Chapter Twenty-Nine
Right on cue, my stomach growls. Reminding me that I’ve only had half of a muffin and two cups of coffee today.
“Okay, okay,” I mutter under my breath. “Lunch it is.”
I close my laptop and grab my purse. I glance down at my desk calendar. It looks like someone attacked it with a red marker. I’ve been slammed all week. Meeting after meeting. Zoom call after Zoom call.
But for now, I need food.
I stand and stretch my arms over my head until my back pops, then grab my phone and step into the hallway.
The Belicourt is humming with midday activity. Staff members move with determination.
I walk through the door at the end of the corridor and head across the lobby toward the elevator, already imagining a burger and maybe one of those enormous chocolate chip cookies from the grill upstairs.
I’m halfway there when someone calls my name.
“Miss Storm.”
I stop and turn.
Porter’s father—Barron Garrison—approaches from the direction of the grand staircase.
He looks exactly the way he did when I met him on Tuesday.
Perfectly put together.
Crisp navy suit, silver hair neatly combed back, the steady, confident stride of a man who’s spent his entire life walking into rooms and taking command.
Is that the same suit? Or does he have multiples of the same one?
“Mr. Garrison,” I say politely.
He smiles warmly. “I was heading down to your office to see you.”
“You were?”
He nods. “Yes. Is this a bad time?”
“No,” I say with a small laugh. “I’m just on my way to lunch.”
“Perfect timing, then,” he says. “I’ll only keep you a second.”
He slips his hands casually into his pockets.
“Porter mentioned something interesting to me at dinner last night.”
“Oh?”
“He told me it’s your family that’s partnering with Bryce Raintree.”
My shoulders relax. “Yes, sir. Wildhaven Storm and Bryce are partners in the Raintree-Storm Rodeo Academy.”
Recognition lights in his eyes. “Ah.” He nods thoughtfully. “Miss Storm. Makes sense now.”
Okay.
“Bryce invited me to the grand opening in two weeks.”
My eyebrows lift slightly. “That’s wonderful.”
“I’m looking forward to meeting your family.”
A warm smile spreads across his face.
“They’ll be thrilled to meet you too, Mr. Garrison.”
He chuckles. “It really is a small world.”
“That it is.”
Because a few months ago, I was just a kid on campus.
Now I’m working for the Garrison family at a luxury resort and rubbing elbows with a senator.
Life has a funny sense of humor.
“Well,” he says after a beat, “I won’t keep you from your lunch.”
“Thank you.”
“And, Miss Storm?”
“Yes?”
“I think you have a bright future here at the Belicourt.”
My cheeks warm slightly. “That means a lot, sir.”
He nods once and continues across the grand hall toward the lounge.
I exhale slowly.
The Garrison men have a way of making conversations feel like work, even when they’re being perfectly pleasant.
I resume my walk toward the elevators.
Right as I reach them, the doors slide open.
Calliope stands inside.
Her bouncy curls are piled messily on top of her head, and her eyes are twinkling.
“Well, look who it is,” she says. “Lunch break?”
I nod.
“Grill?”
“You read my mind.”
I step inside, and she presses the button for the fourth floor.
The doors slide shut.
“So,” she says immediately, “did you find anything at the library?”
My excitement sparks back to life. “Yes.”
“Well?”
I lean against the elevator wall. “Not a lot,” I admit. “But I did find something interesting.”
Her eyes widen. “Tell me.”
I lower my voice slightly, even though we’re the only ones in the elevator.
“So, there wasn’t much documented about The Lady in Red incident itself.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.”
“But,” I continue, “I found an article about a young woman who went missing from a group home on the other side of the mountain.”
Calliope’s eyebrows shoot up. “When?”
“About the same time witnesses say the incident happened here in December of 1936.”
The elevator hums upward.
“That can’t be a coincidence,” she says.
“That’s what I thought.”
“So, she just disappeared into thin air?”
“That’s the weird part.”
The elevator dings softly as we pass another floor.
“A few weeks later,” I say, “it was reported she’d been spotted in California.”
Calliope frowns. “So, not dead?”
“According to the newspaper, no. Safe and sound.”
“Well, that sucks. Not that she was safe, but that it means it wasn’t her.”
“I don’t know,” I say. “It seems … unlikely.” I cross my arms thoughtfully. “How did she get there? Where did she get the money? I mean, if she was being housed at a home for wayward girls, where would she get resources to up and start a new life so far away?”
“Hmm,” Calliope hums.
“And did anyone go with her?”
“So many questions.”
The elevator doors open to the fourth level, where the grill sits, overlooking the courtyard.
But neither of us moves yet.
Calliope leans against the wall beside me. “Okay,” she says, lowering her voice dramatically, “I see your point. Something doesn’t add up.”
“Right? It’s too suspicious. A convenient story.”
“Speaking of questionable occurrences,” she says.
I raise an eyebrow. “What?”
She grins. “You’ll love this. A guest requested to be moved out of room 522 this morning.”
“Room 522?”
“The very same.”
“What happened?”
“He wanted to be relocated out of the main inn altogether. And they upgraded him to the Alpine Tower, free of charge.”
My curiosity spikes. “Why did he say he wanted to be moved?”
Calliope’s grin widens. “He swears the lights were flickering.”
It’s a standard complaint for the room over the years. Even though no electrician has been able to figure out why.
“And something kept whispering his name all night long.”
My mouth drops open. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope.
“He got so spooked.”
“Did anyone else hear anything?”
“Nope.”
“That is either very creepy,” I say.
“Or he drank too much at his company’s convention kickoff party the night before,” she finishes.
I laugh. “Probably both.”
But the little thrill of curiosity still crawls down my spine.
Because if there’s even a tiny chance something strange is happening in that room, I want to know.
The elevator doors begin to close, and I quickly stick my hand out to stop them.
“Wait,” I say.
Calliope tilts her head. “What?”
“What time do you get off tonight?”
Her eyes narrow suspiciously. “Why?”
I grin slowly.
“How do you feel about doing a little ghost recon?”
Her face lights up instantly. “Oh my God, yes.”
“We could check out room 522 after dark. And maybe the old emergency staircase. See if we can find evidence of those hidden passageways.”
Calliope practically vibrates with excitement. “I get off at seven.”
“I’m leaving at four, but I can come back,” I say as I step out.
She squeals. “Bring flashlights. And maybe some sage.”
I give her a thumbs-up.
The elevator doors finally close again, and I start moving.
My stomach growls loudly.
“All right,” I say to myself.
Time to fuel.
Ghost hunting requires proper nourishment.