Rogue Angel - Footprints Part 41

"Me? What could I have possibly said? You were with me the entire time."

Jenny nodded. "I know. Just seems strange. Like one moment she was all fine and jovial and the next she was a little...wary."

"Yeah, I got that, too."

"Did you notice when she changed?"

Annja frowned. "Right about when we started talking about David."

"d.a.m.n," Jenny said. "I was hoping I was wrong about that. But, yeah, she did get a bit odd after that, huh?"

"Yep."

Jenny stopped. "What do you think it means?"

Annja shook her head. "I don't know. But I do know that we should probably be on our most alert around him. With crazy nuts like Simpson and Baker running around, combined with the Sasquatch, and then this whole thing with the sheriff, we've got to watch out for each other."

"Okay."

They crested the third floor and Jenny waved. "Sleep well."

"You, too." Annja watched her go and then turned toward her own room. She opened the door and stepped inside, locking the door behind her.

The lavender scent from the bath still lingered. Annja took a deep breath and exhaled, feeling a wave of relaxation wash over her. The bed looked incredibly comfortable and she couldn't believe she hadn't even tested it.

I would have fallen fast asleep if I had, she thought with a grin.

She took off her robe and jumped into bed, snuggling under the thick blankets. It wasn't cold outside, but somehow the feeling of thick blankets on top of her made her feel like a child again, back when the world didn't seem quite so big and scary.

How that impression has changed, she thought. Nowadays, everyone seemed to have an agenda and oftentimes that agenda clashed with Annja's, resulting in a lot of people who weren't particularly crazy about her continued insistence on breathing.

She burped quietly. Breakfast or lunch or whatever it was had been fantastic. Sheila hadn't lied about Tom being a great cook. He'd obviously come up around other chefs if he could make a typical breakfast like that taste as good as it had.

Or else Annja had simply been famished beyond belief.

She smiled. Anything was possible.

She shifted the pillow around until her shoulder felt comfortable on the mattress. It was a little firmer than she usually liked, but then again, she didn't think her body would complain given how she'd been battered for the previous day or so.

Her thoughts drifted. Sheila's reaction to big foot seemed weird to Annja, but she hadn't had the encounter. Who knew how people would respond to things until it actually happened? Sheila might just be one of those people who seem to cruise through life without getting excited about very much at all.

Or she could be lying about seeing big foot in order to feed into Jenny's fantasy.

But for what purpose?

And if Sheila didn't get upset about stuff, then why had she been so visibly disturbed, even for a moment, when David had entered into the conversation? What did she know about him that set her on edge?

It didn't make any sense.

Annja shifted again. Her stomach gurgled a bit and she wondered if she'd maybe had too much to eat. Annja didn't normally stuff herself, preferring to equate food with gasoline. You don't overfill the tank, but keep enough in there to keep the car running in top condition.

Still...

It wasn't the food. Annja found herself sinking in toward her subconscious. Wave after wave of drowsiness washed over her and she briefly worried that the food might have been drugged.

But no. Annja had been drugged before and this felt nothing like it. This was her body telling her that it needed to relax.

No sense fighting it, she supposed. She took a deep breath and exhaled, willing herself to let go of her hold on staying awake, to give in to the temptation to drift off to sleep.

And then she felt herself jerked back up toward her waking self.

Little sounds dripped and dribbled down to her subconscious, slipping into places where her logical mind could process them.

The result disturbed her.

Someone was coming into her room.

Annja felt herself moving toward being fully awake. Part of her resisted. She was so tired. And yet the adrenaline that had started coursing through her system fought off that sluggishness and forced her awareness back to peak.

Whoever was coming in would have needed a key. Jenny didn't have a key. And that pretty much meant that this person would have to be considered a threat,

She could hear it now.

Coming closer.

Annja steeled herself. In a second, she'd toss the covers and confront the person. Get them to talk.

But then she heard a familiar voice.

"Annja?"

Annja opened her eyes.

Sheila stared back at her.

"We need to talk."

Chapter 22.

Annja sat up in bed with the covers wrapped around her. "Why couldn't you just tell me downstairs when we were eating?"

Sheila glanced around. "I never know who's listening. And it's better up here, anyway. No one can see me talking to you."

Annja frowned. Beams of sunlight cut through the drapes in front of the window, giving the room a much brighter look than Sheila's demeanor. "You're talking like someone doesn't want us to know what's going on here."

"Someone doesn't," Sheila said. "You're absolutely right."