She could not believe it. She felt drained and panic rose like a crescendo through her. How could things get screwed up so bad? How could she possibly explain all this to police? Who would believe her that she had no memory at all of what happened last night in the hotel room. She could not even tell them that how did she end up here what she had were just vague recollections from the bar...the trance music...smoke...drink...dancing and drugs. Was she drugged? Was this some kind of hallucination that she was having. She hoped against hope that this entire thing better be a dream or hallucination or whatever....but not reality. Suddenly there was a knock on the door and her heart froze. She got up and moved towards it and opened it with shivering hands. It was house-keeping and had come there to change the sheets. She flashed a reluctant smile and told the maid her partner was still asleep, asked her to come back later and closed the door.
With her heart hammering she collapsed against the gate. She needed to get out of here fast. Nate would be worried sick about her. She had to contact him. She reached for her clutch and started fishing for her phone. But it was not there. Her driving license, employee identification card, ATM and credit cards everything was gone. But the thing that surprised her most was that all her cash was intact. Why would anybody leave all that amount behind? But first, she needed to wipe off her fingerprints. She took a towel from the bathroom and cleaned all the possible places which she might have touched. She took off the bed-sheet and the pillow cover and soaked them in water along with Jack’s clothes to remove anything which might lead to a DNA trace.
She was hurrying down the steps of the hotel when she felt a hand on her shoulders. She stopped dead in her tracks and slowly turned around. It was the concierge. He said, “Miss Ella, last night you left your wallet at the desk”. “Sorry, I think there is some sort of misunderstanding. I am not Ella”, she said. “But your photo ID is in there. That was how I was able to recognize you in first place. I think you still have a hangover from last night. You were quite drunk. Take it. ” And he gave her the wallet. She opened it and took out the ID. It was her photograph in there but the name below it wasn’t hers. It was some Ella Smith and according to the card she worked as a secretary for some Jonathan Hopkins, Senior VP, Pitt &Hopkins consultancy, 12th Madison Street, New York.
She was lost. Getting up in the morning in bed with a dead man...her Photo ID with a different name...she knew it was not the end but the beginning of something she could not figure out. But her sixth sense told her that whatever it is, it’s not going to be good. But still she needed to get back to her apartment ASAP. She needed to talk to Nate. Explain him everything. Maybe he might help her in sorting out this mess. She hailed a cab, gave the driver the address to the apartment and closed her eyes.
“Lexington Apartments”, driver’s voice brought her back. She got out, paid the driver and ran for the elevator. Once at the door, she frantically knocked at it. After what seemed to be ages the door opened. It was Nate, her husband. Just looking at him made her feel calm. She hugged him tight and said, “Baby, you would not believe what a night I had. We need to talk. ” Nate stepped back from her and scanned her bottom up and said, “Sorry miss. Do I know you?”
