"Jon?" His name came out as more of a scratchy croak, but the sound was enough to rouse him. His head snapped up as if he'd barely drifted off.
"Zoe?" He stood and walked over to sit on the bed. "You okay?"
She wasn't sure. She felt as if she had the world's biggest hangover.
But she hadn't drunk more than a couple of glasses of wine last night, had she?
She couldn't say for sure. She could remember sitting at the table with Colin and Tiffany, and planning the search for Sam, but nothing that came afterward. "I don't feel so good," she admitted. "What--what happened?
How'd I get here?"
Jonathan smoothed the hair off her forehead. It was a tender touch, the touch one might receive from a lover, and it made her crave more contact with him--the escape he promised just by looking at her, just by being here and being concerned. "Your car's out front. Didn't you drive?" he asked.
"If you didn't bring me, I guess I must have, but...if you weren't with me when I got here, how'd you get in?"
"David."
"Skye's husband?"
"After I tracked you down, you wouldn't answer the door, so I called him and he came over and had the manager open it. We were worried, needed to be sure you were safe."
"So...how did I get here?"
"You can't remember?" he prompted.
There seemed to be a big gap that stretched from dinner until now.
"Maybe it's this headache." Obviously, the constant turmoil and stress were getting to her, playing tricks on her mind. She'd eaten and slept so little over the past week, and she'd mostly picked at the tri tip, mashed potatoes and green beans Colin and Tiffany had served. The alcohol must've hit her harder than she'd realized. "What time is it?"
The digital alarm clock on the nightstand was turned away. He leaned over to check it. "Nearly 4:00 a.m."
"If you didn't bring me here, how'd you know where to find me?" she asked. "Did I call you?"
"No. That's what had me worried. After your text, I couldn't get hold of you--"
"My text?"
He gave her a strange look. "Don't tell me you don't remember that, either."
She must've had some sort of nervous breakdown. She couldn't remember any of it, and that terrified her. Was she losing her mind? Was Samantha's disappearance sending her over the edge?
Frantically searching for some hint of familiarity, she glanced around the room but drew an absolute blank. She was certain she'd never seen this place before. Then she spotted the sleeping pills on the nightstand. She couldn't say where they'd come from, but they had to be the reason she felt so groggy.
Why had she taken a sleeping aid? What if they'd heard some word on Sam? What if Sam had needed her?
Jonathan still sat next to her, but he was preoccupied with his phone.
A moment later, he held it up so she could see the screen.
Not feeling well. Getting a motel. Call u tomorrow.
"That came from me?" she asked.
"At 8:06."
Her heart pounded as she read it again. She could no sooner remember sending that text than driving to this unfamiliar motel. But she didn't want to acknowledge it. Jonathan would think she was going crazy. She was wondering herself. "Oh...yeah. I guess...I guess the sleeping pills made me a little loopy."
"How many did you take?" he asked.
She told him she'd taken two, but she really had no idea.
He shifted on the bed. "Why'd you drive so far from Rocklin, Zoe?
Especially with the search scheduled for early this morning?"
That was a good question. She wished she knew the answer. "I hate to admit it, but...I'm afraid I might've been tipsy when I left Colin and Tiffany's house. I only drank a couple glasses of wine, but..." She rubbed her face. "I can't believe I drove. That was so irresponsible and dangerous."
"The motel clerk said you were sober when you arrived."
"Maybe it hit me afterward." But then, why couldn't she remember coming here? None of it made sense.
"Maybe," he agreed, but he was watching her closely.
"Is everything okay?" she asked.
"It's fine. Go ahead and get some sleep. Hopefully, you'll feel better in the morning."
He started to stand up, but she caught his hand. "Will you stay?"
He didn't question her. He just lay down beside her, and the next thing she knew, her head was on his shoulder, and her hand was on his chest where she could feel the steady rhythm of his heart.
The warmth of his body, even the smell of his clothes and skin, brought her a measure of comfort. Soon the pain and confusion disappeared as she dropped into a dreamless sleep....
Chapter 25
Something didn't add up. Jonathan couldn't tell what it was, but Zoe had seemed so disoriented, more disoriented than a couple glasses of wine at dinner would warrant. Maybe she'd had a drink or two besides what she'd counted--or was willing to admit to. Or her behavior was due to the combined effects of the alcohol and the sleeping pills. That was plausible, he supposed. But if she'd had too much to drink, why did Colin and Tiffany allow her to drive? According to Colin, she'd been fine when she left his house, and the desk clerk had confirmed it.
As soon as Zoe seemed to be sleeping deeply enough that his movements wouldn't disturb her, Jonathan carefully extricated himself and got up. She'd looked at the text as if she'd never sent it, at the sleeping pills as if she'd never bought them. And even she didn't seem to know why she'd driven thirty minutes to rent a room downtown. There were half a dozen motels in Rocklin, which was where she had to be early in the morning, and rates weren't any cheaper down here....
But it was the state of her clothes that raised the biggest question.
Until he'd talked to her, he'd ignored it as one of those things she'd explain when she woke up. Now that she couldn't seem to explain anything, he couldn't stop thinking about how curious it was. He and David had found her with half the buttons on her blouse undone and her jeans unfastened. As far as he could tell, she hadn't even brought in her makeup bag.
Moving as quietly as possible, he took the sleeping pills into the bathroom, where there was more light. They looked brand new, just as she'd said. Which meant he should be able to tell how many she took.
He removed the lid and dumped them into his palm. The label said the bottle contained forty-eight tablets. If she'd taken two, there should be forty-six. But a quick count turned up only forty.
"Did she take eight?" he muttered and counted them again.
There were forty, all right. That could explain why she was so disoriented, but he had a hard time believing she'd overdo it with Samantha still out there somewhere.