Chapter Fourteen
—JAMIE
There are moments when you reconsider your life choices. Did I go on this adventure to hang out with Noa again? Mostly—I’m not going to lie to myself about that. But did I expect to end up at an abandoned hotel, breaking and entering, hoping to solve a decades-old murder? Absolutely not.
I guess that’s my fault. Should have expected anything.
The Everglades stretch around me, humming with heat thick enough to choke on.
It definitely smells like there’s something dead here, some animal carcass rotting nearby.
I shift my stance, my sneaker sinking an inch into the soft, marshy ground.
Every sound—the ripple of water, the rustle of reeds—has my nerves on edge.
I know there’s wildlife out here. Things with teeth.
Things that don’t care that I’m not part of the food chain.
In my pocket, my phone buzzes. I sigh, knowing that it’s probably my mother. But when I check the screen, I see Jordan’s name instead.
A flash of anger washes over me, hot and fast. My fingers tighten around the phone as I instinctively reach up to touch the bruise under my eye. It still stings.
Jordan followed Matteo after he hit me. She didn’t stand up to him or call him out—not for what he did to me; not for what he did to the surfboard.
I shouldn’t even care—it’s not like we’re close friends or anything.
It’s just that… I don’t like bullies. I’ve spent my entire life with my father, so yeah, I don’t like bullies and I don’t like the people who enable them.
And now, I can’t help but wonder who Jordan has really been sneaking around with when she tells her mother that she’s with me.
“Not my problem,” I mutter under my breath and click Ignore on the call. I shove the phone back into my pocket.
A gust of wind rattles the leaves in the trees. I glance around, still uneasy, and then look up at the hotel. Noa and her friends have been inside for a while. Not that I’d want to switch places—I’m fine out here. The thought of stepping in that haunted-ass hotel creeps me out.
Then, behind one of the windows, I see a flash of movement.
For a split second, I literally think it’s a ghost.
When my brain finally makes sense of it, I recognize Noa inside. A second later, the others appear beside her. They seem to be talking, looking around.
Relief loosens the tension in my chest, and I laugh at myself. My eyes are playing tricks on me out here. I glance around again, uneasy. Although I should probably wait since I’m not part of their group, that doesn’t mean I’m not invested. I want them to win. I want to be with them.
I walk to the trellis and grip the rusted bar.
I yank a few times, testing its strength.
It holds. Barely. I start up the trellis, moving slow, wincing at every creak of the metal.
My pulse hammers as I climb, the ground way too far below for comfort.
But somehow, I make it to the second story, climbing through the broken window.
My sneakers crunch on the broken glass as I step into the room.
There’s an open suitcase on the bed with several pieces of clothing hanging out of it, like it’s been rummaged through.
Which is unsettling, considering this room is moldy and rotten—the smell alone is terrible.
The suitcase is a sign of life in an otherwise dead space.
I follow the sound of voices into the hall. A door is ajar at the end, and I make my way there. Before I can reach it, I hear what sounds like a motor. Quickly, I try the closest room door. It opens, and I dash to peer out the window.
Driving very slowly past my boat is a Sealine T50—a hell of a ride to take into the marshes. There are two guys aboard, but their faces are obscured by the hanging branches. I hold my breath, waiting to see if they’ll dock. They don’t. They pass by and move farther down the shoreline.
But my gut says they knew this place was here—again, why take a boat like that into the marsh if you didn’t already know what you were looking for? They’re probably going to turn around and come back.
I rush from the room, and push open the door at the end of the hall. It flies open, the handle lodging into the wall behind the entrance, and Noa yelps. The three Chasers stare at me in surprise.
Noa’s eyes are alarmed. “Jamie—”
“We got to go,” I cut her off, waving them toward me. “A boat just drove by.”
“What do you mean?” she asks, her voice sharp.
Tech doesn’t hesitate—he pulls open his backpack and begins stuffing in piles of old-looking papers. Shawn scrambles to help him.
“It was a nice boat,” I continue, breathless. “Seemed to slow—checking things out. I’m guessing they’re going to come back. Looked like there were two guys on board, and to me, it seemed like they knew this place was here.”
Shawn curses under her breath, and exchanges a worried look with Noa. Tech grabs a few more things to put in the bag.
“And what is all that?” I ask him.
“I don’t know yet,” he says. “Random papers from the rooms, notes, receipts—whatever I can find. There’s got to be a clue here somewhere. If they weren’t using aliases, maybe we can track one of these guests down and get some answers from them. A few might still be in Cape Hope.”
Noa crosses to the nightstand, reaching into an open drawer. “I did find a photo,” she says, holding up a Polaroid for us to see.
It’s a picture of a beautiful lady standing with a guy who looked like a total douchebag. The colors of the photo are faded from decades in the drawer.
Tech’s breath catches, and he snatches the Polaroid out of Noa’s hands. As his eyes dart over the picture, his expression shifts from surprise to recognition.
“Where did you find this?” he asks. “In this room?”
Noa nods, suddenly uneasy. “Yeah. Right here.” She motions to the nightstand. “Why? Who is she?”
Tech swallows. “This is…” He taps the woman’s face. “This is Florence Marsten. This was her room.”
Noa puts her hand over her heart, while Shawn looks around as if they’ve just recited a conjuring spell.
“Isn’t that the woman who died?” I ask, earning a sharp look from Shawn, as if warning me not to say it out loud. Just as I’m about to tell her not to worry about ghosts, there is a lapping sound from the hallway—like something moving through water.
I freeze, we all do, and turn toward the door. Sounds like swimming, something gliding over water. Or… it’s the sound of a dead socialite, climbing out of her watery grave to come up here and take our souls.
“We need to go,” I say immediately. I grab Noa’s hand, pulling her fast toward the hallway.
Shawn and Tech don’t argue. They gather more papers from the drawer to put in the backpack, their hands shaking as we dash past them.
“Jamie—” Noa tries to argue.
I don’t stop. I pull Noa into the hall and along the railing, the only thing separating us from the still, black water below. As we make our way toward the trellis, she tugs on my hand and stops.
“What is that sound?” she whispers as she darts her eyes around at the rooms. The closed doors.
My footsteps slow, my heart pounding. I move to the railing, clutching the wood banister as I look down. When I do, my breath catches.
Something is indeed moving down there. A ripple slices through the swamp water, long and dark, slithering just beneath the surface. Noa stiffens beside me, eyes locked on the shifting form.
“Gator?” she whispers.
I swallow. Maybe. Probably. It’s Florida—Everglades territory. But the thing moves too fluidly, like it’s barely breaking the surface. Graceful. Ghostly.
A moment later, the creature does a somersault before its head pops up. It’s a manatee—chubby and dog faced. It glides on its back before disappearing under the water again.
I let out a relieved groan, while Noa laughs softly under her breath, shaking her head.
“Damn,” she says. “For a second, I thought it was…”
She pauses, but I know exactly what she was thinking.
“Florence Marsten,” I murmur.
Noa shudders. “Yeah,” she agrees quietly.
Thing is, that possibility doesn’t seem gone yet either. The hotel feels colder now. The air denser. It’s like the walls are closing in on us.
We step back from the railing just as Tech and Shawn come racing out, colliding with us. Noa yelps, steadying herself before falling while I stagger back a few steps. Tech looks between us, annoyed.
“What are you doing out here?” he says. “You were the one who wanted to—”
The sound of voices from just outside the building echoes toward us. We freeze, looking around at one another as we listen. My heart is racing again. Is it considered breaking and entering if the building is abandoned? Are these guys here to do the same? Pretty sure I don’t want to find out.
I wave our group forward, and quickly, we dart back into the room with the broken window. We duck next to the exit. Tech lifts his head to peer outside toward the water.
“They dropped their anchor a little ways from your boat,” he says. “But I don’t see anyone out there. I think they’re trying to get inside. How many guys were there?” he asks me.
“Two,” I say. “When they get in the lobby, we should run for it. Do we have a clear path to my boat?”
“Yeah, I think so,” Tech says. But he looks as worried as I feel.
There might not be enough time to get there. We would all have to climb down the trellis; it wouldn’t be fast. If those guys step back outside, or hear us, we’d have to run for it. And it’s a long way to the water.
“We need to distract them,” I say, earning an annoyed look from Shawn.
“Sure, right,” she says. “How do we do that?”
“No idea,” I reply.
In the distance, there’s a loud bang and we all jump, crouching lower on the floor.
“Was that a gunshot?” Shawn whispers, wide-eyed.
“I think so,” Tech replies. He looks at me as if he’s considering my thought.