Chapter 4
Chapter Four
A lush garden path led from the side door of the inn to the yoga deck, which extended to the edge of the cliff.
The platform was larger than I'd expected, maybe twenty feet by thirty feet, with a railing that looked sturdy but not particularly high.
Beyond the railing was nothing but air and ocean—a sheer drop to the rocks and water below.
Five other women were already there, arranging their mats in a semicircle facing the ocean. I grabbed one of the rolled mats and found a spot next to the woman who was staying in the room next to me. I gave her a friendly smile. "Hi, I'm Cassidy."
She gave me a startled look as if she hadn't been expecting anyone to speak to her. "I'm Anna," she muttered.
"I think you're in the room next to mine. I saw you in the hallway last night."
Before Anna could answer, a woman stepped up to the front of the group, wearing a loose-fitting sweater over dark-green leggings and a crop top. She had kind green eyes and a warm smile.
"Hello, I'm Becca Thorne," she said. "Welcome to Sunday morning flow. For those who are new, this practice is about connecting with your breath, your body, and this beautiful natural setting. Let's start in a comfortable seated position."
I followed her lead and sank into the opening stretch.
But as I did so, my gaze drifted to Anna.
As she stretched forward, her T-shirt crept up, revealing purple bruises on her side that looked large and painful, making me wonder just how she'd gotten them.
But I couldn't just come out and ask her, especially not now in the middle of class, so I refocused on the yoga moves, hoping I could talk to her more after class.
But we had barely settled into our final relaxation pose, when I saw Anna roll up her mat and walk quickly away.
Clearly, she had no interest in speaking with me.
It was apparent that someone had hurt her.
I hoped whoever had put those bruises on her body wasn't still close to her.
But I couldn't help but think about the crash I'd heard the night before, the broken window that had to be in her room, the hushed command to be quiet, and the sad sobs.
Who had been with Anna last night? And had they been there to help her or to hurt her?
When Becca finally released us from the pose, I rolled up my mat and put it on the pile. Another woman was speaking to Becca, so I walked over to the rail to wait until they were done,
The view was spectacular—the ocean stretching endlessly before me, the white caps gleaming in the sunshine, seagulls flying overhead.
When I looked down at the beach where I had stood earlier, my head spun.
The drop was at least sixty feet, straight down to jagged rocks and now churning water.
The tide was coming in, and the sand was almost entirely covered, just as Tyler had told me.
The railing came up to about my waist—high enough to be safe, but low enough that a stumble, a push, a moment of vertigo could possibly send me over. I gripped the wood, feeling the weathered grain under my palms, and tried not to imagine what it would feel like to fall.
"Beautiful, isn't it?"
I jumped, spinning around to see Becca's smile. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."
"It's fine. I'm not great with heights." I backed away from the edge. "It's beautiful up here, but a little dizzying."
"When Ellen first asked me to teach out here, I wasn't sure about it," Becca said. "But she was right. There's something about practicing yoga with the ocean view offering a sense of space and possibility that's transformative."
"How long have you been teaching here?"
"About three years. That's when Ellen added a wellness program to the inn's offerings. The classes have become quite popular. Many of the guests who come here are looking for rest and a reset. Does that include you?"
"I could use a reset," I admitted. "I live on the twelfth floor of a high-rise in Manhattan where sirens and noise provide the soundtrack for my life."
"I went to New York once for a week, and I was so ready to come back to Maine for fresh air and peace and quiet."
"It is lovely here." I licked my lips, knowing I needed to talk about more than the view, but I wasn't quite sure how to get started. Finally, I said, "Do you know the woman who was next to me? Anna?"
"She came to a class on Friday," Becca said. "Why do you ask?"
"I saw a lot of bruises on her side, and she seemed…scared. I know it's not my business, but I couldn't help wondering if she was in some kind of trouble."
"She told me Friday that she was looking to start her life over," Becca said. "I hope whatever trouble she may have been in is behind her."
"That's good. I hope that's true."
"How long will you be staying? I have another class tomorrow and also on Wednesday."
"I'm not completely sure. My friend, Tessa, and I are writing a book on historic inns, and we want to include this one, so we're looking for historical information and maybe some old photographs, that kind of thing."
"So, this is a business trip, too."
"It is, but I'll try to fit in your classes as well."
"Great. I'm sure Ellen will love to have this inn included in your book."
I licked my lips, now realizing our lie might trigger others to ask Ellen about our book, and I wondered how long before the lie collapsed under its own weight "We haven't spoken to Ellen about the book yet.
We're just starting our research, and we wanted to check out the inn without anyone trying to impress us," I said, searching quickly for a viable story.
"But, of course, we'll talk to her once we decide if we're going to use the inn in the book. "
"You should definitely do that. She's very protective about the inn's reputation."
Since Becca had opened the door, I decided to walk through it. "We heard there was an incident last year; a woman went missing after staying here. We wondered if that had any impact on the inn's reputation."
"I believe that all happened after she left the inn," Becca said quickly, her expression changing from friendly to guarded.
"Did you meet her? I think her name was Natalie Warren."
"She took one of my classes, but I only said hello and exchanged small talk.
She seemed happy enough while she was here.
If you want history on the inn and don't want to talk to Ellen yet, you should speak to Margaret at the Stonecross Library.
She not only runs the library, but she's also the head of the historical society. "
"Thanks for the tip."
"She's probably there today. She works most weekends since her husband died."
"I'm going into town later, so I'll definitely stop in. Thanks."
"Enjoy your stay. And I hope to see you in class again." Becca paused. "I'd give Anna her space. It's kind of you to be concerned about her, but sometimes people who have been hurt just need to be by themselves."
"I understand," I said.
"See you next time."
Becca stopped to talk to another lingering class participant, so I headed into the inn on my own. When I reached the third-floor landing, Tessa popped out of her open door. "There you are. I was about to come looking for you. How was yoga?"
"It was interesting," I replied, my gaze darting down the hall to Anna's closed door. "Let's go inside."
I opened my door and waved her into my room, shutting the door behind me. "The woman next door was there. Her name is Anna. I tried to talk to her. She didn't want to talk back. I also saw a lot of bruises on her side when she was doing a stretch."
"That doesn't sound good."
"I wanted to talk to her about it, offer my help if she needed anything, but she slipped out before class was over. I spoke to the teacher about her, and she said Anna arrived a few days ago and that she thought Anna had left whatever trouble she was in behind her."
"That's vague."
"Becca, the teacher, also suggested that I leave Anna alone, that she needed space.
She said a lot of people come to the inn to reset.
She was perfectly nice about it, but it also felt like a warning.
" I paused. "Oh, and I told her our cover story about writing a book on inns when she asked me what I was doing here.
She commented that Ellen is very particular about the reputation of the inn.
That led me to ask her if that reputation hadn't been hurt by the disappearance of Natalie Warren. "
"You're getting bold, Cassidy. I like it."
I shrugged. "We have to start somewhere, right?
Anyway, Becca said she met Natalie when she was here, that she took a yoga class, but it was her understanding that Natalie left, and her disappearance had nothing to do with the inn.
So, I didn't really get anything new out of her.
However, she did suggest that we go to the library and speak to Margaret, who apparently runs both the library and the historical society.
She said Margaret would have information about the inn if we didn't want to talk to Ellen about our book yet. "
"That's a good tip. Looks like we know who we're going to talk to next.
By the way, I spoke to Sophie. She repeated what everyone else has said about Natalie's disappearance.
She also told me she spoke to Natalie the day before she left, and she seemed fine, a little quiet, maybe even sad, but not upset or scared or anything.
She also mentioned that a lot of single women act like Natalie when they come to the inn, which has become a haven for the lost and disheartened, most of whom seem to be women. "
"That's interesting. Did she tell you anything about Ellen?"
"She's cold and judgmental with her employees, but much nicer to the guests."
"I'm not sure I agree with that."
"Well, we can talk to Sophie more later today. Her family owns Kelly's Pub, and she suggested we stop by tonight for their world-famous burgers. She's working but she'll take a break when we're there and talk to us about the inn and also Manhattan. She wants to pick our brains about where to live."
"That sounds like a good trade-off."
"I agree. In the meantime, I think we should go into town, check out the library, and see what we can learn about the history of the inn and the Clarke family.
Then we poke around downtown and end up at Kelly's Pub for dinner, where we can talk to Sophie more freely.
Hopefully, we'll get some information to share on our podcast tonight. "
"Don't you think we should wait to do the podcast until Morgan gets in tomorrow? As soon as people in this town find out about our podcast, they'll stop talking. The longer we can work our cover story, the better, right?"
"I see your point. Let's decide later. If we come up with some good information, I don't think we should sit on it."
"Fine, but there's still a possibility we won't come up with anything."
"We already have stuff to talk about, the mysterious crash, the crying, the woman with bruises, the cryptic man on the beach…"
"We can't talk about any of that. We don't know what it means."
"We don't have to know what it means; we just have to let our listeners feel what we're feeling."
"Right now, I'm feeling a little sick to my stomach," I said dryly.
Tessa laughed. "Well, if we make our listeners a little queasy, they won't be able to walk away." She stood up and then said, "Oh, there's one more thing Sophie told me, and you're not going to like it, but it's going to be great for the podcast."
"What's that?"
"Natalie stayed here—in this room."
My stomach dropped. "You're right. I don't like that at all."