“It could also be, of course,” he added, “that she didn’t stay here, but… I don’t know. When I’ve questioned people, there’s something about them. They don’t quite look me in the eye when they answer. As a cop you’re kinda sensitive to these things. I get the impression somebody does know something, but no one wants to say.”
“Surely there are electronic records you could access?”
“It’s a grey area in the USA. Hotels don’t like to share guest information with the police, unless a warrant is shown. Even then, it’s difficult to enforce. The argument is that it violates a person’s right to privacy and, in some ways, I agree. Basically, hotels don’t have to keep electronic records for more than twelve months, and guess what?”
“You’ve already said it. Helen disappeared over a year ago.”
“That’s right. There’s every chance that any record of her staying here has been erased. There’s a room behind Raquel – an office. She mainly keeps the door closed but I figured that’s where the computer is, the phone, even the register from the lobby desk, in there at night, locked up.”
Caroline’s eyes widened. “And so what did you do, break in?”
“’Fraid so.”
“I’m taking it you’ve already questioned Raquel about Helen?”
“In a roundabout way, and it was the same old same old: no knowledge of her at all.”
“Have you actually told her you’re a private investigator?”
He shook his head. “At the moment I’m playing the part of a concerned uncle. You’re the first person I’ve told.”
“Okay, I’m confused again. I get why you kept it from me, I’m not part of the investigation, but technically the others are, so surely you have a duty to inform them?”
“Caroline, just like people aren’t too fond of the cops, they’re not overly enamoured of PIs either. Like I said, initially it’s just easier to pretend you’re someone else, especially if we’re stuck here. If firm evidence comes to light, well… that’s when I up the ante.”
She looked at him. “You’re a fine actor.”
“So, you bought that I was a travelling salesman?”
“Actually no I didn’t, you don’t fit the mould.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“I like you as a PI better.”
He smiled.
“So, you broke into the office, Raquel finally having left the desk unmanned. Then what?”
He answered her question with one of his own. “Caroline, what happened when you checked in? Did you see what was in that register that Raquel’s always busy with?”
“No, it was under the shelf of the desk. I handed over my credit card and filled in a sheet of paper with my name and address and car registration. Raquel took it all to the back office, then came back with my credit card and handed me my room key.”
“Yep, me too.”
She was as baffled as him. “What are you getting at?”
“What I’m getting at is this: I found something odd in that back room, or rather I didn’t find anything much at all. There was no computer in there, not even a phone. Sure Raquel could have used her cell to call 911, but to not have a landline, in a hotel? It’s impossible.”
“But there’s a phone number for The Egress, have you tried it?”
“Yes, I have.”
“And?”
“And it’s disconnected.”
She searched for a reason. “The phone lines could be down due to the storm.”
“Again, that’s what I figured. But none of this is adding up.”
“What about the register?”
“Oh, that was there alright.”
“David?” Caroline prompted when he faltered again.
“It was laid open on the desk – right in plain sight – and it was empty, nothing written in it at all. Every damn page was blank.”
“Blank? But we’ve seen her scribble in it!”
“We think we’ve seen her scribble in it. What’s in the office could be a dummy register, some strange kind of security measure, but again, why? What are they trying to hide?” He shook his head. “I don’t know, it was almost as if someone knew I was going to break in, got there before me and removed anything of use. This place, it’s not what it seems.”
Which is why he hadn’t dismissed what had happened to her in the elevator, or put it down to hysteria.
“There have to be bona fide records,” David continued, “and I need to see them, but I can’t demand to see them, unless I get a warrant. And I can’t get a warrant because of—”
“The weather.”
“Yep, and the fact that I’m not a cop. I have to work with the cops to get one.”
An idea formed. “What about Althea?”
“I’ve told you, I’ve tried to speak to her, several times. The timing’s never right, according to Jenna anyway. She’s tired, she’s having a nap, or she doesn’t feel well. Come back later, Jenna says, and I do, only to get the same response, over and over.”
“Will you tell her you’re a PI?”
“If I get the opportunity.”
“Then let me try for you,” Caroline responded. “I’ll pave the way.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Morning arrived and with it would come change. For better or for worse, Caroline had yet to discover.
The first thing she did on leaving her bed was to pad over to the window and look out of it; something of a ritual now. Whilst she stared outwards at a sky with even more blue in it than before, David turned on the TV. The signal was weaker than ever, despite the worst of the storm being over. The picture kept rolling and the presenter’s voice cut out, but on CNN the warning was still clear: don’t travel unless you have to, not yet.
Taking the stairs down to breakfast, at which Althea, Edward, and Tallula were absent, she and David hatched a plan. Caroline would go to Althea’s room later that morning and try to speak with her, taking with her the photo of Helen Ansell.
“What about the architect’s daughter?” Caroline mused. “Surely she’d know about her?”
“She might not know the truth,” David pointed out, “just the legend. I know she said she’s been here from the beginning, but her death and the death of the second architect happened while The Egress was still a building site. No one would have lived here during that time. Besides, Helen is our priority and finding out the truth surrounding her.”
Although Caroline agreed, her mind couldn’t help but return to the teen. In the cold light of day it was tempting to think she’d imagined what she’d seen in the elevator. The result of stress, perhaps. But as much as she’d like to think that, she knew it wasn’t true. The architect’s daughter had truly existed. What was her name? She must have one – this ghost of a girl, as trapped as any of them.
After breakfast, they’d convened with John and Marilyn on their way out to the lobby, John complaining about the TV signal. “My radio’s not working either, there’s too much static. And have you noticed the lights? They’re working but they’re dimmer somehow.”
He was right – the shadows around them, even in the lobby, were on the increase.
“When do you think the roads will be clear?” asked Marilyn, concern on her face but also something else – the beginnings of fear. John’s agitation was worsening too, those shakes of his really quite persistent. Neither of them had ever mentioned anything to Caroline about the teen in the elevator, only Tallula seemed to know of her existence. She decided not to add to their apprehension by even hinting at what she’d experienced. The last thing she wanted was to plant the girl in their minds too, lest she start to take root.
In answer to Marilyn’s question, Caroline replied, “Not long now, in a day or two.”
“That’s what I thought. It’ll be strange, won’t it, leaving here? Some things you can never get used to, but other things… well, you get used to them quite quickly really, don’t you? Erm… what about Edward? Has anyone seen him this morning?”
>
Both David and Caroline shook their heads.
“I wonder where he is?” she mused. “And Althea too. I’d like to clear a few things up.”
“Like what?” Caroline asked.
“Like… um… payment for my room. I only intended on being here a couple of days, not five. I… I don’t have much money to spare, you see. Not since…”
It was John who challenged this notion. “They won’t charge, I’m sure of it. It wasn’t our fault we got stranded. If they’re decent folk they won’t charge.”
Strangely, this didn’t seem to appease Marilyn. “But we have to pay something, don’t you see? That’s what I’m worried about. We don’t just… get away with it.”
Again Caroline glanced at David, confused by her insistence. John, however, hung his head, but not before she saw his eyes glisten. Had Marilyn’s words upset him?
“John,” Caroline ventured. When he didn’t answer, she touched his arm. “John.”
He flinched, as though her fingertips were red-hot pokers. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I… I need to go to my room. I’m so very sorry.”
As he turned towards the elevator, all three stared. Turning to Marilyn, Caroline thought she looked slightly glazed. “Are you okay?”
“Okay?” she repeated, the word clearly not registering. One hand came up to scratch almost viciously at her neck. “I’m going to my room too. I’m… I’m happier there.”
Following in John’s wake, she also left.
David ran a hand through his hair. “What just happened?”
“You tell me.”
“I wish I could.” Nodding towards the lobby desk, where Raquel was once more standing like a sentinel, he added, “Look, she’s writing something in the register.”
“We think she is. She could be doing a crossword.”
David was having none of it. “There’s no crossword, there’s no magazine, and there’s no novel of any kind. The only thing in front of her is an old fashioned hotel register.”
One replaced at night with a dummy in case of prying eyes.
“I suppose we’d better press on,” David said, sighing, “try our luck with Althea.”
“Yeah,” she replied, “but please, can we do one thing first? I’m desperate.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Breakfast given you an appetite, has it?”
“What?” Confused at first, she then burst out laughing. “Oh, David, no, I don’t mean that! I just want some fresh air, that’s all. It feels like it’s been so long.” As she said it she realised it had been a long time – this was their fifth day, during which time they’d been out only twice. She was craving the fresh air; she’d fill her lungs with the stuff.
Reaching the hotel doors, the snow had banked higher, making opening them trickier than ever.
“Geez, you think the maintenance men would have seen to this,” David complained.
“What maintenance men?”
“Yeah, good point. This place operates with a skeleton crew.”
“And yet there are two managers.”
David looked at her. “It does seem like overkill, doesn’t it?”
As he resumed his effort with the doors, Caroline asked him how long he’d originally intended to stay at The Egress.
“A day or two, just to gather information.”
“And if you had reasonable grounds for suspicion, you’d ask for a warrant to be issued?”
“Uh-huh. And if nothing comes of that, well… that’s where Helen could be.” He took a break to stare outwards. “Out there somewhere, buried deep.”
He could be right, but the point is, she was intending to go to a hotel, now looking likely to be here, accompanied by a man; someone older than her, someone with blond hair. Her spine tingled remembering that.
At last the doors opened.
“We don’t have our coats with us,” David noted as cold air swept in.
“We won’t be long,” she assured him.
It wasn’t as reviving as she thought it would be, the air neither fresh nor crisp, but bitter; an invisible thief that stole her breath. It was colder too, she was sure of it, the snow as solid as ever, the thaw that was promised less than evident. Wrapping her arms around herself, she shook her head and stamped her feet to keep the circulation flowing.
“Hard to imagine it ever being clear again, isn’t it?”
David was right. It was. Harder still to imagine a world in colour; it had been white for so long. She had no idea what this place ordinarily looked like. Although they could see further than when they’d been out here with Elspeth, the horizon was still a blur, the white sky with its intermittent patches of blue melding only too readily with the landscape. She found the lack of contrast disorientating; the world having shrunk around them, she, David, and The Egress, figures in a giant snow globe, with what lay beyond uncharted.
Instead of adjusting to the conditions, her breathing became more laboured. Turning to check on David, she saw his chest was heaving too.
“We’d better go in,” she said, admitting defeat.
“Sure.”
“And I’ll head upstairs to see Althea.”
He nodded. “While you do that, I’ll wander over to Raquel’s desk, lean in as close as I dare, see if I can work out what she’s written in that book before she slams it shut on me.”
“Good luck with that.”
“Thanks, I think I’m gonna need it. Good luck to you too.”
Exchanging a quick smile, they faced the hotel doors, Caroline actually looking forward to getting back inside. Outside it was just too damned… hostile.
You have to leave at some point, Caroline.
She knew that, of course she did, but not today, not this morning.
This morning she had other things to do.
* * *
Leaving David, Caroline tackled the stairs again, not quite as out of puff when she reached the top, as she’d been the first time she’d tackled them. Her stamina might be improving, but that was the only positive. Her headache had returned, not a sharp pain like before, more a dull ache that had started the minute they’d closed the hotel doors behind them, and her jaw throbbed too where Elspeth had hit her. As for the cold she’d just experienced, it clung to her bones, her hands so stiff she could barely make a fist.
Outside Althea’s suite she paused to look down the corridor – the elevator that she’d grown so afraid of was idling behind closed doors. Turning to face 1110, she took a deep breath and knocked, waiting patiently for Jenna to answer. The seconds ticked by with no sign of movement from within. Repeating the process, she waited again, frustration beginning to kick in. Where could she be? Boldly, her hand reached out to grasp the handle instead. She pushed it downwards but it remained firm. Just as well really, she wasn’t a sneak. There was nothing for it but to return to her room and try again later. Perhaps Althea was taking an early lunch in the ballroom, having travelled in the elevator while she’d climbed the stairs. They’d probably missed each other by minutes.
Turning towards her room, she caught movement just up ahead and froze all over again. There was not one person but two and it was as if she was seeing them through a gauze curtain. They had their backs towards her and were drifting, Althea-style, towards the elevator. Something familiar about them made her wish she could see them more clearly. Who were they, and where had they come from? There were ten rooms on this floor. Elspeth had occupied one, Marilyn another, Tallula the room opposite her. As for John, she’d neither seen nor heard him on this floor but that didn’t mean he wasn’t on it. After herself and Althea, that left four rooms with occupants unaccounted for. Had this couple silently emerged from one of them? And where was this haze coming from? It put her in mind of John again, when he’d talked about the Southern heat and how it had shimmered. That’s what the figures ahead of her seemed to be doing – shimmering.
Forcing life into her legs, she drew closer.
The haze didn’t lift and neither did she mana
ge to close the gap between them, the corridor stretching as if it were a rubber band being pulled at both ends. Determined, she picked up her pace. She had to identify these people. The woman’s hair was chestnut brown, such a rich shade, and the man looked tall and strong. Both were smartly dressed, as if for a day out, another thing that didn’t make sense. Did they really think they could leave here? The man turned his head slightly as if addressing the woman by his side. Caroline squinted. That profile… there was something about it. The woman laughed and that’s when her blood ran cold. It was a tinkling laugh, familiar too – her mother’s laugh.
Mum, Dad, is that you?
All reason forgotten, she broke into a run. It was them! Her mother and father, as young as they were when they first came here, in their early twenties, on honeymoon. They were on the eleventh floor, not the second, drifting towards… towards what?
“Mum! Dad!”
Neither of them acknowledged their daughter calling them.
“Mum, can you hear me? Dad!”
They were so happy, their hands entwined as her mother laughed again.
“Mum, please!”
Why couldn’t she close the gap between them?
“Dad!”
She longed to speak to them, to see their faces as she’d never seen them before; no hint of the illness that was waiting to consume them. They were bursting with vitality, and their love – a love that she’d always admired, envied if she were truthful – was tangible, something she could reach out and touch. If she could only get close enough.
“Mum!” Her voice cracked as realisation set in. They weren’t aware of her, they couldn’t hear her, and she was never going to reach them. They had substance but they were still shadows and around them other shadows began to materialise, not as substantial, and not as far away either.
She screamed in frustration. It wasn’t them she wanted to be close to.
Grabbing at her hair, she had to wonder, was she going mad? She felt as if she was. This hotel, with its strange inhabitants both real and unreal, was driving her to madness.
The Eleventh Floor Page 19
