Inn Danger

by Dixie Davis

  If she shouted for help, Shawn would surely hear, and who knew what he might do then? It would only waste her breath. Even if she used her phone — she checked her pocket; it was there — Shawn would still hear her talking.

  And he’d run.

  What were her options?

  Lori pulled out her phone and looked down at it. No, it wasn’t fancy with all the bells and whistles of Shawn’s, but it still sent text messages just as well. Text messages Shawn couldn’t hear. All she had to do was keep the phone out of his sight.

  She glanced back. Just inside the sliding door, Shawn prowled like a lion watching its prey through the glass.

  Keeping her back to the door, Lori shuffled over to one of the rocking chairs and plopped down like she was surrendering to her defeat. She pulled up her contacts. Who should she call?

  Mitch had no reason to come for her when she hadn’t been there for him.

  Chip wouldn’t believe her if she tried, not even if she could text a message to Doris at dispatch. She’d already played the “we need you here now” card once today.

  Kim. She knew everyone in town — and everyone’s business. She was even on Chip’s good side still. Yes, she’d been instrumental in one of Lori’s investigations, but that murder had taken place in another town, so she hadn’t gotten on Chief Branson’s bad side. Lori pulled up her number and tapped out the painstaking text: I know who killed Debbie. He has me trapped upstairs at the inn.

  She sent the message. And then there was nothing to do but wait. “So what did Debbie do to you? How could she have failed you so badly so quickly?”

  “All I wanted was to know where I came from, right? I wanted a medical history, a heritage, roots. I even got one of those DNA tests, you know?”

  Lori only knew DNA testing in the context of crime solving, but if she thought about it, she could see how it would apply to finding your family. “You didn’t want a connection with her?”

  Shawn banged on the window and Lori jumped, turning around in her chair. His fist was still pressed against the glass. “I deserve to know where I came from. Who my family is.”

  She nodded slowly, not willing to risk upsetting him again. “Did you meet Debbie?”

  Again, he snorted, the derision clear. “Yeah. She was only willing to admit I was hers. Had like one or two things from the hospital — even my parents had more stuff than that. And then she was all, ‘I hope you had a good life.’ Ha.” His laugh was steeped in more bitterness than burned coffee.

  “I’m sure she’d tried to make sure that happened for you. She was too young to marry and take care of you.”

  “Yeah, well, she failed. My dad left the family when I was seven. All my life, I dreamed — hoped — wished my ‘real’ dad would show up one day, even just to play a game of ball. And that never happened.”

  Lori huddled against the wind and checked her phone for the second time. No reply from Kim yet. “That sounds terrible,” Lori tried.

  “You have no idea!” Shawn shouted. “And then my wife left me and my mom died, and suddenly this ‘real’ Mom and ‘real’ Dad are all I can think about.”

  Lori didn’t dare tell him she was pretty sure she could narrow the choices down for him. Would he kill his biological father like he had his mother?

  And why had he killed his mother if she was all he had left, after looking for her so hard? “So you met Debbie and then what?”

  “I suggested Miller’s Point because you made it sound perfect. We would meet, and everything would be perfect, and she’d tell me who my dad was.” His voice faded away in the last words enough that Lori suspected they’d gotten to the heart of the matter.

  She swiveled in her rocking chair to look at him, rubbing her hands over her arms. “And did she tell you who your father was?”

  “She said she couldn’t.” Shawn’s face crumpled and his voice almost gave out. “It wasn’t for me to know yet. She hadn’t talked to him and couldn’t spring it on him. But I don’t understand — I didn’t — I still don’t.” He pressed both hands to the glass. “Don’t I have a right to know?”

  “Of course you do,” Lori said. Maybe she could still talk her way out of this. Though if he’d killed his own mother, maybe she shouldn’t hold out hope for reasoning with him.

  She turned back, though she wasn’t really looking at the view, and checked her phone again. No word from Kim still? Usually she responded to texts at world-record speed.

  The sounds of gravel popping underneath tires reached her ears. Was this a guest — could she ask a guest for help? Or was this Kim or the cavalry she’d called in? Lori straightened in her chair and craned her neck to peer through the branches of the oak trees shielding the drive on the side of the house.

  “What’s — what’s that?” Shawn left his station at the sliding glass door. Lori couldn’t see very far into the room with the setting sun reflecting off the glass, but she assumed he was going to the window to look.

  Just as the white hood of a car poked into view, Shawn reappeared, tapping at the glass door. “Make this person leave.”

  “What if it’s a guest?” Lori asked a second before the roof of the car was visible — it was an SUV.

  A white SUV.

  Mitch? Had Kim called Mitch to help her?

  “Make him leave anyway. Tell him check-in has to be late today.”

  Lori stood and walked to the edge of the porch, holding onto the railing so Shawn couldn’t sneak up and push her over. Below, Mitch climbed out of his SUV.

  “I’m sorry,” she announced very loudly. Mitch looked up and met her eyes. For a moment, her act — her lie — became real. She was sorry. She’d given him as much as she could, but it wasn’t enough. Of course that had to have hurt him. Could she blame him if he hated her now?

  Maybe they’d both be better off that way.

  Lori shook her head, clearing those thoughts. Settle that later. “I’m sorry,” she tried again, “but something has come up.”

  “Is this our new normal?” Mitch asked.

  “Make him leave,” Shawn insisted again. “Or you’ll regret it.”

  She wasn’t sure the threat had any substance — but, then, he’d already killed once. “We had to move check-in later. I’m . . . still cleaning up after my last guests. They left a pretty bad mess.”

  Mitch frowned. “What? Are you okay?”

  “Why don’t you head to dinner first?” Lori asked. Using her body to shield her hands from Shawn’s view, Lori held up her phone, pointing at it. Mitch furrowed his brow but nodded.

  “The Salty Dog is good. Just over there.” Lori pointed in the general direction, hoping Mitch would pick up on the hint that he needed to leave.

  “Okay,” he said slowly and loudly. “I’ll be back in a little while.” He walked to his SUV again and pulled out.

  Lori had hoped Mitch leaving would help her relax, but it didn’t. He finally had a chance to make good on his perennial playful promise to rescue her — again — and she’d sent him away.

  And why? What was Shawn going to do to her?

  She slid her phone back into her pocket and turned back to him. “How did it happen?” she asked. “You went to meet your mother and ended up murdering her? Sounds more like you lured her to her death.”

  “No!” Shawn shouted, then collected himself again. “It was an accident.”

  “If it was an accident, your first thought should have been to call 9-1-1.”

  “It was too late.” He shook his head. “I didn’t mean to push her, but she slipped over the guardrail, and then she was gone.” His eyes focused on the middle distance as if he were reliving it, watching her fall to her death again. “I didn’t mean to.”

  Lori nodded slowly, mostly just trying not to upset him. If he’d already killed one woman this weekend by pushing her from a high place, her position right now was not exactly an advantage. “Why didn’t you tell anyone if it was an accident?” she
tried again, a little more gently this time.

  “It. Was. Too. Late,” he ground out. “Besides, let her keep that secret like she kept everything else a secret from me.”

  Posthumous revenge. Lori offered another nod, but before she could think of where to take the conversation next, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She turned her back on Shawn again, slipped the phone from her pocket and settled on the wooden rocker again.

  What’s going on? Mitch asked.

  Where would she start? Debbie’s killer is one of my guests. He’s got me locked out here.

  I don’t understand, but I’m on my way. Is the back door unlocked?

  Lori let herself marvel a moment. Obviously this was a little bit different since she was in danger, but she hadn’t been able to say that same perfect message to Mitch. She didn’t understand. She still wasn’t sure she wanted to.

  But if she could help Mitch understand what she was facing right now, he might be able to bring closure for everyone here. It would take her forever to text the whole story to him. Much faster just to tell him — but she couldn’t call him with Shawn standing there.

  Or could she? I’m going to call you, she texted Mitch. Answer, but don’t say anything. She hit the button to dial his number and hoped he’d gotten her text first.

  The phone rang, and Lori prayed Shawn couldn’t hear. It was quiet, but it was hard not to be paranoid at a time like this.

  Finally, the line clicked softly. No hello. Lori pushed the button to turn it to speaker phone. “Let me get this straight, Shawn,” she said, loud enough for him and the phone. “You’ve been looking for your birth mother, and you came here to meet her?”

  “I was born here,” Shawn said. “I figured she lived here, too.”

  They could correct that assumption later. “But then when you went to meet up with her, she refused to tell you who your birth father was. Then you pushed her, she tripped over the guardrail and fell in the river?”

  When she laid it out like that, it didn’t sound all that unreasonable, until you got to the part about letting her death be a secret like her life and vengeance was his, etc., etc.

  “Any questions?” Shawn asked, his tone sarcastic.

  “Sounds like I’ve got it.” Lori pushed the button to end the call to Mitch and hoped that was enough information to get a full handle on the situation.

  Back door IS locked, Mitch texted. Trying the front.

  Lori was sure Mitch would know to keep close to the house and tread softly so Shawn couldn’t see or hear him. After a moment, she could only just make out the sound of quiet footsteps on gravel.

  Time to talk over the sound. “I can’t imagine how that must feel,” Lori said. “To spend so long looking for your mother and then when you finally meet her, kill her before you get to ask her any of those important questions.”

  “It sucks,” Shawn answered. “I’m not asking for your pity, thanks.”

  “Oh, no, obviously not.” Lori’s phone buzzed and she glanced at its tiny screen. Front door locked too. Any windows open?

  Of course not. If only she’d thought to put out a key like Ray and Katie had — wait, she had put out a key. She typed out the text so fast it held three typos: theres a lockbox under the last rockr. it has keyes to the porch and this room. The elation in her heart wavered a split second as she remembered they were in the room her guests were supposed to use tonight. Would she have to clean it again?

  And then she remembered the more pressing issue of being held hostage. By an unarmed man. Who probably didn’t have a plan. She shivered, but mostly from the cold.

  “All right,” Shawn said. “I’m going to get out of here.”

  “I have your home address, Shawn,” she said, so patient her tone bordered on bored. “The police will find you.”

  “Why go back there? There’s nothing left.”

  The irony was that there in Atlanta, he’d always been closer to his biological mother than he’d known. They had to come back here for him to find her. And to kill her.

  “Don’t you want to see your daughter?”

  Lori’s phone vibrated again with a text from Mitch. What’s the combination?

  Oh, that was a very good question. Adam had been the one to set up the box. It should be set to the last four digits of the incoming guests’ phone number, but she didn’t know it off the top of her head.

  Visions of being saved faded, although Mitch could surely catch Shawn when he did decide to leave.

  “My daughter is better off this way,” Shawn murmured. Lori could just make out the words.

  “Of course that’s not true,” Lori said, but her mind was really on tapping out a response to Mitch: call Adam he knows here’s his number.

  Within seconds, Lori could hear the low tones of Mitch’s voice carrying from the porch below her. Not distinct enough to make out the words, but could it still be loud enough for Shawn to hear? Lori held her breath.

  “What are you doing?” Shawn called. “What am I hearing?”

  Oh no. Lori’s stomach crept lower. If Shawn knew there was someone here to catch him, he’d either sneak out the back or keep her barricaded here forever.

  “Nothing,” Lori said quickly. Too quickly. “Why, what does it sound like?”

  “Someone. Talking.” Shawn craned his neck to look around, as if he could see much from behind the sliding door.

  At that moment, Mitch’s voice stopped. Lori heard the soft click of the lock on the lockbox, and the quiet clatter of opening the lid. She knew that sound perfectly — it had woken her up at night often enough.

  “Wait a minute,” Shawn said. “How do you know so much about this?”

  “Do I?”

  “You had her picture in your office. You were snooping on me. Who was she to you?”

  Lori contemplated lying to keep him distracted, but surely she didn’t have to resort to that. “I didn’t know her. I only moved here a couple years ago.”

  She neglected to keep the “buuut” out of her cadence.

  So Shawn said it for her. “But . . . ?”

  “I know her parents. And her husband. Ex-husband,” she supposed.

  Any moment he should burst through that door, and presumably detain Shawn.

  So why wasn’t he?

  She tried to reanalyze what she heard from below. The lockbox lock, certainly. The lid opening, definitely. The keys being extracted, probably.

  The keys in the door? No. The door opening? Nope.

  Why was he hesitating now?

  Lori cast her gaze heavenward. This was far from the most treacherous situation she’d found herself in — even with a murderer — but somehow she felt very helpless right now.

  Finally, another set of quiet footsteps crunched through the gravel. Kim, come to check on her herself?

  Of course. Kim had called Mitch to come, and they were working together. Mitch probably thought Lori wouldn’t even welcome a rescue from him at this point.

  She’d welcome a rescue from anyone. It was the giver that was the question.

  But instead of the key sliding in the lock and the door opening, she heard . . . whispering? Nothing distinct enough to make out any words, or even identify the speakers, but whoever it was seemed to know about the need for stealth.

  Finally, finally, Lori thought she heard the faint sounds of the front door swinging open. Finally. Rescue was on its way. She strained to hear the sounds of footsteps on the stairs, but obviously the chances were low from here, especially if these people were trying to be sneaky.

  Lori was straining so hard to listen that when a knock sounded at the Carolina Beach Room door, she jumped. Shawn did too, pivoting to see who was at the door.

  No one yet. Didn’t they have the room key? Lori got up from the chair, no longer worried Shawn might see her phone, and walked up to the glass door to watch.

  Shawn glanced back at Lori, like she had some control of what was happening h
ere. Or any idea. She shrugged.

  “Shawn, right?” Lori could barely hear Mitch’s voice through the door. “I have something important to talk to you about.”

  “It can wait. Back away, or . . . else.” The threat was even weaker than his words.

  .“Listen, I was married to Debbie. I knew her, I’ve known her since we were kids.”

  Shawn strode across the room and yanked the door open. “You knew her?”

  “Since we were born, practically.”

  Lori knocked on the glass, trying to remind Mitch there was something they needed to take care of first — getting her out of this trap. Mitch nodded to her but spoke to Shawn. “Can we let Lori back inside and then talk about this?”

  “About what?” Shawn was hedging his bets, it sounded like.

  “I know she was your mother.” Even without Shawn’s permission, Mitch began to edge toward the sliding glass door.

  “You don’t know.” Shawn shook his head, turning away from Mitch. “I’m never going to know who my father is. Even her husband doesn’t know — the man she’s lived with for, like, thirty years.”

  Mitch reached the doors and flipped the lock. He and Lori both pulled on the handles to let her back in. Then Mitch turned to Shawn. “Wrong on a couple counts, there, buddy. Number one, she left me ten years ago.”

  Shawn stopped short and turned back to him. “Oh. I didn’t . . . sorry.”

  Mitch left the complicated history at that. “Number two, I do know who your father is.”

  The room fell silent, the air thick and oppressive. Shawn took a deep breath before he ventured to speak. “Are . . . are you my father?”

  No. This meant he had to be. Didn’t it? Lori couldn’t seem to draw a breath, let alone try to run through the logic of the whole thing.

  Two more seconds of heavy silence slithered by before Mitch finally answered. “No.”

  And then he nodded at the door.

  Where Chip — Chief Branson — stood.

  Oh. Lori instantly deflated. She was sure they were about to reveal Shawn’s father, and instead, Mitch had called in the chief to arrest Debbie’s murderer. That was a good call, too, but now Lori really wanted to know who Debbie had had a child with.