Charlaine Harris

I was biting my lip to keep from making a sound when I stood in the doorway of the guest bedroom. There was a card table holding a tape player, a pad of paper, and a pencil. there was a Dr Pepper can on the table. The folding chair that had been in front of the table was lying on its side. I touched my fingers to the Dr Pepper can. It was still cold. A red light indicated the tape player was on, but the tape compartment was open and empty. I ran back to the living room and fumbled through the pockets of the leather jacket. They were empty, too.