The doors re-opened. As they did, she had to stifle a scream, one of frustration and surprise. Standing before her was the teen; the girl Tallula had called the architect’s daughter. Her head low, her features still very much obscured by her thick black hair, she entered the elevator, Caroline stepping aside to make room for her. Like last time, she turned her back on Caroline without any acknowledgement whatsoever, and faced outwards. Also like last time, she made no move to select the floor she wanted, causing Caroline annoyance as well as alarm. What was wrong with her? And what was she doing roaming about at this hour? Surely her parents wouldn’t condone such behaviour?
Realising it wasn’t fair to take her upset out on an innocent young girl, Caroline stepped closer to the keypad. “What floor would you like?” There was no answer. “I’m…erm… going to the lobby. Is that okay?” Still she got no answer. “Look, I just need to go to the lobby, have a quick look around, and then I can take you back to your floor. You know, I’m surprised you’re wandering about at this hour. I am, but, well, I’m an adult.”
The girl continued to ignore her, causing Caroline to roll her eyes in a Raquel-like fashion. Pressing the button, there was relief again when the elevator started to move, albeit groaning, finding the whole thing as much of an ordeal as she was. She’d better try again with the girl; she couldn’t just pretend she wasn’t there. “Hey, are you okay? Seriously, I really think that at this time of night you should be in your room…”
Her voice trailed away as she realised something. The girl was wearing the exact same clothes as when she’d first seen her. Slightly old-fashioned when she thought about it – the A-line plaid skirt that ended just above her knees, the lemon blouse, the long white socks, the black slip-ons. And there was a smell too, one with a familiar tinge to it…
She swallowed. They were almost at the lobby. She could just get out and forget about the architect’s daughter, leave her to her own devices. Or she could try harder.
Once again she reached out a hand, not to touch the keypad this time, but the girl’s shoulder. “Sweetheart, I’m a little bit worried…”
Her voice stuck in her throat; as if she were mute too, shock having rendered her speechless. The girl was frozen, absolutely frozen, and Caroline’s hand froze too upon contact. It stuck to the girl, making it impossible to pull away.
What’s going on? What the hell is going on?
Almost immediately images started to flash in her mind. The child – this child, smiling, laughing, and… teasing. Is that what she was doing, teasing? If so, whom? She couldn’t see anyone but the girl, walking down a corridor, one that had concrete on the floor instead of carpet, whose walls were concrete too, wires hanging where lights should be – a building site basically, barely formed – The Egress in its infancy. She had her back to Caroline, and was wearing exactly what she had on now, tossing her luxuriant hair over her shoulder, turning her face to the side to reveal a tantalising glimpse of red lips and skin that was marble white. She was pretty, Caroline guessed. Coquettish. A flirt.
Suddenly the girl laughed – not a particularly pleasing sound – it had too much Tallula in it. And as she did, the smell of decay grew more pungent.
The girl had stopped laughing now and was shaking her head, hair swishing from side to side. Caroline got the vivid impression she was pouting. The impression intensified as the girl stamped her foot – a display of petulance, anger even. Immature… but then so was the girl. She was young, a teenager trying to be a woman, running before she could walk.
The girl swung around. Frustratingly, so did Caroline’s vision, the girl still had her back to her, but there was another person, there had to be, the one that she was arguing with. Not just arguing, they were screaming at each other, the atmosphere changing, becoming tenser. The girl stiffened. Was she frightened, Caroline wondered? Had she lost control?
The girl took a step back, and then another. Caroline tensed too.
Be careful, she wanted to shout. Watch where you’re going.
The place was a building site. And building sites were dangerous.
There was a scream – the horror in it more than a match for Elspeth’s. No longer upright, petulant, or even defiant, the teenager was falling, hands grabbing frantically at thin air, her legs cycling madly as black hair formed a swirling mass around her. Falling and falling, when would it end? Her horror was Caroline’s horror – both of them caught in the grip of terror. How was this happening? How? Neither one could understand it. Impact – a sound to make you sick to your stomach. Young bones being smashed, blood quickly pooling, much brighter than her lipstick. And her face … such a pretty face, destroyed.
As the girl turned, Caroline’s hand was released and she snatched it back. Bringing it upwards, she covered her eyes.
I don’t want to see. Don’t show me, please. I’ve seen enough.
But the teen hadn’t listened to her before, so why should she this time?
As the elevator ground to a halt, having to force herself to do it, Caroline lowered her hand and slowly, slowly opened her eyes. Face up to your fears, Althea instructed. Well, this was one of them. In response, the girl lifted her head – finally – parting that thick, thick hair of hers as though it were a theatre curtain, preparing for the great reveal.
It wasn’t a face, not anymore, but a congealed mass of blood and bone. One eye was dangling from its socket, as though on a silken thread, the other pushed far into her skull, the pupil turned upwards, searching for something that was way beyond.
A travesty. An abomination. Surely she wasn’t real!
If she’d fallen, if she’d hit the ground, exactly where they were standing now, in the lobby of The Egress before the elevator was fitted, then she was dead; stone cold dead – not able to stand in front of Caroline, to show her a sight she’d never forget, one that would curdle every dream, haunt her even during waking hours.
If she’d fallen…
“Oh God, it wasn’t an accident, was it?”
As the screams erupted from deep within her, as the elevator doors finally released their quarry, as she started to back away from the thing she was entombed with – an apparition, a ghost, the architect’s daughter – as she stumbled and fell, was caught in someone’s arms, someone with the strength that had deserted her, she realised the truth.
The girl had been pushed!
Chapter Twenty-One
How David managed to get her back to her room, Caroline didn’t know. Her mind, her entire body, was rigid, as though she were dead too and rigor mortis had set in. They hadn’t taken the elevator. There was no way she’d set foot in it again. She would have continued screaming blue murder if he’d insisted. He must have half-carried her, half dragged her up the stairwell, not taking her to his room – she wouldn’t go there either, he seemed to instinctively know that – but all the way to the eleventh floor, to her room, 1106.
She wasn’t screaming any longer, or gibbering. Instead her breath was coming in short sharp gasps that were rendering it impossible to speak. The miracle was that she was breathing at all. That her heart hadn’t given out after what she’d witnessed.
“But what did you see?” David had bundled her into her room, closed the door, and sat her on the sofa, kneeling in front of her with both hands on her shoulders.
“I… I…” Words kept failing her. How could she describe what she’d seen? Who would believe her? She looked into his eyes. He’d believe her. David would know she wasn’t capable of making such a diabolical thing up. She had to try again. But first the tears came, her body needing to purge itself.
“It’s okay, I’m here now,” he said, pulling her to him. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
She wanted with all her heart to believe him. She did believe him, but once the floodgates had opened the torrent wouldn’t cease. Tears shed not only because of what had just happened, but also for her parents; for their love and their life together coming to such a painful and undignified end; and for
her own loneliness. Because she now realised that’s what she’d been before meeting David – lonely, despite how hard she tried to deny it. Eventually, the river ran dry, leaving in its wake, not terror, not anymore, but peace, acceptance even – the last thing she’d expected after what had happened.
“David, that teen I met in the elevator on my first day here, she’s who I saw. The architect’s daughter.”
“The girl who fell.”
“What?” She hadn’t mentioned that part to him, so how come he knew? “David?”
“She fell down the elevator shaft when the hotel was being built, in the early 1920s. She was, as you say, the architect’s daughter. He never got over it according to what I’ve read. Never returned to finish the job. Another architect was appointed instead, but he died here too – but it wasn’t an accident this time. He was found beaten to death.”
“Beaten? By who?”
“It was never confirmed but the rumour was he was a betting man. There was a dispute about what he owed and that someone must have snuck on site while he was here alone one day and… well…”
“So there were two murders when The Egress was being built?”
“Two? What do you mean?”
“David, the girl didn’t fall by accident, she was pushed.”
“Pushed? But—”
“How do you know so much about her, and about the replacement architect?”
Even in such a dim light, she could see his skin flush. “It’s… It’s all there, in the public domain, although I have to say, you gotta dig hard for it. Two tragic deaths before completion didn’t bode well for the hotel. You know how superstitious people are; the rumour was that the building was cursed even before it was finished. Because of that, the opening day was a failure, people avoiding the place rather than turning up in their droves as hoped.” He inclined his head slightly in that way he did when he was contemplating. “That could account for all those photos downstairs, the ones without any people – they’d gotten everything ready for the big day and, well, it was a disaster. That reputation dogged the hotel. It still does, I think, to this very day. I bet it barely scrapes by. As you already know, there were plans for other buildings in this area of Williamsfield, lining the road all the way into downtown, The Egress at its helm. It was supposed to breathe new life into the area, put it on the map as a commercial business hub, and a special place to come and stay, but of course that never happened. Investors lost faith, put their money elsewhere, diverted roads even, leaving it to…” He paused again, frowned slightly. “Well, to its own devices, I guess. What’s all this about the architect’s daughter being pushed?”
Caroline swallowed; she had to tell the truth. “I saw what happened to her, David. She showed me.” Without embellishing it in the slightest, she tried to explain. “She was flirting with someone, teasing them. Whoever it was, I don’t think he appreciated it. I never saw his face, never got a glimpse of it, but I began to sense anger on his part, because this kid, she was making a fool of him. He was hurt. I got that too. Perhaps he didn’t mean to push her, but she was threatening him… something about his wife and child, about getting Daddy to fire him. He lost his temper and lashed out. She fell backwards into the empty elevator shaft, into nothing…” Her heart beginning to race again, she had to take a deep breath to calm herself. “I felt her panic, David. Her terror, her sheer disbelief at what was happening. Those feelings, they’re so strong in her still, time hasn’t diluted them at all.”
“Poor kid,” David lamented, and for a moment Caroline was stunned – but in a way that impressed rather than horrified her further. Here they were, the pair of them, feeling sorry for the abomination in the elevator, actually sorry for her. Because ultimately she was a teenage girl, she’d been pretty once, a tease as so many teenage girls are, seeing what she could get away with, testing the boundaries, playing with fire and getting burnt.
“Did anyone hear me screaming?” Caroline asked. She was stunned too that people hadn’t come running from all corners of the hotel, considering the racket she’d made.
David smiled for the first time since he’d found her. “You were terrified, understandably, but you didn’t scream the house down, you pulled yourself together quicker than most.”
“I’ve seen a ghost, David. I’ve actually seen a ghost! What’s she doing here? Why isn’t she at rest?”
“I don’t know… There’s a lot I’m trying to find out.”
“Find out? What do you mean? What else is there to discover?” For a moment he avoided her gaze. “David?”
He’d been squatting, but now he rose to sit by her, sighing heavily. “I’m sorry, I… I really did want to be truthful with you.”
Her whole body seized. What was he going to say? What else was there to tell? And when he did, would all that had happened before pale into insignificance because of it, even the teen in the elevator? This was what being frightened truly felt like, she realised; the prospect of a tattered heart being stamped on again. “Is this about her again?”
“Who? Melissa?”
“If that’s her name.”
He shook his head. “No, no, this has nothing to do with her. I meant what I said: you’re the one. As soon as we’re out of here, I’ll tell her what’s happened, I’ll end it.”
Relief started to filter through. “So what is it then?”
“It’s to do with my profession. I’m not a travelling salesman.”
“Oh.” She tried to process what he was saying. “So what are you?”
“A private investigator.”
“A private… Like in the movies?”
“The movies?” he queried.
“Yeah, I’ve seen so many American movies with private investigators in them. I… God, you’re a cop!”
“I used to be a cop. I left the force a few years ago to set up on my own.”
“Okay… so you’re a private investigator. Why lie about it?”
He hung his head. “It was just easier, I guess, and to an extent, confidential. I’m here because I think this hotel might be linked to a missing person’s case.”
“Who?”
“A woman called Helen Ansell. She went missing in this area just over a year ago.”
“Have you interviewed the staff?” She remembered hovering nearby whilst he was speaking to someone, also saying he was busy when she’d asked him to join her for coffee. She’d wondered at the time what was so pressing. Now she knew, partly, anyway.
In answer to her question he nodded. “Not that I’ve gotten very far. No one remembers seeing her.”
“Have you got a photo of her?”
“Yeah, here, it’s in my wallet.”
Retrieving his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans, he took the picture of Helen out and handed it to her. She was another pretty girl with a wide smile, her hair not quite the red of Elspeth’s, paler in colour, strawberry-blonde. “How old was she?”
“Twenty-one,” David replied. “Just barely.”
“What’s her connection with The Egress?”
“She was drinking in a bar in Williamsfield – The Cocked Hat – and, according to the bartender, she was getting cosy with a man, someone who was quite a bit older than her, in his late thirties or so with blond hair. It looked like they’d just met; certainly they’d arrived separately, Helen a good couple of hours earlier. She came up to the bar, he bought her a drink, and they went off to sit together. A little later they left and she sent her mother a text, just after ten, to say she was checking into a local hotel, that she’d be there for the next day or two, and she’d call her soon. We know the text was sent while she was at The Cocked Hat, or very close to it. That’s the last trace from her cell and also the place of her last credit transaction.”
“No mention of this man to her mother, then?”
“No, we got the description of him from the bartender.”
“Was she from around here?”
“No, again. She was from California, s
tudying in San Francisco. She was taking a year off, travelling, exploring the country she lived in. Her father had insisted on it apparently. She wanted to be a writer and he thought it would help her with that, give her the edge she needed. She’d done quite a bit of travelling before ending up in Williamsfield.”
“And it was this hotel she checked into?”
“That’s the thing, we don’t actually know. There are several in the town itself. Nothing like this though, they’re more basic, but no luck so far. What makes it harder is there’s been no credit card activity since the bar and no other hotels in the area have any record of her, which led me finally to here. This hotel’s the last on my list before I spread the net wider. Of course it could be that she never made it to any hotel.”
“You think she was murdered on the way?”
“She was on good terms with her parents, she’d kept in touch with them all through her travels, so to disappear like she did, is out of character. She’d always been a good kid apparently. Her mother… God, it’s awful to see how broken she is… her father too. They can’t move forward. Because there’s no body, because it’s just a missing persons case, and the police can’t spend any more time on it, there’s too much else to deal with. But Helen’s parents need closure, they need answers, and that’s what I’m trying to achieve.”
“Oh, David.” Caroline hung her head, trying to imagine what it was like to lose a child, and grateful that she couldn’t. “You’re such a good man.”
“I’m only doing my job.”
“I know, but you care, it’s obvious that you do, and that’s the difference. Not everyone who does your sort of work does. So… what were you doing in the lobby?”
His brow furrowed as he answered. “Like I said, no one’s been particularly helpful at The Egress, and for the simplest of reasons maybe, because no one does remember her. The staff, they see a lot of people come and go – faces become a blur as faces often do. It’s amazing how many people we don’t remember in life.”
Tallula had once said a similar thing. You come into contact with so many – hundreds upon hundreds – and yet only a few make an impact, for the best reasons and the worst.
The Eleventh Floor Page 18
