Read Online Forgotten Witness by Rebecca Forster - Free Book Online
Authors: Rebecca Forster
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counter, a glass with two toothbrushes, and a small bar of soap near the sink that had been opened and used. Two towels hung neatly on a bar. The mirror was glued to the wall and plastic clamshell brackets held it in place. It looked like the bathrooms in the base housing where Josie grew up. The mirror itself was cracked on one corner and the silver backing was showing through and turning black in another. The shower curtain was drawn over the tub. She pulled it back with one finger. There was a bar of hotel soap and bottle of cheap shampoo. A woman’s shampoo.
Josie went to the main room. It was standard: two beds, a low bureau, a chair, tall and narrow french doors overlooking the street. Those doors were framed by chiffon sheers yellowed with age, sagging where the drapery pins had come loose. They rippled like the hem of a ghostly gown.
Convinced she was alone, positive she wasn’t going to trip over a corpse, Josie walked to the window and looked out. What she assumed to be a balcony was only an illusion. A railing had been bolted to the building outside the window as a safety guard for sleepwalkers and drunks. Summers in D.C. could be brutal and there was no air-conditioning when this place was built. Tonight the doors were closed. She pulled the drapes aside and put her hand up to the glass. Cold air was seeping through cracked caulking and yet the room was relatively warm. She touched the radiator. It was cool but not cold. Someone had been there to turn it on and off.
The spreads on the full-size beds were thrown over the pillows but the sheets were un-tucked. She walked between them, fumbled with the switch on the lamp that sat on the table between them and finally managed to turn it on. The dim bulb under the fringed, grey shade shed light that made everything look like it was floating under dingy water but it was better than nothing. She opened the narrow drawer in the bedside table and found a bible. Someone had written a profanity on the cover and misspelled it. Josie closed the drawer. There was no iPod, tablet, book, or notepad. There was nothing in the room that a normal traveler would have. There was no loose change, no pen, and no keys. There had been no medicine bottles in the bathroom. There was nothing to indicate that someone had eaten here. The bureau was clean, too. She pulled back the sheets and stuck her hand under the pillows of the first bed and then the other. No nightclothes, books, or treasures. She lifted one mattress and then the other and wanted to wash her hands when she was done.
Josie opened the top drawer of the bureau.
Nothing.
She opened all six drawers.
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
She swept the room again with a sharper eye and was rewarded for the effort. A small, wheeled bag was tucked into the corner of the room, half hidden because it was black and the sheers had blown over it. A case could be made that she had already broken a passel full of laws just by walking into this room and searching it. Josie, of course, could argue an exception. The door was open and she was concerned about the occupant. Searching a closed, partially hidden suitcase was another matter and it should have given her pause.
It didn’t.
***
The girl poked at the numbers and letters of the keyboard earnestly and yet she still made mistakes. Little sounds of frustration bubbled up between her lips but she was careful not to be too loud. The last thing she wanted to do was bring attention to herself. Not that anyone in this Internet café had given her a second look.
She reentered the numbers and this time she got it right. Behind the coffee bar a printer whirred. She logged off and went to the counter where a young man with a short beard and long hair took her money. He paused when she put out her hand for her change.
“Man, you’ve got a short lifeline.” He touched her palm with his pointer finger.
She grabbed back her hand. “Can I have my copies?”
“Sure.” He looked
Josie went to the main room. It was standard: two beds, a low bureau, a chair, tall and narrow french doors overlooking the street. Those doors were framed by chiffon sheers yellowed with age, sagging where the drapery pins had come loose. They rippled like the hem of a ghostly gown.
Convinced she was alone, positive she wasn’t going to trip over a corpse, Josie walked to the window and looked out. What she assumed to be a balcony was only an illusion. A railing had been bolted to the building outside the window as a safety guard for sleepwalkers and drunks. Summers in D.C. could be brutal and there was no air-conditioning when this place was built. Tonight the doors were closed. She pulled the drapes aside and put her hand up to the glass. Cold air was seeping through cracked caulking and yet the room was relatively warm. She touched the radiator. It was cool but not cold. Someone had been there to turn it on and off.
The spreads on the full-size beds were thrown over the pillows but the sheets were un-tucked. She walked between them, fumbled with the switch on the lamp that sat on the table between them and finally managed to turn it on. The dim bulb under the fringed, grey shade shed light that made everything look like it was floating under dingy water but it was better than nothing. She opened the narrow drawer in the bedside table and found a bible. Someone had written a profanity on the cover and misspelled it. Josie closed the drawer. There was no iPod, tablet, book, or notepad. There was nothing in the room that a normal traveler would have. There was no loose change, no pen, and no keys. There had been no medicine bottles in the bathroom. There was nothing to indicate that someone had eaten here. The bureau was clean, too. She pulled back the sheets and stuck her hand under the pillows of the first bed and then the other. No nightclothes, books, or treasures. She lifted one mattress and then the other and wanted to wash her hands when she was done.
Josie opened the top drawer of the bureau.
Nothing.
She opened all six drawers.
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
She swept the room again with a sharper eye and was rewarded for the effort. A small, wheeled bag was tucked into the corner of the room, half hidden because it was black and the sheers had blown over it. A case could be made that she had already broken a passel full of laws just by walking into this room and searching it. Josie, of course, could argue an exception. The door was open and she was concerned about the occupant. Searching a closed, partially hidden suitcase was another matter and it should have given her pause.
It didn’t.
***
The girl poked at the numbers and letters of the keyboard earnestly and yet she still made mistakes. Little sounds of frustration bubbled up between her lips but she was careful not to be too loud. The last thing she wanted to do was bring attention to herself. Not that anyone in this Internet café had given her a second look.
She reentered the numbers and this time she got it right. Behind the coffee bar a printer whirred. She logged off and went to the counter where a young man with a short beard and long hair took her money. He paused when she put out her hand for her change.
“Man, you’ve got a short lifeline.” He touched her palm with his pointer finger.
She grabbed back her hand. “Can I have my copies?”
“Sure.” He looked
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