Read Alana Candler, Marked for Murder for Free Online

for the offer, though.”
    “If you need a ride back to Ross, let me know, okay?”
    “Sure, Bo. Thanks for coming by. See you later, Kent.” She sent a half-wave in Kent’s direction. Kent lifted a hand and turned toward the door.

EIGHT
     
    OUTSIDE IN THE HALL, BRAD turned away from the nurse’s station and saw Bo and Kent leaving Alana’s room. He cringed inwardly at Bo’s wrinkled sports jacket and ruffled red hair. No matter how many times he suggested Bo dress more carefully, his personality always seemed to assert itself in his clothing. Brad strode forward.
    “Did you finish up at the hotel?”
    Kent leaned against the wall, his hands in his pockets, waiting for Bo to speak.
    Bo ran his fingers through his hair and opened and closed his mouth.
    “Spit it out, Bo. Did you or didn’t you?”
    “I don’t know how to tell you this, buddy, but nothing at the hotel checked out like Alana said.”
    Brad’s jaw tightened. “What do you mean it didn’t check out?”
    “It all differed from what she described, man. There was no room three-thirteen.”
    “Bo, you know Alana wouldn’t lie, and I know she didn’t make up all that stuff about the weird picture and being attacked in the bathroom.”
    “I know Brad, but did you hear what I said? There . . . was . . . no . . . room . . . three-thirteen.”
    Brad stood stunned for a moment. “Maybe they changed the number on the door.”
    Bo shook his head. “Even if they did, the room she described didn’t look anything like what I saw. The picture in the last room on that floor next to the elevator is a waterfall in the mountains, not a country farmhouse with weird colors. The walls and carpets are gray, and the lamps are blue, not yellow like Alana said. None of the things she mentioned last night were there.”
    Frustration combined with weariness from lack of sleep took over. Brad slammed his open hand against the wall. “This is crazy. Someone must have changed the room.”
    “The color of the walls? And the carpet? Come on, Brad, you know that can’t be. There wasn’t even a key card programmed with the number three-thirteen.”
    A nurse in a white uniform passed them with a tray of medicine. The sharp, pungent smell of disinfectant followed her footsteps down the hall, and Brad scrunched his face and watched her pass.
    “Man, I hate this place,” he whispered. “My parents were in this hospital after the wreck. For hours, we thought they’d make it . . . then suddenly, they were both gone. I remember the waiting . . . and the smells.” He dropped his head.
    Bo’s shift in position drew Brad’s attention, and he looked up to see Bo—hands on his hips and staring at Alana’s open door.
    “I need to say something, Brad.”
    “What?”
    Bo scrubbed his face with his hands and then stopped and leveled his gaze at his friend. “I think maybe . . . I mean, maybe Alana . . .”
    “Maybe Alana . . . what?”
    “Maybe . . . maybe she dreamed the whole thing after she ran off the road. Maybe the concussion caused her to hallucinate.” His words came out on a puff of air.
    Brad paced back and forth across the hallway. He clenched and unclenched his hands. His anger was almost to the boiling point as the words spewed out of his mouth.
    “Are you crazy? No way! You know how detailed she was about everything. There’s no way she could have dreamed something so fantastic.”
    A tinge of anger flushed Bo’s face, and his tone grew louder. “Look man, you’re not thinking straight. She’s your sister, and you’re not looking at this logically. Admit that it could happen. Admit that.”
    The hair on Brad’s forehead jerked as he shook his head back and forth. “Never! I’ll never admit to such an absurd idea. There has to be another explanation. We need to dig deeper.”
    The red hair hanging on Bo’s forehead drew attention to the white spots of anger on his face. He raised his shoulders in resignation and walked off toward the