Time Thief: A Time Thief Novel by MacAlister Katie Page A

Unless, of course, it was a boyfriend’s butt. That’s totally different.”
    She grinned at him again.
    Peter was no stranger to the admiring looks of women. He was not an extraordinarily modest man, but he was also quite aware that although he was considered by most women to possess all the qualities desirous in appearance—dark hair, pleasant features, eyes that were frequently referred to as “bedroom”—there was little value in the arrangement of his bodily attributes except so much as it allowed him to more easily acquire information from smitten women.
    No one had ever looked at him the way the woman in the woods had, though. Her eyes had all but glowed with admiration. It made him feel wonderfully heroic, as if he could scale the highest mountain on her behalf.
    “Thank you,” he said, accepting the key Alison held out to him. “If you were about to offer to share the tub with me, I must decline.”
    He certainly wouldn’t be saying those words if it was the other woman offering.
    No! He refused to countenance such thoughts. She belonged to one of his cousins. That was the end of the subject.
    “Damn,” Alison said, giving a shrug and a still-friendly smile. “Was worth a try.”
    “It was. Do you take credit cards?”
    “Nope, cash only. There’s an ATM at the local store, though. It’s on the other side of the street, just beyondthe barbershop. I’ll hold the room for you, if you like. It’s not like we get a ton of visitors here. Most people go up to Crescent Lake. How come your friend told you he was here when he isn’t?”
    “I would very much like to know that,” he said, closing the door of his room. “Thank you, I will use the cash machine shortly.” He waited, hoping she’d go away so he could do a little exploring of the hotel. It wasn’t that he thought she was outright lying, but experience had taught him never to take anyone’s word for something important.
    “No problem. Want me to show you around first? That’s the breakfast room just beyond us, and above in the balcony is the TV area.”
    “That’s not necessary, no.”
    He waited, looking at her.
    She looked right back at him.
    With a mental sigh, he turned and marched out of the motel, warning Sunil that they would be in public before making his way down the street to a small shop that bore neon signs advertising two kinds of beer, as well as fresh sandwiches, and bait. He used the cash machine, pausing briefly to chat with the woman behind the counter to see if she knew anything that might be useful to him, and then emerged into the night to conduct a little reconnoiter of the motel and surrounding area.
    Shortly before nine, he reentered the motel and quietly moved to the door of his room. From the room opposite, he could hear the muted thump of a bass line. Obviously the Goth resident was back and listening to some music. From the balcony, the tinny strains of a commercial jingle drifted down to the dark main floor. Alison was most likely watching TV. He took a step toward the breakfastarea, now completely in the dark with only the odd shaft of light spilling over from the balcony. He could make out the forms of a couple of small kidney-shaped tables and chairs, and what looked like a sideboard.
    There was nothing that he could find that was the least bit suspicious about the motel. He’d discuss his findings—or, rather, lack of them—with Dalton. A glance at his watch showed that it was time to phone him and see if he was in town yet.
    “I’ll let you out once we’re in the room,” he whispered to his pocket. It buzzed its acknowledgment.
    Wary of making noise so as to attract the attention of the effervescent Alison, he moved quietly to his door, unlocked it, and stepped inside.
    Wherein he was promptly stabbed in the side.

FIVE
    “I ’d feel like a martyr, except I don’t really have anything to be martyred over,” I told Eloise as we bumped our way down the drive to the family camp. “You are at