The Hunt by Jennifer Sturman Read Free Book Online Page A

Iggie and Igobe. She might have left something behind that will give us more information.”
    The rest of us springing into action seemed to finally energize Ben. “I can make a few calls to some colleagues. Somebody might be able to tap into a database and find out where Iggie lives—there has to be a record of it somewhere. And we could check the hotel’s security Page 18

    cameras, too. They would have caught Hilary coming and going last night, and they might also confirm who was with her.”
    “So we have a plan,” I said with satisfaction. I liked plans, and I hoped keeping busy would distract me from my cravings, which were growing more intense with every passing minute.
    “When should we get back together?”
    “It’s close to one now,” said Luisa. “Three o’clock? But I’ll call you if I find somebody who knows how to reach Iggie before then.”
    “Three sounds good,” I started to say before remembering I had a previous engagement.
    “Actually, could we say four-thirty instead? In Union Square?”
    “We can call my mother and postpone,” Peter offered.
    I considered this for a moment, tempted, but then I decided against it. Susan had seemed sufficiently excited about our planned outing that I wouldn’t want to disappoint her, and I doubted ninety minutes one way or another would make much of a difference as far as Hilary was concerned. She was merely being inconvenienced rather than in any real peril—at least, that’s what we thought then.
    “Postpone what?” Luisa asked.
    “We’re supposed to meet my mother at Tiffany’s to choose things for the wedding registry,”
    Peter told her.
    Luisa looked at me, amused. It was yet another expression I’d seen more often than a blush and one that appeared especially frequently when I was the topic of discussion. “You’re going to register?” she asked. “You? The woman whose Realtor had to talk her out of buying an apartment without a kitchen? The woman who uses her oven to store her shoes? The woman who can order ‘the usual’ from every take-out place in Manhattan? The woman who—”
    “Yes, me,” I interrupted, only a little bit huffy.
    “Well,” she said. “We wouldn’t want to get in the way of that.”
    6
    L uisa was already online and searching our alumni directory as the rest of us left the suite and took the elevator down to the room where Ben and Hilary were staying. Ben looked up at the paneled ceiling of the elevator and at the mirror on its back wall as we moved between floors.
    “There’s probably a camera hidden in here somewhere,” he said, “maybe behind the mirror. The tape from last night should have captured anyone who got off on our floor.”
    I would never have thought of that on my own, and although I knew there were security cameras in a lot of public facilities, it was creepy to consider just how pervasive they were. I recognized they could be useful in combating crime and thwarting terrorism, and I was all for combating and thwarting such nefarious activities, but I couldn’t help but wonder how many times I’d embarrassed myself on camera without realizing someone was watching. It was a reminder of why Iggie’s company was so successful—even if you weren’t doing anything wrong, there was something comforting in knowing nobody else knew what you were up to.
    Ben had left the Do Not Disturb sign dangling from the doorknob. He inserted his keycard into the lock, but he paused before opening the door. “I should warn you. It’s sort of chaotic in here.”
    “I know what to expect,” I assured him, “and I know it’s not your fault.” Hilary never did anything halfway, and that included making a mess. In college, this had been a convenient way for her to ensure she would be awarded the first available single bedroom in any of our living quarters, and apparently she’d seen no reason to change her habits since then. It looked as if her suitcase had exploded over the room’s otherwise sleek