Microsoft Word - Every Breath You Take By Judith McNaught by Shahid Riaz

Author:Shahid Riaz
Language: eng
Format: mobi, pdf
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-three

SEATED ON Achair in front of the windows in room 102, with his feet propped up on the windowsill and a pair of binoculars in his lap, MacNeil yawned and stretched and watched in weary boredom as rosy pink streaks appeared in the sky above the sparkling waters of the Caribbean. He and Childress were sleeping in shifts, and Mac’s shift had just begun.

Hotel employees were already moving around at the beach, setting up for breakfast and wiping down chaise longues, and several taxis were in line at the front entrance, ready to take early risers to destinations of their choice. If Wyatt decided to leave the hotel, he had to pass by MacNeil’s window to get a taxi. From this same vantage point, Mac had been able to use the binoculars to watch Wyatt and the Donovan woman last night until they finally went up to their room.

At eleven, Childress and he switched places at the window, and Childress poured himself a cup of coffee from the carafe that room service had delivered while MacNeil was on watch. “I’ve been here too long,” Childress remarked, spooning sugar into his cup. “Last night I read the hotel brochure, and I started thinking that my toenails really need attention, and I can’t go another day without aromatherapy.”

He put his coffee cup on the table beside his chair and picked up the binoculars Mac had laid aside. Lifting them to his eyes, he slowly scanned the beach, looking for a particular blonde. “There she is, lying on her favorite lounge chair. I’m falling in love.

Look at that . . . she’s got a little tattoo on her butt on the left cheek. How did I miss that yesterday? He paused to zoom in closer and adjust the focus. “It’s a ladybug-is that cute, or what?”

“I’m going to take a shower,” Mac replied, then quoting from the same brochure as he started toward the bathroom, “and drown myself in the luxury of frangipani shampoo.”

Childress looked sharply over his shoulder and called, “Leave some for me.”

MacNeil chuckled, stopped at the closet to take out a fresh shirt and pair of pants, and then laid them on the bed, because his cell phone began vibrating on the dresser.

Gray Elliott’s voice was grim and brisk. “We just found William Wyatt’s body, with a

“Every Breath You Take” By Judith McNaught 138

shotgun hole in the chest, in an old well on a neighboring farm that was owned by the Udall family. Actually,” he corrected, “we didn’t find it; the developer who bought the farm a few months ago found it when he tripped over a rusty well cover underneath an inch of snow. While he was picking himself up, he noticed something wedged under the cover that struck him as odd. He knew William had disappeared when he was supposed to be at the farm next door, so he dragged the cover aside to have a look. The local cops responded to his call, and they’ve handed the whole thing over to us.

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