Chapter 9
"Holy crap, a secret door?" Mara exclaims.
She and I are more captivated by how perfectly it camouflages with the detailed, intricate wood grain, realizing now that's exactly why it was built this way.
Meanwhile, Sabrina's attention is firmly fixed on the cute guy in front of us. "Hi, we're checking in."
I don't know how she does it, but that simple sentence is filled with flirtation.
"The Calloway party?" he confirms.
"Yes." Mara steps forward, her wallet already out, prepared to show ID. "Mara Calloway for two nights, please."
"Welcome to Frosthaven Falls." He taps at the computer, printing out some forms to sign. "What brings you to our bustling metropolis?"
Sabrina laughs like it's the funniest joke she's heard in a while.
"We're—" I begin, but am interrupted by Sabrina, practically shoving me aside.
"We're here to see why this place was voted best slopes in California."
That's not even true, and I have no idea where she's coming up with this information.
"I don't know about that." He scratches the back of his head, realizing his faux pas. "Oh, sorry. My name's Chet. My family owns the Whispering Pines Motel. I'll be your point of contact if you need anything."
"Are there any upgrades available?" Sabrina can't help but ask, like this is the Four Seasons.
This causes Chet to laugh, and I'll admit, he is quite cute—in a rugged, handyman, flannel-clad lumberjack wannabe kind of way.
"You're the last guests to check in, so unfortunately, there are no other rooms or upgrades available. But maybe…" He tilts his head, signaling Sabrina to come closer. "I might give you the code to the vending machine for free snacks."
We all force a laugh that doesn't quite feel genuine, but Mara signs the paperwork, and Chet hands over our room key.
"Room six." I palm the key Mara passed over that is attached to a large plastic keychain, like something from The Overlook Hotel.
Eventually, we need to pick his brain about the murders—just not the moment we arrive. He'll catch on if we're too eager.
"Just a heads-up—don't plan on leaving past two p.m. if you want to ski; traffic is a nightmare. And if you decide to grab a drink at The Red Barn Pub, Agnes pours heavy. One drink and you'll be on your ass. You can walk from here, just make sure you've got the right layers on. It's that way."
Chet points toward the window, but only I turn to figure out where the bar is located.
At that very moment, I spot a figure lurking near the tree line—his arms dangling awkwardly, as if he's not fully in control of his own limbs.
His face is twisted into something disturbingly familiar.
My pulse spikes. It's him. The same man who chained our tires.
The one I saw at the police station, slipping a file from the records room.
And now, he's no more than fifty feet away.
He walks with a limp, his face locked in a permanent scowl, like he was born with that level of unpleasantness.
His pants have been changed since he stained them, and now he's wrapped in a bulky jacket.
I can't be sure, but it looks like Mara's socks are being used as gloves, and the thought makes my heart slam against my ribcage.
He moves through the town with an unsettling calm, like he owns the place, his eyes glazed over as if he's untouchable.
No one dares approach him to tell him he's not welcome.
They're probably too scared. The town freak.
Gasping in terror, I shout, "He's here!"
Chet's body stiffens as I yank him toward the door. But when we step outside, there's no one.
"Who?" Chet asks, scanning the area.
"He was right there!" I point to the spot where I last saw him, the footprints and tracks still visible. I run toward them, half-expecting to catch a whiff of his scent, to track him like a bloodhound.
Mara and Sabrina follow behind, clearly confused.
"What's wrong?" Mara asks.
"That crazy man! That freaking weirdo! I just saw him. Where did he go?"
"What weirdo?" Chet stares at me, like maybe I'm the crazy one.
"Him?" Sabrina's one word speaks volumes, and Mara instantly gets it.
"This guy harassed us when we got stuck in the snow. He was threatening us, and when we finally left, he masturbated. It was terrible!"
"He objectified us!" Sabrina cringes, embellishing the truth a smidge.
I'm not quite ready to tell them I also saw him at the police station, because that would mean I didn't trust Mara's response about the files—a confrontation I'd like to avoid. "I just saw him, I swear. Maybe he went into the bar? Should we go in?"
"Hold up." Chet raises his palms, trying to calm everyone down. "Which guy are we talking about? What did he look like?"
"He lives off Deadwood Grove." Mara shows Chet the photo on her phone. "The first house."
"Deadwood Grove?" Chet raises an eyebrow. "No one lives on that road. Sure, there's an abandoned house, but I'm pretty sure no one's been there for years."
"He had Christmas lights up front," I add. "He had to have electricity."
"Well, I've lived here my whole life, and I don't know of anyone living there."
Chet's conclusion makes no sense. What, a bum with a generator? A homeless guy who paid the energy bill for a house that's been abandoned for years?
"He's, like, ill looking." Sabrina's description is pretty spot-on even if it gives nothing useful.
"Ill looking?" Chet echos.
"He took Mara's socks!" I roar.
"Socks?" It's official, Chet thinks we are the crazy ones.
"Need I remind you he jerked off with them?" Mara rushes to my side, trying to be supportive.
Chet's judgment is so obvious, and my heart sinks. Maybe we're three girls from L.A., clueless about how life operates eight thousand feet above the rest of the world in a town full of secrets.
"You have nothing to worry about," Chet says, his voice lacking any trace of reassurance.