“Any word yet on the other evidence we’ve given you?” my father asked.
“Not yet. We should know something in another day or two.”
“Alright,” my father said, holding out his hand toward the detective. “Thanks for coming by, Detective. We appreciate it.”
“No problem.” Morgenstern grasped my father’s hand with a firm shake. “Whatever will help catch this guy. Luke,” he said, extending his hand toward me. “Sorry you had another scare tonight. But this may be enough now to justify posting a security detail at your house. So if anything good came from someone giving you this thing, it’s that you’ll probably go home soon.”
“That would be great,” I said, shaking his hand. I was expecting him to hold onto my hand longer than necessary, to look deep into my eyes and search for the truth. But he didn’t. He simply let go of my hand and turned toward his car parked a couple of spots down.
We stood there under the lamppost watching as Morgenstern backed out of the spot. My father put his hand on my shoulder and we walked toward the front of the hotel. I took a deep breath, bracing myself for a second line of questioning that surprisingly never came. It was an uneventful finish to a very eventful day, one that started so innocently at a coffee shop and had gone nowhere but downhill from there.
I dreaded finding out what tomorrow might have in store.
Chapter 26
I didn’t sleep at all and it wasn’t because of my father’s snoring in the next room. When my PTSD was in full swing a year ago, my nights were consumed with either chronic insomnia or nightmares. There was no in between. At least with the insomnia, I had coffee to help get me through the next day. So for that fact alone, I gladly traded the insomnia for the nightmares. My opinion since then hadn’t changed.
My life is enough of a nightmare, thank you.
I spent most of my overnight hours standing at my hotel room window, looking out over the rear parking lot. I wondered if Corwin Barnes was in one of the darkened cars parked below, hidden from view. Could he see me? If I waved, would he wave back from somewhere deep in the shadows? It was for that very reason that I kept the lights off in the room. I didn’t even turn on the television.
I also kept wondering how he was making all of these deliveries without me or anyone else catching a glimpse of him. Not that my parents, or Claire, or even Dallas, had any idea what Barnes looked like. But that didn’t even matter. They would have seen somebody leaving the notes and things for me, whether they recognized him or not. How long did he plan on dragging this out?
The end is near.
The words kept coming back to me, interrupting more casual thoughts.
It was just after 5:00 in the morning when I determined I couldn’t pace the floor in my room any longer. I was bored as hell, needing a change of scenery. Besides, it wasn’t too early to start the caffeine intake.
I pulled on a pair of jeans and my tennis shoes and crept out of the room, taking extra care to be quiet as I closed the door behind me.
In contrast to the darkened room, the hallway corridor was brightly lit, which was a shame. It only allowed a better look at the God-awful carpeting. With more colors running through it than a standard box of crayons, the fact that the design didn’t continue into the rooms was the best part about it. The corridor was quiet, though, as I made my way down to the elevators. I imagined everyone else in the building was sleeping soundly in their beds, and I had to admit to a little bit of jealousy. Imagine, being the focus of envy simply for being able to sleep.
It didn’t take long for the elevator to arrive. After an even shorter period of time travelling from the third floor to the first, the elevator car came to a halt with a slight shimmy and the sound of a bell. As soon as the doors slid open, the quiet I’d been experiencing for the last few hours was shattered.
Somewhere in the lobby, a television was turned up surprisingly loud for the early hour. From the intensity of the voices going back and forth, I knew right away that it was tuned to one of those twenty-four hour news channels my father could never get enough of. A highly polished floor led me toward it, and between the television and the bright lights, you would have thought it was the middle of the day.
The news anchors were debating the merits and drawbacks of a two-party system, even though nobody was listening. The seating area was completely empty. I looked over at the front desk, expecting to see a bored night attendant with elbows on the counter and head in his hands staring blindly at the screen from across the room. But no one was there, either. In fact, there was nobody anywhere. It was slightly eerie, yet thanks to the television, too chaotic to feel anywhere near alone.
When my focus turned to the breakfast area, I was thrilled to find that coffee had already been made. Steam rose up from the paper cup as I poured the rich, black liquid into it. I fought pretty hard not to think about what happened at the coffee shop less than a day before, but I wasn’t completely successful. I was, however, able to put it out of my mind enough to look forward to the cup I was about to drink.
But there was no creamer to be found. The little wicker caddie that usually held the different types of creamers sat empty beside the coffee pot. This posed a problem, and I could plainly feel my shoulders sag. Coffee without some type of creamer wasn’t something I cared for. Like burgers without cheese or oysters without a shit-ton of hot sauce.
I searched all through the breakfast area, even looking in a couple of cabinets. If there was creamer anywhere in the hotel, it was a heavily guarded secret. I didn’t know what time they started setting up for breakfast, but it didn’t look like it would be anytime soon, and I didn’t feel like waiting. The lack of both sleep and caffeine was starting to rev up the cranky in me. One without the other was fine, but having neither? That just wouldn’t do.
The sound of the bell on the front desk counter held its own against the television as I tamped on it twice. Someone had to be around somewhere, I was sure of it. Hotels don’t just run themselves. What if there was an emergency? After what should have been sufficient enough time for someone to come out from the back room, I tapped on the bell again.
“Hello?”
Another thirty seconds or so passed without anyone coming out. The television was showing commercials now, and it seemed to be even louder than it had been. Giving up on the front desk clerk, I headed back to the breakfast area. Swiping the cup of black coffee from the counter, I tossed it straight into a nearby trashcan.
The hotel’s sliding glass doors beckoned me, and I heeded their call. Standing there looking out into the parking lot, I was trying to decide if it was worth it to leave and get a cup of gas station java. It was a close competition, but my quest for coffee won out. But as I took a step toward the doors, my need for caffeine became the furthest thing from my mind. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. The cool air hit me as the doors slid open and I steadily walked out of the hotel.
Chapter 27
I cautiously approached the white van parked in the spot beside my truck. I had been parking in the rear lot so that I could keep an eye on it from my rear-facing room, but I’d left the truck out front after our meeting with Morgenstern. And now the van slept right beside it. The floodlight illuminated the van’s interior so that even from the hotel lobby, I could see there was no one behind the wheel. My pace slowed as I drew nearer, but I didn’t stop until I could reach out and touch the driver’s side door. A chill ran through me before I could even determine if it was warranted.
I didn’t know if the doors were locked, but I let them be anyway. For all I knew, the van had an alarm system, and the last thing I needed was to draw that much attention. Besides, I couldn’t be absolutely sure this was the same van that had followed me, Barnes’ van. I could just imagine some guy coming out with muscles barely contained by his Joe’s Plumbing t-shirt, pissed not only that I was trying to get inside his work van, but that I’d been so rude as to have woken him. Ignoring the door handle, I placed my hands around my eye
s and leaned against the window.
Empty Pepsi and Mountain Dew cans littered the passenger side floorboard. Covering the passenger seat and center console were wrappers from various brands of energy bars. I stopped counting at three. With all the trash, there was no place for a passenger to sit, so whoever drove the van worked alone. I tried to look deeper into the van, but little was visible beyond the seats. The light coming through the windshield only penetrated so far.
Shooting a glance back toward the front of the hotel, I fought the urge to run and get my father. It seemed premature. There were at least a thousand white cargo vans in a city this size. Still, it definitely looked like the one that had been following me. Coincidence? Hopefully, time would tell. I turned and walked to the rear of the van.
Each rear door had a window, but the way the van was positioned, the panes pointed away from the overhead light. Still, I could see into the back a little. A beat up black toolbox sat near the back door with a pair of kneepads on top. They looked like the ones my father had used when we laid new tile in the kitchen of our old house. Next to the toolbox, a lumpy roll of grey carpeting ran most of the length of the van. The van must belong to a carpet layer because nothing about it looked threatening.
But all that changed as soon as I got around to the passenger side.
Looking in through the window, the first thing I noticed was a clipboard. It stood upright in the space between the seats and held a sizeable stack of paper. The top half of it was clear as could be thanks to the light coming through the windshield.
The paper on top was a map. A simplistically drawn map. I squinted to make out the details, then realized it wasn’t a map after all. Maps don’t show elevator shafts and stairwells. This was a floor plan.
I looked up at the hotel for a moment, then back at the floor plan. Over the last few days, I’d explored every square inch of the hotel out of sheer boredom. The visible section of the floor plan matched the easternmost part of the hotel, including the small workout room. The work van, the tools, carpeting and even the floor plan. It made perfect sense, really. The whole situation seemed completely logical.
That is, until I noticed the numbers written at the top of the page with a big red circle around them.
3227.
My stomach dropped. My jaw did likewise. There was no such thing as that much of a coincidence.
3227 wasn't just a room number. It was the room I had been sleeping in for the last five nights.
Chapter 28
I pressed the up button like a woodpecker going to town on a dead pine tree, as if it would somehow make the elevator move faster. The lobby and front desk were still a ghost town, and what was probably only a few seconds of waiting seemed like hours. The sheer act of standing there was costing time I didn’t have. I briefly considered using the stairs. But a darkened stairwell wasn’t exactly where I wanted to be at the moment. I slipped the option in my back pocket just in case the elevator took too much longer.
Where had it gone?
I’d just gotten off of it five minutes ago. It seemed weird that it wasn’t where I left it since there was still no one else around, but I didn’t waste too much time worrying about what that might mean. I had much bigger things on my mind.
I was reconsidering the stairs when the bell sounded overhead, and right on cue, the elevator doors split in the middle. Like the rest of the place, the elevator car was empty, and I walked right in.
I pressed the button for the third floor only once, but as soon as it lit up, I replayed my woodpecker impression on the “close doors” button. Slowly, they started sliding together. Very slowly. I held my breath, expecting a hand to reach in and stop the doors at the last second, but it didn’t happen. Once the doors had closed and the elevator started its ascent, I was finally able to let the air out of my lungs.
Like everything else over the last two minutes, the elevator ride took much longer than it should. Days longer than the ride down. Staring at the red digital number panel above the doors, I felt like I should be whistling or something. But my heart was beating too fast, and I thought it would have thrown off my tempo. So I just stood there in silence.
The red number finally changed from a one to a two. I started thinking about my parents sleeping in the room right next to mine. Claire wasn’t staying with us any longer, so the door that connected the rooms was being kept shut, despite my mother’s protests. She wanted it open, but I wouldn’t have it. I needed some privacy. We’d compromised and agreed to keep the door closed, but unlocked at all times. In hindsight, that may have been a bad idea. As it was, whoever had access to my room subsequently had access to theirs. All they had to do was turn a knob. This bothered me the most as I waited for the doors to open again.
When the red number finally changed to a three, I took a step forward and readied myself to exit the elevator. The doors had barely opened enough for me to squeeze through when I bolted.
I almost knocked her over, the older woman dressed in a light blue dress, white apron and hairnet. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be waiting to get in.
“Shit,” I said, holding her up by her frail arm. She was seventy if she was a day. “I’m really sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she said in a very startled voice. Her free hand went to her chest, and she was taking rapid breaths.
“Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” she said, but not until her breathing had slowed a bit. “Just scared me is all.”
“Again, I’m really, really sorry.”
She nodded her head and smiled weakly, but if she said anything at that point, I didn’t hear it. The hollow sound of a closing door echoed down the hall. It sounded like it came from down near my room, so I shot a quick glance in that direction. I didn’t see anyone, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. My heart was still thumping against my chest when my attention was brought back to the elderly woman.
“Well, breakfast isn’t going to make itself,” she said, and pushed the button to summon the elevator. In the commotion, the doors had closed, but the car hadn’t gone far. As the doors opened almost immediately, she took a step forward. “Have a nice day.”
“You, too,” I said, and watched her enter the elevator. When the doors started to close, I offered her the best smile I could muster. Once the elevator kicked it into gear and started its descent, I turned back up the hallway. As best I could with my bad ankle, I sprinted to room 3227.
The door was open. Not more than a half-inch, but I was fairly certain that was a half-inch more than how I’d left it. Without even my cell phone on me, I stood in the hallway staring at the black sliver of space separating the door from the doorjamb. Shock had me at a loss, but I had to do something. The seconds were ticking by, and the longer I waited, the more danger I put my parents in.
Banging on my parents’ door was a consideration, but I didn’t know if that would be the best thing to do. Waking them definitely seemed like a good idea, but what kind of trap could I be bringing them into? I considered going to get help, but that could take entirely too long, especially given the lack of warm bodies around. The only other person I’d seen was the elderly woman and I wasn’t sure she’d be much help in a fight.
Ultimately, there was only one real option.
With a final look up and down the hallway, I pushed the door open, but not far. I gave myself just enough room to slide my hand in and flip the light switch located just inside. Then I listened for a moment, and when the sudden burst of light didn’t trigger a reaction, I slowly opened the door all the way.
With the bathroom and vanity area directly to my right, I had to take several steps into the room before I could even see into the main part of it. It took both a deep breath and a moment of psyching myself up before I could look beyond the wall separating the areas. There was no one there. At least not on first glance. But being the good detective that I was, I decided that if there was someone anywhere in room 3227, I’d rather keep them in front of me.
> Picking up the plastic ice bucket from the vanity countertop, I poked my head into the small bathroom first. I braced myself for combat, something I wasn’t exactly accustomed to, as I flipped on the light. It turned out I didn’t have a fight on my hands just yet. After sliding the shower curtain all the way open and looking behind the door, it was clear that no one was hiding in the bathroom, waiting to jump me from behind.
I turned my attention back to the main room where no one had magically appeared in the last thirty seconds. I checked between the bed and the wall, behind the sitting chair. I even looked underneath the writing desk, though if anyone was hiding under there it would have been fairly obvious.
The room was empty, and after unplugging my cell phone from the charger and sliding it into my pocket, I turned my attention to the unlocked door connecting the two rooms.
With the bucket still clutched firmly in my hand, poised to do someone bodily harm, I put my ear to the wood. For several seconds, I listened for any sounds that might be coming from the other room. When I didn’t hear anything except the rapid beating of my heart, I turned the knob and opened the door.
The room was like a cave. The only light entering it was the light I’d introduced by opening the door. My father couldn’t sleep unless the room was pitch black, so I assumed the drapes were pulled closed. This may have helped him sleep, but it wasn’t helping current matters any.
“Dad.”
It came out as one of those forced whispers, the kind where you’re trying to keep your voice low, but still need to project across a room. The sound resembled that of a sick goat.
No response came back. No answer, no angry rebuttal. In fact, it was so quiet that I couldn’t even hear the soft breathing that usually accompanied my mother’s sleep.
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