Rand followed Kira into the small residence. He remained on guard, but nothing about this woman was a threat. The house was small and cluttered and ancient. Well, probably around three hundred years old, but that was ancient in Rand’s book. Conduit for retrofitted electricity and air-conditioning ran along the walls.
It was charming, but he wondered what Kira was seeing. More ghosts? Or was this old place new to her?
She met his gaze and shrugged, which he took to mean that if she had been here, the interior had changed enough to be unfamiliar.
“You know who I am?” Kira asked the woman.
“Not who you are now, just who you were.”
Kira took a step away from the woman, bumping into Rand in her retreat. Her head shook in denial. “My name is Kira.”
“I never knew your name. You look exactly like your mother, so you must be that little girl.” The woman turned to a shelf overloaded with books, papers, and photos in disorganized stacks. She flipped through a pile in the middle, then pushed it aside and rifled through another. She made a sound and turned to Kira, waving an envelope. “This is the last one. It arrived after I was notified of Conrad’s passing, which meant I needed to destroy it. I should have. I was even going to. But since I didn’t, you might as well have it.” Her gaze bounced from Kira to Rand and back again. “I’m out now. No more go-between. Do not come back again.”
She pressed the letter into Kira’s hand and herded them out the door.
They were silent on the boat ride back to Valletta. Kira’s mind was reeling. She’d tucked the unread letter into her purse and would read it once she was back in her hotel room.
She listened for her mother’s voice as they walked the streets and crossed the water, but she was silent. Kira touched the locket as she climbed the hill below the hotel and silently asked her dead parents for the truth they’d withheld in life.
She’d forgotten about the drama at the hotel until Rand reminded her when they were on the water. He’d attempted to call the front desk for an update, but the line was busy.
Now they climbed the last hill. The entrance came into view, and everything looked normal. Sweat slicked Kira’s hair and neck and dampened her cleavage as they reached the revolving door and entered the thankfully cool lobby. Behind the desk, the clerk looked harried as he spoke on the phone, apologizing for the inconvenience to a guest. When he spotted Rand, he abruptly said goodbye to the caller and hung up, then spoke to Rand. “Mr. Fallon, right?”
“Yes. What happened?”
“We aren’t sure. The sprinklers in your room went off.”
“Was there a fire?”
“No.”
“But it was only the sprinklers in my room?”
“As far as we know, yes.”
“How is that possible?”
“We’re looking into that. In the meantime, your room must be repaired. Your belongings, they are wet. We have another room for you on the second floor.”
“There’s no need. I’ll stay in Ms. Hanson’s room.”
“No.” The word was out of Kira’s mouth before she had a moment to consider.
“Does your room have two twin beds, like mine?”
She nodded.
“Then I’m staying. With everything that’s going on, you shouldn’t be alone.”
She knew he was right, but still, she’d wanted that separation. It wasn’t like separate beds changed anything. The twin mattresses were so close together, at first glance she’d thought it was a single king bed, and it wasn’t like having separate sheets could build a wall to stop her from throwing herself at Rand.
She gave a sharp nod to the clerk. Rand leaned forward and said, “On paper, we’re in separate rooms. Don’t change the hotel records.”
The Knights of St. John had settled in Malta by 1530, giving the country its Catholic foundation. Now, nearly five hundred years later, the country remained deeply religious. Some websites stated there were more churches per square meter here than in any other Christian country. The man likely thought Rand’s concern was fear of being caught in a compromising position by family or friends in violation of beliefs and not that Kira was in danger and had been hunted by a madman with a gun on Tuesday.
Not your average week.
Yet today, it was Rand’s room that had been invaded and vandalized.
Nothing made sense.
“Our computer will require payment for the unoccupied room,” the man said.
“Credit me back for half the rate for the damaged room, and we’ll be square.”
“I will have to clear that with my boss.”
“Fine. I need to grab my things from my old room.”
“We took the liberty of removing them for you.” He nodded to the door to the hotel offices as he rose to his feet. “I will bring them to you.”
A moment later, the young man circled around from the side pushing a luggage cart. It held a wet duffel bag, a few loose items of clothing and toiletries, the bookstore bag, and a plastic file folder containing a small stack of papers. She wondered if the plastic folder held his travel documents.
Did the hotel now know he was in the US military?
