Chapter 2 #2
Opening the gate brought a squeaky squeal that heightened the anxiety running through me. I didn't know exactly what I was afraid of, but as we entered the front patio, I saw a curtain drop in one of the front windows, making me think that someone was watching, someone was waiting.
What if this was a horrible mistake? What if we checked in and were never seen again? What if we ended up like Natalie?
That was ridiculous, I told myself. My grandmother had been running this inn for fifty years, and as far as I knew, Natalie was the only one who had disappeared.
Still, I paused as Tessa brushed past me. "Wait," I said, the word escaping before I could stop it.
"Tessa looked back at me. "What's wrong?"
"Everything. I don't think we should do this."
"We just drove eight hours to get here. We're not leaving now. It's going to be fine, Cassidy."
"I don't know what it's going to be, but I'm pretty sure it won't be fine," I said.
Before Tessa could reply, the front door opened, and a woman stood in the entry, her features lost in the shadows.
Was this my grandmother?
Panic suddenly ran through me, and I had to fight the urge to run. But it was too late to turn back.
When we reached the front porch, the woman holding open the door beckoned us inside, and as the interior light reached her face, I sucked in a quick breath.
This woman was my grandmother, Ellen Clarke. I recognized her from the photo on the inn's website. But she appeared older and taller than I expected. In the photo her hair was brown. Now it was white and fairly short, the straight ends hitting at her collarbone.
She towered over me by at least five inches, making her probably five ten or eleven. In her gray slacks and navy sweater, she appeared thin, but she didn't feel frail or wispy, she felt strong and somewhat stern.
"Good evening," she said politely, but there wasn't any warmth in her brown eyes.
"Hello," Tessa said. "We're checking in. I'm Tessa Conway."
"Yes. I've been expecting you. I'm Ellen Clarke, the owner of this Inn." She stepped behind the front desk. "I was hoping you'd make it in before the fog got worse. Driving can be treacherous in weather like this. I'll need a credit card to cover incidentals," she added.
As Tessa went through the routine motions of checking in, I couldn't take my eyes off my grandmother.
I wished I could say I would have recognized her anywhere, but that wouldn't have been the truth.
She didn't look like my father, who had blondish hair and blue eyes.
Maybe he'd taken after his dad, but I had no idea what my grandfather had looked like.
"And you are?" Ellen said, her voice cutting through my reverie.
I started at the question. I'd prepared for it, but I still wasn't ready. Finally, I bit out my answer. "I'm Cassidy Bennett," I said using my mother's maiden name. Although if Ellen knew anything about me, she'd probably recognize my first name.
Her expression remained guarded as she wrote down my name. Then, she said. "You're in luck. I have an extra room open. Instead of sharing, I'll be putting you in two rooms, just across the hall from each other on the third floor."
"We can't afford two rooms," I said. "We're happy to share."
"It's complimentary. And you'll be more comfortable with more space.
Our rooms are not very big." She handed each of us a heavy metal key, in keeping with the rustic nature of their surroundings.
"I'll have Ray bring up your bags shortly.
There's no elevator, so I don't want you to have to take your luggage up two flights of stairs. "
"That's great," Tessa said.
"Breakfast is served in the dining room from seven thirty to ten a.m.," Ellen added.
"Our happy hour will be ending at seven, but you're more than welcome to grab a glass of wine and some snacks.
We don't serve dinner, but I would hate to send you back into town with the weather changing, so if you'd like something more substantial, I can have our cook make you something simple to eat. "
"We've been eating all day," I said. "Whatever snacks you have will be fine."
"The dining room is just beyond the living room.
" She waved her hand toward the archway behind us.
"You'll also find a brochure in your room for our wellness offerings, but I did want to let you know that tomorrow morning there's a yoga class on the deck at ten.
It's a beautiful way to start the day if you're inclined. "
"That sounds nice," I said.
Ellen gave me a longer look that made me nervous. Did she recognize me?
"I did want to mention," she said, "that we prohibit camera use inside the inn, to respect the privacy of our guests."
"Understood," I said as Tessa nodded her head in agreement.
"Good. Welcome to the Stonecross Inn."
As Ellen finished speaking, a big, muscular man, who appeared to be in his forties, came into the reception area.
"This is Ray Connors," Ellen said. "He'll take your bags up. One room has a garden view, the other an ocean view. But they're both lovely, and the garden view room has a beautiful bathtub."
"That's the one I want," Tessa said. "I love a good bath. You take the ocean view, Cassidy."
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely. This is my bag," Tessa told Ray, pointing to her blue roller bag. "The beige one is Cassidy's."
"I'll take them up," Ray said in a deep, gravelly voice.
As Ray grabbed each of our bags and moved quickly up the stairs, we made our way into the living room.
An older woman sat by the fire knitting and chatting with another woman about her age.
When we got to the dining room, we saw a young couple sitting close together, stealing a kiss between sips of wine.
Probably honeymooners, I thought, feeling reassured by the people I'd seen so far.
I had been letting my imagination get the best of me.
This was just a charming bed and breakfast that had been serving customers for a very long time.
The fact that Natalie had disappeared after leaving here probably wasn't connected.
After a glass of wine and some delicious cheese and crackers, I started to feel more relaxed. "I needed this," I said.
"You do seem less tense. What did you think about your grandmother?"
"Don't call her that with people around," I said in a hushed voice, my tension returning.
"Sorry. What did you think of Ellen?"
"She was polite but not that friendly. She doesn't have the usual warm, outgoing inn owner personality."
"No, she doesn't. I was a little surprised." Tessa paused. "Maybe she recognized you, and that's why it felt awkward. She was waiting for you to say something."
"She could have said something if that was the case." I shook my head. "I don't think she recognized me. She didn't even flinch when I said my first name."
"Well, something seemed off."
"She might know something about our podcast. Maybe that's why she was guarded, why she warned us about taking photos inside. I guess we'll find out at some point."
Tessa nodded. "The guy who took our bags looked like a bouncer at a bar."
"And was also not that friendly. But we should try to talk to him tomorrow."
"Agreed." Tessa bit back a yawn at the end of her sentence. "I'm tired. I know it's early, but I want to take a bath and then get into bed. I'll have more energy tomorrow to get going on our investigation."
"Me, too. Let's go upstairs and check out our rooms."
Tessa poured herself another glass of wine, taking it with her, as we made our way back through the living room and up the stairs.
When we reached the third-floor landing, I saw a woman entering a room at the far end of the hall.
She was dressed in black jeans and a black sweater, and as she gave us a startled look, I caught a glimpse of her face.
She was very pale, and she looked scared.
Before I could say anything, she opened her door and slipped inside.
I gave Tessa a questioning look.
She shrugged. "Maybe she just didn't feel like saying hello. Sometimes, I don't like talking to other people when I'm tired, which is one reason I don't usually stay at bed-and-breakfasts. Guests generally like to chat."
"True."
We paused in front of our respective doors. I felt reluctant to say goodnight. But Tessa, who was craving a night in a room without roommates, was eagerly unlocking her door, happy with our new arrangements, so I simply gave her a smile and said, "Sleep well."
"You, too. What time do you want to start?"
"Eight?"
She frowned. "I'm pretty beat. Let's do nine. We can get breakfast and figure out what to do first."
"Okay. See you in the morning." I slipped my key into the lock and turned the knob.
As I stepped into the room, the darkness unnerved me, and I quickly found the switch.
As light warmed the room, I felt a little less uneasy.
The room was charming, with a rustic wood-framed double bed and matching nightstands.
A small desk and dresser were along the wall next to the entrance to the bathroom.
Letting out a breath that I felt like I'd been holding forever, I walked over to the window to pull the curtains.
It was dark and foggy outside, and the window was so wet I couldn't see anything but condensation.
Maybe that was good. I was too stressed out by everything; I didn't need a spooky landscape to add to my tension.
Closing the curtains, I sat down on the bed, thinking about my grandmother.
It didn't appear that she'd recognized my name, which probably meant she'd never heard anything about me.
Maybe she didn't even know she had a granddaughter.
My father had left when he was eighteen, and he'd told me he hadn't had any contact with her since.
When I'd asked how he'd managed to survive without any parental support, he'd admitted that he'd had ten thousand dollars in a savings account that his father had started when he was born.
He'd used that to pay for his first year of college, but he'd also worked while going to school.
He was very proud of having made all his own money, and over the years, he'd created a great deal of wealth for himself.
I'd benefited as well. I'd grown up with privilege, and he'd paid for my college, but that's where it had ended. He'd always believed that I should make my own money, too. I just wasn't as good at that as he was.
But I'd get there. I wasn't going to ask him for help unless I was destitute, although that moment might not be too far away if I couldn't turn this podcast into a moneymaker.
Taking out the file I'd put together last night, I went over my notes and the list I'd begun making as to who we should talk to.
My grandmother was at the top of that list, but since we were staying at the inn, it seemed better to move her down for now.
We didn't need her to kick us out before we got any information.
It would be better to start with some of the employees, maybe even the yoga teacher.
Someone not directly working for my grandmother might be more willing to talk to us.
As I flipped through pages of my notes on Natalie, I couldn't help wondering what room she'd stayed in.
And as the window rattled from a gust of wind, a shiver ran down my spine.
She could have been in this room for all I knew.
She could have been sitting on this bed, just like I was, not knowing what was coming…
I drew in a shaky breath as I completely freaked myself out.
I was being ridiculous. Natalie could have been in any room in the inn.
Putting the file aside, I took out my phone to distract myself with social media, but I couldn't seem to relax no matter how hard I tried. Giving up, I opened my suitcase, changed into PJs, brushed my teeth, and then got into bed.
As I turned off the lamp next to the bed, I tried to think happy thoughts, but every muscle in my body was tense, and I began to wish I'd chosen the room with the bathtub. That might have helped me relax.
I also really wished there was a TV in the room. I could watch something on my laptop, but it needed a charge, and the only plug was by the desk.
I just needed to sleep.
Tomorrow, everything would look better. Closing my eyes, I tried to find a happy image to concentrate on. And then I heard a crash. I jolted up in bed, wondering if it had been the wind or something else. It was quiet now…or was it?
It sounded like someone was crying.
I got out of bed, moving closer to the wall vent where I could hear sobs and also a hushed voice, commanding someone to be quiet.
Getting down on my knees by the vent, I strained to hear more, but now there was nothing but silence. I sat there for several minutes, not knowing what to do.
Should I go downstairs? Try to find my grandmother? Tell her I heard a crash and then someone crying?
But I didn't even really know what I'd heard.
As my knees began to ache from the hard floor, I got up and returned to bed. But now I felt even more awake, and all I could think about was how much I wanted to go home.
I pulled out my phone and texted Tessa: Are you awake?
I waited for a long five minutes. No answer. Tessa was probably asleep. I couldn't just pound on her door and wake her up. Not just because I didn't want to interrupt her sleep, but because I was also too afraid to open the door and venture into the hall.
How on earth was I going to be an investigative journalist when my imagination was turning a quaint bed and breakfast into some sort of house of horrors? I should probably just be writing novels.
Telling myself over and over again that everything was fine, I closed my eyes and tried to focus on my breathing, but my mind kept drifting to Natalie Warren, to the woman who'd come here for wellness and then vanished.
I really hoped that wasn't going to happen to us. But alone in this room, I couldn't help wondering, if Tessa and I didn't come back, would anyone be able to figure out why?