Tyler Snell - Private Bodyguard

Dan didn’t look up from his paper when she stepped inside.

“Room 212,” he responded, intent on his crossword. “And you figured that out all on your own.”

“Of course I did. You know nothing—everyone knows that, Dan.”

He laughed but didn’t say anything more. Darling went behind the desk and grabbed the key with the chain marked 212. Some people might have felt guilty for what she was doing, but Darling could justify it easily enough. Nigel Marks had spent a few hours in the Mulligan Motel’s room 212 last night. And what’s more, he hadn’t been alone. The millionaire had left while the sky was still dark, but his mistress hadn’t checked out yet. It was time Darling paid a visit.

She walked up the stairs and down the length of the second floor until she came to a stop at the last door. A TV could be heard on the other side, but no voices. Darling, using a method her former boss had applied in the field before, adopted a high-pitched voice and knocked.

“Room service,” she sang. There was a Do Not Disturb sign hanging from the doorknob. If she kept nagging, the woman would answer, annoyed yet visible. Then Darling would do what she did best and question or trick her into confessing. Who needed pictures when the mistress would admit publically to the affair? Sure, it was a little brash of her and maybe not what she would have done under normal circumstances, but she felt oddly off-kilter after seeing Oliver. Even though they’d barely had a conversation.

She knocked a few more times and waited.

And waited.

“Room service. I’m coming in,” she sang again in a lower voice. She slid the key into the lock and turned, an excuse for her intrusion ready on her tongue.

But no one yelped in surprise or yelled in anger. Aside from the TV, the room was still and spotless. Maybe Dan had gotten it wrong, Darling thought. There was no luggage or bags of any kind, the trashcans were empty and all the lights were off. She walked past the two double beds and peeked into the bathroom, hoping for some kind of clue that would prove Nigel Marks’s mistress had been there.

However, the proof she found was more than she had bargained for.

Lying in the bathtub was a woman wrapped up in the shower curtain. Blood was everywhere.

Chapter Two

“And you’re sure she won’t be a problem?” Nikki asked after Oliver more or less summed up his visit to the police station. He had admitted to knowing Darling, just not how he knew her.

“I’m sure. She was just curious, that’s all,” he said for the third time. Nikki might not have been fond of taking on Nigel Marks as a client, but now that he was under contract, she was going to make sure nothing bad happened. “Listen, I don’t blame her. This place is impressive. I’d have done the same thing. If it makes you feel better, I’m catching up with her when Thomas and Grant relieve me tonight. I’ll bring it up again and if she lies to me, I’ll catch it.”

“Well, just try not to tick off the long-winded gate guard, George, while you’re there. I’d really like to avoid talking to him again.”

Oliver agreed and they ended the call. He looked through the window to the gatehouse down below. George Hanely had been like a kid on Christmas as he recounted the story of how he had saved the Markses’ home from the more-than-suspicious private investigator. Oliver had been at Nigel Marks’s home for less than ten minutes, and in that time he had watched George reenact what had happened.

He had led Oliver from his post in the small one-room, half-bathroom house that sat at the front of the drive around to the garage. It, like the house, was large. It could easily fit several cars. Darling had been spotted next to the side door. Her story of just being close to the gate that surrounded the property was hard to believe. The iron gate was a good forty to fifty yards away. If she had been trying to get back over the fence, then why come so close to the garage?

Oliver could guess the answer. She was trying to get into the garage. But why?

Ever since he had seen Darling, he had been assuming that she was still the same girl he’d known before. The fact that she was in jail to start off with had proven the opposite. And a private investigator?

He smiled to himself. That he could believe. Darling had loved the challenge of a good mystery.

He remembered the first time he’d met her. She had been butt up in a Dumpster behind an office complex, rooting around in discarded papers and files. At the time he’d assumed it was a part of some weird bet. She hadn’t looked homeless with her designer clothes and perfectly manicured nails. Then, when she found exactly what she didn’t want to find, she had opened up in a burst of emotion to the nineteen-year-old him. Her world wasn’t over, but it had changed. Through the next few months the once-spoiled, once-naive teenager transformed into a thoughtful, compassionate young woman. The people around her hadn’t appreciated the changed Darling, and slowly she had become isolated. Oliver, however, had formed a bond with her, staying by her side until...

Self-loathing pulsed through him at the memory of the last night he’d seen her. Time can heal all wounds, but seeing the girl whose heart you shattered only breaks out the salt and pours it into the gashes, he thought with a frown.

Seeing her after all those years had been a shock to his system. One he wasn’t sure was entirely good or entirely bad. As he tried to clear his mind, he marveled at the fact that he still felt so strongly about what had happened almost a decade ago.

Oliver left the guest bedroom Nigel had assigned to him and started to go through each room of the house. He checked windows, catalogued all exits and got his bearings of the Markses’ second home. Its large size didn’t surprise him in the least.

After finishing his sweep, he made his way back over to the gatehouse. George, a slight man in his thirties with dark hair and a pasty complexion, could barely keep his excitement at bay at having someone to talk to. Oliver didn’t blame the man one bit. Even though Nigel Marks hadn’t been at his house in years, it was still George’s job to watch the gate daily. If it had been Oliver’s job, he would have hated it. However, George seemed to take pride in his tasks, and Oliver spied a movie player and several movies under the front desk, which must have made sitting in one room day in and day out a little more bearable.

“So, have you ever met Mr. Marks in person?” George asked when Oliver was satisfied with each part of the property. Aside from the gatehouse, garage and house, there was nothing but open land surrounding the acres the Markses owned.

“No,” Oliver admitted. “My boss handles the client interactions before the contract start date,” he explained. “Do you see him often? I was under the impression he didn’t come visit much.”

George shrugged. “He calls to check in from time to time and ask about things,” he said. Oliver noticed the gate guard puffed his chest out a bit. “I keep him informed on what’s going on in Mulligan.” There was no mistaking that George definitely took pride in working for Nigel. Oliver could respect that, even if he wondered what kind of social life the guard was left with after the hours he worked. Having a good boss was an absolute must for Oliver, especially after the nightmare of what had happened with his last. “That’s how I knew that woman was up to no good.”

They had just stepped outside the gatehouse and were facing the private drive. It wasn’t as cold as the Montana case had been, but there was a chill in the air that moved with the breeze. Oliver tilted his head as another gust pushed against his clean-shaven face, and he thought about his next words carefully before speaking.