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“You’re right! There aren’t that many hotels in town. It’s possible they’re staying in the same place.”
    So we weren’t going to figure out how Drake Lonestar made the courthouse disappear, and we weren’t going to figure out how the box vanished from the evidence locker, but we were back on track with my initial burning question: Was Smallwood in any way connected to Lonestar?

CHAPTER SEVEN

Connecting the Dots
    IT WAS STILL DARK, BUT the sun was slowly rising when Bess, George, and I piled into my car.
    â€œI want the last doughnut,” Bess complained from the backseat.
    â€œNo way,” George countered. “You already had two.”
    It had been my idea to quickly stop for coffee and doughnuts at the all-night diner. Thing was, I only wanted one glazed, and the employee insisted that a half dozen was cheaper. I shouldn’t have given in to the pressure. Or else, I should have just eaten the last one and prevented this whole heated discussion.
    â€œGoing to check hotel registers was my idea,” Bess said. “That should be enough for extra chocolate cream privileges.”
    â€œI was up all night learning about magicians,” George said. “That should be my ticket to the treat.”
    â€œI was up too,” Bess argued. “Because you’re so noisy!”
    They kept at it until we reached the nicest hotel in town, the Towering Heights Resort. I’d texted Ned to find out where Smallwood had been staying. This was it. I pulled into a parking spot.
    Now, to see who else might have stayed there.
    It only took a minute to find out that the magician and his crew weren’t registered.
    â€œRats,” I muttered as we drove to the second-nicest hotel in town. Then the third. And fourth.
    The sun was high in the sky when we reached the last option on our list: a low-budget hotel on the outskirts of town. It was called the Riverview, though it was so far from the river there was no way the name was true. The Highway Traffic View Hotel just didn’t sound as nice, I supposed.
    It was my turn to run in and ask the front desk about our missing magician.
    â€œNancy? What are you doing here?”
    I whirled around to find Hugo sitting at a small table in the lobby, reading the newspaper and drinking a cup of coffee from the local River Run Coffee Shop.
    â€œI—” I wasn’t sure what to tell Hugo. After all, he worked for Lonestar. What would he do to protect his boss from going to jail?
    â€œWe’re supposed to start tearing down the set today, but the police still can’t find Drake,” Hugo told me.
    â€œI assumed he’d be here at the hotel with you,” I said, watching as Hugo swirled the coffee in his cup.
    â€œHe was. But now he’s not,” Hugo said. “Celebrity admirers can get really aggressive when they want to meet their idol,” he explained. “The first night we were here, a man climbed in through Drake’s hotel window. I had to chase the guy down the street. Drake always registers at hotels under phony names to avoid fans, but this one was more persistent than most and followed us back after rehearsal.”
    Hmm . . . So he might have been staying under a different name at one of the hotels we’d already visited.
    â€œSo where is Drake now?” I asked.
    â€œI don’t know,” Hugo said, staring past my left shoulder.
    I turned and saw Ayela and Ariana entering the lobby. As they got in line for the vending machine, they waved at Hugo, who grinned back.
    He turned back to me. “Drake moved after that first night. He changed hotels, picked a fake name to register under, and got himself to rehearsals.”
    â€œBut you’re his bodyguard! You let him do that without protection?” I asked.
    â€œThe truly devoted fans know me by now; a lot of them follow me if they think I’m with him, so we often separate. He goes off the grid. No