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More books took up space on his bedside table, in addition to a docking station that held his iPod. I leaned over to check out his taste in music and noticed a pad of paper with some scribbling on it.
Bingo.
I eyed it upside down for a second then unclasped my hands to pick up the pad and look at it more closely. When I did, a few business cards fell to the ground. I scooped them up, slightly panicked because I didn’t know if they had fallen from between the pages of the notebook or the tabletop. I gave them a quick glance. They all said the same thing:
On the back was an address just outside Ivy Springs proper. I shoved one in my pocket, stacking the rest in a neat pile. I tried to decipher the words on the pad, but they were in some kind of shorthand or code. Michael seemed to be a master at hiding things.
“What are you looking for?”
I let out a squeak and jumped, almost dropping the notebook. Jack stood beside me with a half smile on his lips.
“You scared me!” I was embarrassed to be busted, even by Jack, who didn’t have anyone to tell. I looked down at my hands and saw my fingers still clutching the notepad. I flung it back on the bedside table, mortified when I had to pick it back up and flip it over so it would look as it did before I touched it. “How did you get in here?”
Jack pursed his lips, hesitating before answering. “I can move between rooms.”
I considered what that meant, and my skin became gooseflesh. “Like from my bedroom to my bathroom?”
“No, no,” he answered, shaking his head before reassuring me. Still keeping his distance, he took a step closer. “As tempting as it might be, I would never do that. I respect you too much.”
I couldn’t look away from him. His pupils weren’t exactly black, just a shade lighter, and his irises were less blue today and more gray. “So you’ve been in Michael’s room before?”
“I have,” he concurred.
Uh-oh.
“Have you ever talked to him?” My forehead broke out in a sweat. Jack might have someone to tell about my snooping. What if he’d appeared to Michael, too?
“No,” Jack said, his eyes growing wide. “Only you.”
“Good.” I hadn’t realized rips could pick when to reveal themselves. I’d have to ask Michael about that later. “Seen anything interesting?” I prodded.
“Such as?”
“I don’t know,” I shrugged it off. “Who he talks to, what he does?”
“He seems to type on that a lot.” Jack pointed to the computer with one hand, leaving the other behind his back. He then pointed toward the portable phone on the desk. “And he speaks to someone on that quite frequently.”
“Have you heard him say any names?”
“I’ve heard him mention you a few times.” Jack said the words carefully, watching me, as if he was weighing my reaction.
“My name?” I asked. “In what context?”
“Just that you were nice … no”—he stopped, considering—“you were coming along nicely … and that all was going according to plan.”
I turned to stalk blindly out of the bedroom, angry with myself for being hurt by his words.
“Where are you going?” He followed close behind me.
“None of your business.” I stopped. I had no reason to be so rude to him. I turned back around to apologize, catching him off guard. He sidestepped to avoid the bedside table.
I froze.
“What’s wrong?” Jack asked.
I took a hesitant step toward him. “Why do you avoid solid objects? I’ve noticed it before, but it didn’t sink in.”
“I don’t avoid anything,” he answered, stepping fluidly away from me.
