t even have noticed it if the carpet hadn’t been just a shade lighter than the mark on the floor. It could be anything. A drink someone spilled, or something more disgusting, but Obi-Wan got on his knees anyway. He leaned in and inhaled, then sat back on his heels and looked up at his friend.

“It’s definitely blood.”

“We don’t know that,” Buck said quietly.

“It is. You and I both know what fucking blood smells like. We’ve seen enough of it in the past. It’s Zita’s blood. Someone hurt her.” The last three words were almost whispered, as if saying them out loud could make them any more true than they already were.

The housekeeper looked completely freaked out now, probably in part by Obi-Wan’s statement about seeing a lot of blood in the past. But he didn’t care. All his attention was on Buck.

“What do we do?” he asked, in that same low voice he’d used earlier. He felt adrift. Panicked. And Obi-Wan never panicked. Prided himself on his ability to stay calm in the most chaotic environments.

“Blood?” the housekeeper asked. “We have something that can get that up without too much trouble.”

“No!” Buck and Obi-Wan exclaimed at the same time.

Obi-Wan got to his feet. “Do not let anyone into this room. It doesn’t get cleaned, no one touches a damn thing. We’re calling the cops. Everything inside is evidence.”

“Evidence of what?” the housekeeper asked with wide eyes.

“Kidnapping. Assault. Someone took my woman, and I’m going to get her back,” Obi-Wan growled.

His mind whirled with the things he needed to do, no longer suffering with indecision. It was as if his brain kicked into overdrive. He needed to contact the police, Casper, talk to the men and women in the meeting where Zita was supposed to be, check with the motel about surveillance cameras.

And call Tex.

Fuck, he should’ve done that days ago, as soon as Silas had threatened Zita. But he hadn’t. He assumed the man wasn’t really a threat.

A decision he’d regret to the end of his days. Because in his gut, Obi-Wan knew the bodyguard was responsible for whatever had happened to Zita. There simply wasn’t anyone else. People liked Zita. She was friendly and open and everyone she helped had been happy with her skills.