21. Chapter 21
Chapter 21
Cameron
My footsteps thud on the carpet as I sprint after her. My heart pounds in sync with each stride. I weave through the crowd like a running back dodging tackles, sliding past elderly couples, ducking under drink trays, sidestepping laughing groups. I see the girl turn down the hallway.
From behind, I swear that's her. “Melanie?” I yell, but it gets absorbed into the noise. The loud music and chatter from all the people means there's no way she could have heard me. But I had to try.
The long hallway dramatically stretches out before me as I stop. Suddenly, I feel like I'm the kid riding the tricycle in The Shining. My breath comes in sharp bursts. Damn, this tension is killer. I step forward as my mind floods with questions. Why did she run from me? Why wouldn't she come talk to me? Fuck, is what she wrote in the note true? I push the thoughts from my mind, telling myself I have to focus, I need answers. If she doesn't want me, then, damn it, she's going to tell me that to my face.
Finally, some good luck, I realize the hallway is a dead end, no door to the outside. The laundry and maintenance room doors, restrooms, and kitchen staff entrance are the only things in this hall. The other kitchen door is blocked; it's being used as a hot appetizer serving station. She must be hiding; there's nowhere else she can go.
The first doors are the restrooms. I checked the men's and didn't find anyone in a lavender dress. Standing outside the ladies' room, I hesitate. The slightly quieter sounds of music and laughter drift from the foyer. Shit, I can't just barge in, but... if she's in there.
The door swings open and Mrs. Gentry emerges, looking exactly as she did when she taught my Sunday school class. I thought she was old then; now I can't fathom how old she is. Mom calls her the chatterbox, just what I don't need right now.
“Mrs. Gentry,” I nod, trying to keep my voice steady despite my racing pulse, “did you see a woman in a lavender dress in there?”
“Why Cameron Whitaker. Say, this is quite a party you're throwing. I've already had two sunrise something drinks. Made me have to tinkle.” She smiles with her grandmotherly expression. “You know, people didn't know if you would be here tonight, you poor man. I'm glad you are; chin up, things will get better.”
“Yes, ma'am, is there—”
“You know, I don't think I'll make it to midnight. I took a nap, but ten o'clock is pretty late for me, these days.” She chuckles at her own joke.
“Yes, ten is late.” Of all the people I had to run into. Focus, Cameron. “Mrs. Gentry, about that woman in the lavender dress?”
“Where, dear?”
God, give me strength.
“In the bathroom,” I point and enunciate each word like I'm speaking to a child. “Was there a woman wearing a lavender dress in the bathroom?”
“I don't think so, dear. I believe I was the only one in there.”
Before I can stop myself, I brush past her and push through the door. The bathroom is empty - just gleaming mirrors reflecting my desperate expression back at me. I sigh. When I open the door to leave, Mrs. Gentry's eyes are wide, her mouth open in a shocked expression.
“Cameron Whitaker! That is the ladies' restroom. You naughty boy don't belong in there.” She smacks my arm. “I have half a mind to tell your mother.”
“Sorry, Mrs. Gentry.” I look past her, my eyes trained on the housekeeping door.
“Ah, of course, where there's one of you, the other one can't be far behind.” Mrs. Gentry, who had turned to leave, stopped. “Good evening Michael, aren't you a sweet boy putting up that reward money.”
I spin on my heel, snapping my head in his direction.
“Mrs. Gentry, you're looking especially good tonight.” Michael steps up to her. “Happy New Year.”
“Aww, and Happy New Year's to you too, dear. Now, there's a drink with my name on it somewhere. Good night, boys. Be a good boy Michael, keep him out of the ladies' bathroom, won't you?” Mrs. Gentry shuffles off towards the party.
Michael looks at me, chuckling, “What was that about?”
“I saw her! She's not dead! She's here!” I grab Michael's suit collar, yanking him to me. The expensive fabric bunches in my fist.
“Heeeey!” He jerks away, smoothing the material with practiced hands. “Careful! This is Italian fucking tailoring.” He looks up at me. “What is wrong with you? Of course she's not dead. The damn old bat was just talking to us.”
“Not her! Melanie!” Her name feels electric on my tongue. I watch the shock ripple across Michael's face.
He stands there like his brain is rebooting. “The fuck! Where?” His eyes dart around the hallway. “Hold on, how do you know she's here?”
The words fly out of my mouth like I'd just opened a water spigot. I explain about the drink. The lavender dress. The blonde hair that must be a wig. With each detail, I sound more desperate and yet more certain.
“Bro, I get the drink but, you don't know for sure that it was her.” Michael's voice is maddeningly calm. “I mean, a lot of women like lavender. Did you actually see her, see her?”
“No. But damn it, Michael, I know it was her. My gut says it's her.”
“Cam,” Michael clears his throat. “Ah, bro, if it's her, why didn't she talk to you? Why did she run?”
I didn't have an answer for him. Why didn't she? My brain echoed Michael's questions.
“I don't know, but I want to, so I'm going to find her.” I take a step around him.
“Okay, okay, I'll help.” He blows out his breath. “Well, if it was Melanie, she knows this Inn. She would know this hall doesn't have an exit. Meaning she would have no reason to come down here. So, let's head back to the foyer and canvas the place. Maybe she turned but then ducked down and hid among the coats. Makes sense, that's where I would go since there's a shit ton of them. Then she could have circled back around.”
I nod my head like that makes sense. We walk back toward the main foyer, my eyes scanning every person, every shadow, every corner. “Look around the coats. I was heading to take a leak when I ran into you. I'll be right back.” Michael says, turning back toward the bathrooms.
I rifle through the coat rack but find nothing. I ask the two coat attendants, but neither of them recalls seeing a lady in lavender. Looking at the sea of faces in the foyer, I realize there's only one way to know for sure if Melanie was here or is still here. I head for my office, completely forgetting about Michael in my single-minded pursuit of the truth.
As usual, Michael's right, why didn't she come talk to me. Why did she run? Unless, the note she left was right, and she never cared for me. Unconsciously, I pick up my pace, my hands balled into fists.
Fine! If that was her, and she didn't even make an effort to talk to me, then the note's right. And things are done, for good. Stopping myself from going off the deep end, I shut myself in my office and press my back against the door.
“This is what it's come to. First, I have to have proof.” My family and I deserve to know if it was her. I bring my computer up and click on the security footage.
“I take back what I said earlier. Please, don't be her.”
Melanie
I saw him at the bar, and for one perfect moment, time stood still and everything else fell away. He looked amazing - the blue suit I love so much fitting his athletic frame perfectly. I was lost in memories of happier times when I saw him start searching the crowd, his movements becoming more agitated. When the bartender pointed in my direction, I knew my time was up. Face him or flee. With no proof against Michael yet, I had no choice but to run.
His quick movements my way caught my eye. Cameron was weaving through the crowd with desperate grace, getting closer with each step.
Shit.
Without thinking, I bolted down the hallway, realizing too late it was a dead end. Desperately, I spun around. What am I going to do? Fate intervened just as I was about to hide in the bathroom. A woman emerged from the housekeeping door carrying a stack of napkins. The moment she turned, I slipped through the door like a shadow. The room was empty, thank God. I pressed my back against the door, trying to control my breathing. I strained to hear anything through the wood. Grabbing a glass from a nearby cart, I held it against the door. A smart old reporter's trick. Cameron's voice came through clearly as he questioned Mrs. Gentry.
Then my blood turned to ice as another voice joined them. My heart doubled its pumping. I placed a hand over my mouth.
It’s Michael.
Nooo. I shook my head, blinking back the tears. Please no.
I forced myself to keep listening as Michael dismissed Cameron's suspicions. Their voices faded, heading for the coat rack, but I remained frozen in fear for a moment. Finally, feeling like I might be okay, I put my hand on the handle of the door.
I heard Michael's voice much closer this time. Super gently I put the glass back against the door. He was on his phone.
“All of you to the Inn now.” A pause that seemed to last forever. “My lost bunny is here.” He growled out orders. “She doesn't get out of here. Short of killing her, I don't care how you stop her. Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?” Another pause. “You better be within five minutes.” He hissed.
In my head I saw Mr. Daggers looking at me with those evil eyes that said nothing good was going to happen if he caught me. I realized I'd been holding my breath. I forced myself to exhale slowly, my heart beating so fast. Still holding the door with my other hand, I found the doorknob lock and twisted it with trembling hands. Through the glass, I could hear Michael grumbling.
“That little whore...” Some words I couldn't make out. “What game does she think she's playing...” More unintelligible mumbling. Then, crystal clear: “I'm going to make her hurt.”
I removed the glass and stood perfectly still. The lights in the room shut off, engulfing me in total blackness. I almost screamed until my inner voice boomed, it's okay, it's a timer, they're on a timer.
I waved my arms, but nothing happened. From inside the darkness, I froze in place, watching a shadow appear under the door. Feet blocking the light from the hallway, the only light. My breath caught in my throat, as the doorknob was jiggled, causing my heart t stop. Still grasping the glass, I brought my hands to my chest.
They tried the door again. I swallowed.
Third try, a lot harder this time. I tried to breathe but couldn't.
Please don't faint. Please don't faint. My head repeated in rhythm with my thundering pulse playing in my ears. I watched the shadow move away.
I can't be caught. What the fuck was I thinking? I'm so dumb. Michael's out there, circling, waiting for me to show myself. And I played right into his hands.
I wiped the tears away with the back of my hand. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, trying to get myself under control. I held my breath, then silently, slowly blew it out. I don't have much time to decide what to do, Mr. Daggers and whoever else are on their way. Okay, okay, what am I going to do? I took another deep breath and again slowly blew it out. Alright, what are my options? Wait for a bit then hope for a clear sprint to the exit? Or risk it now with Michael and Cameron out there somewhere? Maybe waiting right outside this door.
The thought of that made me take two steps back, away from the door. The motion sensors detected my movement and the lights blazed to life.
Thank God. I huffed out a couple of breaths. I'm normally not one who's usually afraid of the dark, that is until my darkness included a predator. Now, it's terrifying.
I set the cup down and pivoted around. Another door! Another door on the far side of the room. I wiped away my tears. Crossing to it, I grabbed the glass again. Nothing. I don't hear anything. I eased it open just enough to see out. Oh, my gosh, I remember this.
I thought back to the afternoon after Cameron's interview. He told me the original owners were odd about staff being seen. So, they installed several hidden corridors. Just like the one Mr. Daggers escorted me down. This must be how housekeeping avoids the foyer moving from laundry to the guest floors.
Bless those odd people.
I slipped my heels off to avoid the clicking noise. Putting the glass down, I slipped into the corridor, closing the door behind me with barely a click. Small glowing lights spread out along the way, lit it enough for me to see. Avoiding the housekeeping carts, I padded down the hallway. The concrete's cold on my bare feet. At the end, another door. I pause to listen. Nothing.
Opening one side of the large double doors, I emerged into a guest wing, right by the exit. Through the glass, I could see all I needed to do was go around the corner and my truck wasn't very far away. Looking over my shoulder, I pushed open the door and took off. The winter air hit my face as I sprinted across the lawn, expecting at any moment to hear footsteps behind me.
The parking lot seemed to stretch for miles. I fumbled with my keys, finally getting the door open and throwing myself inside. I thought about the hotel and how I'd had to dash to the truck that time, too. The engine roared to life. Putting the heat on high and pulling my coat over me, I ventured a look around. There, by the front door, I saw Michael pointing. Three goons dressed all in black-faced him.
“Don't draw attention,” I reminded myself as I pulled out.
I drove aimlessly for an hour, taking random turns, doubling back, making sure no one followed. By the time I got home, it was almost midnight. I collapsed into my chair, finally feeling like I could breathe. Moses jumped on me; I didn't care at all about the dress. Given the night, I was happy to be here with him.
“Moses, that was too close. Way too damn close.”