So why was the door unlatched?

Hadn’t she come back inside and turned the dead bolt behind her? Yes…that was right. After securing the lock, she’d taken one last swallow of her drink, then left the glass on the bedside table before stripping and heading unsteadily for the shower. That was right, wasn’t it?

Or was she mixing things up?

Why couldn’t she remember?

Why was everything so fuzzy?

Maybe she’d imagined locking the door.

Maybe she had heard someone prowling through these rooms while she’d stood under the shower’s spray.

Her throat turned to dust.

Again she sensed a presence.

Something eerily out of place.

She started for the telephone.

“Mama.”

A scared little voice.

Kat’s heart nearly stopped. “London? Baby?” The sound was coming from the verandah, through the crack in the door. This was insane. She should reach for the phone. Phone hotel security. Call the police.

Like you did before?

And have them all look at you like you’re crazy?

Have them exchange glances as they noticed the vials on the nightstand?

Have them suggest you “talk” to someone?

Is that what you want to go through again?

No.

Heart thudding, she inched her way to the exterior doors where the curtains billowed slightly and the chill of December seeped inside. Through the sheers she saw a dark shadow. Small. Shivering.

London?

Precious, precious child!

Kat yanked open the door.