What on earth would she do instead with her night off? She started to move away from the window and then froze. She thought she saw some movement near the back of the yard, where several trees flanked the bush that hid the hole in the ground.
Was there somebody out there? Hiding behind the tree on the left and watching her? Was it Eric Baptiste? Had he been obsessed with Shelly and now had some sort of obsession with her?
She turned off the kitchen light and continued to watch the tree. Had she only imagined somebody out there? Was she just being paranoid?
The whistle from the copper teapot nearly sent her through the ceiling. She cast one more glance out the window and, still seeing nobody, she turned on the light and quickly moved the screeching teakettle off the burner.
Definitely paranoid, she told herself as she fixed her tea and then sat at the table to drink it. There was absolutely no reason to believe that she was somebody’s specific target. The attack in the tunnel just might have been a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
She finished her tea and went back to bed, where she finally fell into a deep sleep and dreamed of kissing Josh. When she awakened after noon the next day, her head was still filled with that kiss.
She spent Friday cooking and that evening had a meal of bourbon barbecue pork chops, cheesy corn and homemade biscuits with a touch of jalapeño peppers. She’d just finished eating when Josh called.
“I was wondering if you’d like a little company tonight,” he said.
She knew what he was trying to do, fill the hours of the night when she’d normally be anticipating a ghost walk. “That’s not necessary, Josh. I’m fine, and I’ll be fine through the night.”
“I just thought maybe...”
“Really, it isn’t necessary,” she said firmly. Dinner and done. That was what she had promised herself where he was concerned. “I’ve appreciated your support, Josh, but there’s really no need for you to be worried about me anymore.”
She could feel his disappointment even before he spoke. “Oh, okay then. You know I’ll be in touch if we get a break in the attack on you in the tunnel.”
“Thanks. Then I’ll see you around.” She hung up quickly, afraid that he might be able to talk her into letting him come over and hang out.
She spent the rest of the evening watching television and then at midnight headed to bed. She had to admit that there was a little bit of relief in not being able to pretend to be Shelly’s ghost anymore.
For the first time in a long time, she was eager to go to work on Saturday night. At quarter ’til eleven she got into her car and drove toward the inn. She was grateful to have something to do besides think about her dead sister and a very much alive deputy.
She knocked on the locked front door, and Dorothy Abbott, the older woman who worked the shift before hers, hurried to unlock the door.
“Gonna have a hard time keeping your eyes open tonight,” she said as she ushered Savannah inside. “Nobody is checked in. The place is quiet as a tomb.” She handed the keys to Savannah. “And now I’m out of here.”
The minute Dorothy was out of the door, Savannah relocked it and then headed for the reception desk and settled in for the long night.
She often wondered how Donnie Albright could keep the inn open with so few guests, but she assumed he must have family money and this place was just some sort of tax write-off for him.
She would never have managed to stay in her house if it hadn’t been paid off when her parents moved away. Unlike Josh, who had maintained a close relationship with his parents, Savannah rarely heard from hers.
When she did call them, the conversation was strained and uncomfortable. It was as if she was a reminder of things they’d rather forget, a reminder of the daughter they had lost.
It was the same way with her brother, Mac. Since his marriage they’d had little interaction, and when they did it was usually because he wanted to take something out of the house.
Savannah had never been close to Mac and she had come to terms with the desertion of her family, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. It only made her miss her sister more.
She pulled a notepad from the desk. It was a regular spiral notebook that she kept here to help her pass the long nights. She not only doodled mindlessly in it but also sometimes worked on recipes she’d like to try. She did this now, using the creative side of her brain to write down ingredients she thought might pair together well and then imagining how they might look on a plate.
The silence was broken only occasionally by thuds or thumps that she assumed were pipes expanding and contracting when the air conditioner turned on and off.
It was just after three when she got up to use the lobby restroom. She washed her hands and then wiped her face with a cold cloth in hopes of getting a second wind. She’d only been here four hours and already felt exhausted by doing nothing.
She stared at her reflection in the mirror over the sink and remembered that darned kiss from Josh. There was no question that he had been attempting to pursue something romantic with her. But she’d made it clear to him last night that she wasn’t buying what he was selling.
She just wasn’t ready to reenter life. There was still too much grief in her heart to allow in any other emotions. The problem was, Josh’s kiss had shown her how to feel again.
Irritated that she was obsessing about a man she wouldn’t invite into her life, she left the bathroom and returned to her chair behind the desk.
She’d just sat down when the lights went out, plunging the inn into utter darkness.
Chapter Seven
Savannah remained frozen. This had never happened before. Had a fuse blown? She was sure the electrical wiring in the building was probably ancient, but she didn’t even know where the fuse box was located.
She imagined it was someplace in the basement, but she didn’t like to go down there. It was slightly dank and filled with supplies in boxes stacked with no rhyme or reason. Besides, the basement door was located in Donnie’s private office.
Even if she found her way to the fuse box in the dark, she wouldn’t know what to do when she got there. She knew nothing about electrical issues.
She was just about to reach for the phone to call Donnie when she heard a thump...thump...thump coming down the hallway upstairs. If she’d believed in ghosts, she would have assumed it was the spirit of old Peg Leg walking the hall.
But she didn’t believe in ghosts. Whoever it was making the noise was very much human, and starting down the stairs.
“Hello? Who’s there?” she asked.
There was no reply, but she could hear the person continuing down the stairs. If it was somebody not to fear, then why hadn’t that somebody answered her?
Her heart banged in terror as she slid from her chair and beneath the desk. Who was in here? How had they gotten inside?
Was it possible somebody had sneaked in earlier in the day and had hidden in one of the guest rooms for this moment when she would be here all alone?
“Savannah.” The sibilant, gruff, male whisper shot a new tremor of terror through her.
He knew her name. Whoever it was knew she was here, and he obviously wasn’t interested in checking into a room for the night. The thumping stopped, and she had a feeling whoever it was had reached the bottom of the staircase.
“You bitch.” The voice was guttural and impossible for her to identify. But one thing was clear...whoever he was, he was angry and she was in trouble.
She was a sitting duck under the desk. If he approached any closer she would have no way to escape, nowhere to run or hide.
At the moment the darkness was her friend. She had to assume if she couldn’t see him, then he couldn’t see her, either. Without making a sound, she scooted out from under the desk and headed in the direction of a large potted plant.
There were several plants in the lobby with pots large enough for her to crouch behind. Her mind raced with options as she headed toward the closest pla
nt.
She’d just reached the pot when a loud crash came from the direction of the chair she’d been seated in when the lights had first gone out.
She slammed a fist against her mouth in an effort to staunch the scream that begged to be released. She wondered if the noise she had heard when he’d walked across the upstairs had been a baseball bat or some other length of wood that he’d now used to slam into her chair.
Silence.
It was the ominous silence that occurred before an explosion, the proverbial calm before the storm. She tried to make herself as small as possible behind the planter and at the same time listened for any whisper of a sound that would let her know his location.
All of her senses were on fire as terror continued to beat her heart a million miles a minute. Was he close enough to hear her heart? Was he near enough to smell her perfume?
She couldn’t smell him. She had no sense of anyone next to her or hovering nearby her. But the darkness of the room made her doubt her ability to sense anything correctly.
“Savannah, you can’t hide from me forever.” A small flashlight clicked on.
Although the beam of the light let her know he was across the lobby from her, it also shot her terror up a hundred notches. With that flashlight he could hunt her down.
He stood near the sitting area, but his beam of light shot back toward the desk, as if double-checking to make sure he hadn’t missed her there.
She couldn’t see him in any detail with the light he flashed before him. She couldn’t even get a real sense of his height or weight.
Her mind whirled frantically. She couldn’t slip into the bathroom. There were no windows, and eventually she’d be trapped in the two-stall room. Her cell phone was in her purse under the desk, so she couldn’t call anyone for help. She couldn’t even run for the door because it was locked and the keys were in the desk drawer.
The beam of light shone on the opposite side of the lobby, indicating to her that he was methodically checking anywhere that might be a hiding place.
Eventually he’d begin to work this side of the room, and she knew that if he found her, she would never leave the lobby alive. Why? What was this all about? Despite her fear, her brain worked to try to come up with a reason for this happening.
Twice he’d called her by name, making her certain that this wasn’t just a random act of violence but rather a targeted attack on her.
She couldn’t stay behind the plant pot forever. It was only a matter of minutes before he’d move to this side of the lobby and his light found her.
The effort to keep her screams inside was monumental. If she made any noise at all, he’d get her. She jumped as a crash of pottery splintered the silence.
“I’m going to find you, and you’re going to pay for screwing things up.” Unbridled rage filled the voice that she somehow knew she should be able to identify, but couldn’t.
She was frozen with fear but knew she had to move and move fast. The question was, where? Where could she go where he’d never find her?
Should she try to double back to the desk, where he’d already searched? Could she silently follow him, staying behind where he was heading?
At seven Donnie would be arriving for the day, but that was still hours away. Her chest constricted, and for a moment she thought she couldn’t breathe.
Think, her brain commanded. She had to do something before he found her and smashed her skull in with whatever weapon he wielded. The treasure chest! She was tall. She could reach the side and pull herself in. She could bury herself among the oversized jewels and maybe...just maybe he wouldn’t think of looking for her in there.
The problem was, in order to reach the treasure chest she’d have to leave her hiding spot and creep across a large open area, where she would be exposed.
Die here behind the plant or die in the middle of the lobby floor? At least if she tried to get to the treasure chest, she’d know she’d done something in an attempt to stay alive.
Holding her breath, she scooted on her butt out from behind the planter, careful not to make any noise that would draw attention.
As the flashlight beam shot across the other side of the lobby, she could see a faint glimpse of the person holding the light. Unfortunately, the person was dressed all in black and had on a ski mask, making him bleed into the surrounding darkness. She couldn’t even begin to identify him.
She continued at a snail’s pace across the floor, praying that his light wouldn’t find her, that she wouldn’t make a sound that would draw his attention.
There was another crash and the splintering sound of pottery shattering. He’d apparently smashed another plant pot. His destructive rage terrified her.
She finally made it to the side of the treasure chest where she could no longer see him, which meant he couldn’t see her. If she climbed into the structure, would he find her there? If he did, she was aware that she was placing herself in a spot where there would be no escape.
She had no other choice. Within minutes or even seconds she would be out of options. She slid up to her feet and turned to grasp the top of the treasure chest.
Praying that she didn’t grunt or groan, that she had the strength to pull herself up and into the chest, she drew a deep breath for courage and then pulled herself up.
The chest was filled with papier-mâché and Styrofoam rubies and emeralds, diamonds and coins. She managed to get into the chest and then burrowed down amid the fake jewels. She was grateful that when she buried herself, her attacker smashed another pot, hiding whatever sound she made as she covered herself with the large baubles.
“When I find you, I’m going to smash your head in,” he growled.
She fought against a shiver and once again placed a hand over her mouth to staunch her need to cry, to scream out loud in horror. Why? Who was this man who wanted her dead, and what was his reason?
What time was it? How long would he carry on this attack? Aside from the abject terror that blazed through her, she felt claustrophobic as she burrowed deeper toward the bottom of the chest each time the intruder smashed something else.
A scream nearly released from her as he slammed whatever he carried on the top of the jewels above her head. The crunch of Styrofoam and papier-mâché made her heart stop. Thankfully she was deep enough in the chest that she didn’t feel any real impact.
He cursed and screamed and Savannah remained still, praying for dawn. Even when he no longer made any noise and silence reigned, she remained where she was, afraid that he was still someplace in the lobby just waiting for her to show herself.
Time ticked by in agonizing seconds, in long, tormenting minutes. Savannah remained unmoving, afraid that even a deep breath might unsettle the “jewels” around her and give away her position.
Despite her fear, as time ticked by she must have eventually fallen asleep, for the next voice she heard was Donnie’s. “What in the hell happened in here? Savannah...Savannah, are you okay? Are you here?”
“I’m here,” she replied, and as she dug herself out of the items around her, she saw the light of day drifting through the windows. She’d survived the horrible night, but the sight of daylight did nothing to ease the horror that still shot through her.
The tears she’d held in for what felt like a lifetime began to choke out of her as she fought her way to the top of the treasure chest and then climbed out and dropped to the floor.
Donnie ran to her, his wrinkled face and bushy salt-and-pepper eyebrows the most beautiful things she’d ever seen. He wrapped her in his arms. “Are you okay?” He looked around in shock. She followed his gaze and saw the damage that had been done in the darkness of the night.
“I’m sorry, Donnie,” she cried. “I’m so sorry. Somebody got in here last night and tried to attack me. I’m so sorry about all the destruction.”
“Hush,” he said. “They’re just things. They can easily be replaced. Are you sure you’re okay?” He released his hold on her.
“No, I�
��m not okay,” she replied with a barely suppressed sob. “I’m not okay at all. Please call Deputy Josh Griffin.” She sank down to a sitting position with her back against the chest, shaking uncontrollably as she tried to process the night she’d just spent.
Donnie made the call to Josh, and Savannah remained where she was seated. At the moment all she wanted was Josh’s arms around her. All she needed was the safety and security she knew she’d find there.
* * *
JOSH WAS JUST getting off duty when he got the call from Donnie telling him to get to the inn because something bad had happened overnight.
Donnie didn’t waste time giving details, and Josh didn’t waste time asking. All he knew was that Savannah had worked her shift last night, and the fact that anything bad had happened at the inn chilled his blood.
As he drove from his location toward the inn, he cursed himself for not asking questions. What exactly had happened? Was Savannah okay? Surely if she were seriously hurt Donnie would have called for an ambulance rather than calling him.
He stomped on the gas and wondered if he should call Trey or if Donnie had already done so. It didn’t matter. If Trey hadn’t been called, then Josh would assess the situation and decide whether the sheriff needed to be brought in.
He spun into the parking lot and saw only two vehicles, Savannah’s navy sedan and Donnie’s bright yellow pickup, indicating that there had probably been no overnight guests.
He parked and was out of the car in a shot. Donnie stood at the front door and opened it for him. The first thing that struck Josh was the utter devastation of the lobby. Pots were smashed, plants were overturned and even the coffee table in between the two sofas had a crack down the center.
The wooden chair behind the reception desk was in pieces, and his heart nearly stopped beating as he tried to process the destruction.
He took all this in in an instant. Then he saw Savannah seated by the huge gold treasure chest. The minute her gaze met his, she burst into tears, stumbled to her feet and raced into his arms.
“Are you all right?” he asked. He held her tight as she sobbed into the front of his shirt. What in the hell had happened in here? Who was responsible for all of this?
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