20
EMMY
“Where’s Alex?”
Ana groaned into the phone. “How should I know? Probably asleep, same as the rest of us at whatever time this is.”
“A quarter to six, and his phone’s going to voicemail.”
“The battery probably quit.”
For crying out loud. Hadn’t he heard of a charger?
“Get your arse over here. Ottie Marquette has turned into a headache, more of a migraine, actually, and we need to get to the hospital. I’ll wake Hallie for a briefing.”
But fifteen minutes later, after a hasty shower and a double espresso from the machine in my room, I was as worried about Alex as I was about Ottie.
“His room hasn’t been slept in,” I told Ana. “I checked.”
“You’re sure? He didn’t just make the bed himself?”
Alex was a neat freak. Mrs. Fairfax, the housekeeper at the estate I owned with my hu
