I was lucky to get a spot in front of the Best Western. The lights around the parking lot were all on, shining down on the entry. I grabbed my small suitcase and the bag carrying the electric lanterns and went in.
The place looked cheery and fairly new. I didn’t have much reason to go to Vancouver when I’d lived there, only passing through it, stopping at the Fred Meyer for things to fortify me for a drive north. I didn’t know if the hotel really was new or if I just hadn’t seen it before.
The lobby smelled of fresh pine and vanilla. The floors were designed to absorb the sounds of people walking. Low blue carpet lined the main lounge area where a gas fireplace was lit, the flames leaving dancing shadows against the walls. My neck crawled. Moving shadows made it harder to pin point those that were unnatural.
Fortunately, there wasn’t a wait to get checked in, so I didn’t need to stay in the lobby very long. I headed up to my room on the second floor. Getting off the tiny, but bright elevator, I was thankful that the hallway was both wide and well-lit. I heard a television from a room across the hall. In another, I heard someone talking, probably on the phone as I heard only one voice.
My key worked easily and I opened the door onto darkness. I reached in to turn on a light. My hand felt cold. The lights came on and I saw nothing strange. I breathed out.
I stepped in, turning on the bathroom light, not looking in there, not wanting to see what might lurk in the dark. I’d seen things in the light, but for some reason the light made me feel safer. When everything was on, I set around my electric lanterns. I found the heat and turned it up. The room was cold, but someone had set the temperature down lower than my thin North Carolina blood was comfortable with.
I closed the drapes so I didn’t have to look out onto the dark trees that lined the path behind the hotel. I was on the quiet side, but that meant my view was of trees and the tops of other buildings, a perfect place for something to go sliding around. Other people might love it, but I found it frightening.
Having set things up, I went out to grab the rest of my stuff. I was going to have to rest up for my drive the next day. I was meeting Lois at noon the next day which meant I’d need to be up early. As Washington was three hours behind Charlotte that shouldn’t be a problem. Ronette was going to meet me at a Burger King which was just off the highway where I’d need to turn around.
She’d waited until nearly the last minute to get back to me, but she’d come through. I didn’t know how I’d ever repay her.
Once I bought everything into the room, I tried to settle in. I couldn’t concentrate to read and I hated the way the television made me feel as if I were in my own little world, unable to hear people moving around in the hotel or talking in their rooms. Once, I thought I heard the single drip of a faucet. I listened harder, but heard only the sounds of someone in another room turning on the shower.
Perhaps I was safe there. Perhaps not.
Despite my extra lights, the hotel felt dark. It hadn’t when I’d come in, but as time passed, the room felt as if it were closing in, getting darker the smaller it got, the tiny space eating away at the light. I knew it had to be my imagination.
I thought about Anson’s comments. Our minds search for ways to make things make sense. The room wasn’t darker, or if it was, perhaps as the night settled in whatever light from the outside had dimmed leaving the room less bright. Or maybe it was all in my head and as I sat there I noticed how dark the room really was. Maybe whatever had happened to me at the rest stop had caused me to go crazy and I couldn’t even trust my eyes to notice whether a hotel room was actually dark or not.
I didn’t believe I was crazy, but wasn’t it a sign of mental illness to be certain of your sanity?
The last meal I had had was on the plane. I looked at the apples I purchased at Fred Meyer. Two of them. Both were red striated with pink and they smelled so heavenly, but my stomach was too knotted for me to be hungry.
Maybe in the morning or maybe later I’d want to eat.
I had slept on the plane, but that brief rest had not been nearly enough. Although the bed was comfortable, I had a feeling my mind wasn’t going to let me rest very well in the hotel.
I looked in the bathroom, gauging the light. Did I dare take a shower?
The light flickered just a little. The heat lamp made a long buzzing sound. I worried that the light would burn itself out before I could finish washing my hair and body. I couldn’t shower in there, not at night.
I sighed. Maybe after I found Lucy I’d feel better.
I lay down and tried to sleep.
28
Traci: September Now
Morning rolled around and I was up before dawn had cleared the horizon. I needed to shower and I did so, quickly. The lights stayed on and nothing crawled into the shower with me. I used the hotel shampoo so both I and the bathroom smelled of citrus and spice. It was an uplifting scent.
The smell wasn’t enough to keep me from feeling shaky and uncertain but it was enough that I didn’t feel quite as terrified as I had been.
I ate an apple and packed up my things. I had a reservation for the next night but I didn’t know if I’d need it. I wanted to have everything I brought with me because I had no idea what I’d need when I was at the rest stop.
Originally, I had planned to just do some daylight reconnaissance. I’d go back on the next night to do the ceremony, but now I was hoping to have it all done in one day. That way, I’d have more time to visit with Ronette, assuming all went well.
Other people in the hotel were up early as well, and I was surrounded by the sounds of running water, low voices talking, and the squeak and groan of the floors. I heard the faint ding of the elevator bell when it arrived on my floor. I gathered my things and headed out. I considered eating something more at the complimentary breakfast, but I decided to wait. If I had to go to the bathroom on the drive, it would give me an excuse to stop at a Starbucks. Most of their stores, the ones I was familiar with, had single stall bathrooms and if I had to use a public bathroom, I felt safer in those.
I wouldn’t get coffee even if I needed the caffeine. Caffeine might make me have to use the restroom sooner than I wanted. Instead, I’d get a scone and a small bottle of water.
I got in my little Kia which smelled faintly of a spicy cologne, perhaps from the last user. I readjusted the seat, trying to get it right. Then I looked through the manual and checked that I knew where the turn signal was, the headlights, the gas-cap door. I started up and began to wend my way north.
I was going to be early to the Burger King if I made good time. At least Ronette wouldn’t be left waiting there, wondering what had happened. She couldn’t say I stood her up if I were early.
The day had dawned clearer than the day before, but it wasn’t without clouds. Still, plenty of pink sky peeked out between the gray and white puff-ball clouds and it looked as if more clouds were drifting away than in.
Traffic wasn’t too bad going north at that time of day. It wasn’t completely clear sailing, but I was thankful to be moving in the direction I was. Southbound was clearly another matter, the lanes packed with cars and many coming to a complete stop for several minutes.
I was both comforted by the evergreens that lined the freeway and disconcerted at being back. My heart pounded and my mouth went dry thinking about the last time I’d traveled I-5. Another part of me was overcome with shock at how much had changed—it used to be a long way out to Ridgefield but now the entire drive from Vancouver to Ridgefield was completely built up, and that building even included an amphitheater.
Nearly twenty years was a long time to be gone. It was shocking to see the changes, but I suppose it shouldn’t have been. I’d read a lot about how everyone loved Portland. Articles like that always made me a little homesick, although I always sort of wished that all those people singing the praises of Portland had experienced what I’d experienced. Maybe they wouldn’t be so thrilled with the Northwest after all.
Traffic s
lowed a little near the Kelso/Longview area but then it picked back up again. I was at the Burger King with over an hour to go. I sighed, sitting in the little car. I wasn’t hungry, at least not then, and I didn’t know when Ronette would get there. She didn’t have quite as far to travel as I did, but perhaps there was more traffic for her.
I checked for text messages. There was one from Will wishing me well. I sent him a quick note back.
There was another, from earlier, about the time I had set out from an unknown number. I figured that it was probably just an advertiser or perhaps someone with a wrong number.
“Looking forward to meeting you.”
My first thought was Lois, but we’d not exchanged phone numbers. A chill went down my back, long and hard enough that I was close to turning around and leaving, not just the Burger King, but the Northwest. I entertained the fantasy of moving to England. Our bank had a partner bank over there. Then I thought of the long cloudy days and old buildings with faucets that probably dripped on a regular basis and knew I could never survive there.
Either Lois had found my phone number because she was a good researcher or it was something else.
I couldn’t have said which was worse.
My mouth felt dry. My hands shook. I didn’t want to be alone any longer. There were two cars going through the drive-thru and one parked in front of the restaurant. I got out and went in. At least there, people would be serving, even if the other customer finished and left.
Although I wasn’t particularly hungry or thirsty, I ordered a Dr. Pepper. I’d given up Diet Coke the night I’d nearly died. I hadn’t wanted to, but my stomach had heaved at the idea every time I’d tried to drink it and I’d gradually decided that particular soda was another casualty of the night I had nearly died.
I didn’t order lunch. It was too early. I’d missed their breakfast hours. I did get some French fries to nibble on and hopefully keep them from asking me to leave because I hadn’t purchased enough.
I sat at one of the tables near a window, the side where the sun was coming in. Behind the counter that separated the kitchen from the eating area, shadows moved and lengthened. Sometimes I thought I saw a hand reaching out to me.
I shook my head and looked down at my phone. I nibbled my fries and played a game. Time ticked by.
I logged onto the Cold Case Forum to see if Lois had posted anything. She’d sent a message similar to the one I had gotten by text.
“I’m setting off. Looking forward to meeting you. Who knows what we’ll find?”
She seemed a little too cheery for what we were doing. Given the time, I had a feeling she’d be early. Maybe she’d find Lucy’s remains before I even got there. I was starting to think this was a ridiculous idea, but it was the only one I had.
I nibbled a few more fries.
I sipped the Dr. Pepper. I’d never much liked it before I moved south and it was everywhere. Now it was my soda of choice. I hadn’t quite gotten into sweet tea. Maybe it was a taste you had to be born with.
A car backfired and made me jump, reminding me of exactly how tense I was. I tried to concentrate on my breathing but it didn’t help. If anything, doing so made things worse. I was probably getting used to the fact that I only concentrated on breathing when I was terrified. Perhaps my body was responding accordingly.
I ought to look into more therapy when I got home. I clearly needed more help than I was getting.
I ate another fry.
I was about to start another game of solitaire when I saw a heavy set woman with purple hair getting out of her car. It was a short curly bob, just like Ronette had always worn her hair. When she stood up and turned, I knew it was her. She’d gotten rounder but there was also an air of confidence about her carriage that had been missing twenty years ago. Of course, raising a family had probably given her plenty of challenges to overcome.
She was dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved Henley knit pullover in pink. She pulled out her phone from a nicely designed beige and brown leather bag and looked at it. She didn’t text.
I held my breath. She walked in and looked around, breaking into a smile when she saw me. I stood up, though my legs were shaky. I hadn’t seen her in years. I’d forced myself to her wedding, but that was the last time. I’d nearly had a heart attack in the church bathrooms which had white stalls and a faucet that had dripped constantly.
I’d been near to losing it before we got to the hotel for the reception and I’d made a beeline for the room I was in. Even then, I’d been haunted by the sound of the faucet dripping made worse by the hotel room’s dim lighting. I had gone in anyway and used the toilet. While I was in there, toilet paper had wrapped itself around my hands as if the unseen creature was trussing me up like a wedding gift.
I’d whimpered and groaned, pulling them apart, surprised when the toilet paper had broken with little effort. I had hurried out as fast as my rubbery legs could take me and stayed until I was the last one there, not because I was partying and having fun, but because I wasn’t sure I could go back to my hotel room.
“Traci!” Ronette said, holding her arms out for a hug. Her voice was lower than I remembered but still held a sing song tone whenever she spoke.
I smiled and held my arms out. “It’s good to see you,” I said. “I’m so glad you were willing to come with me.”
“No one knows how much the rest stop incident changed you more than me and maybe Dave,” Ronette said, referring to my then-boyfriend.
I couldn’t say anything.
Ronette let go of the hug and pushed me back a little, taking a long look at me. “It’s not your fault. You must have been terrified. I know you tried to keep that all in and just push through but some things can’t be pushed through. And clearly you’re seeing you can’t just run from them either.”
My eyes got all teary and I tried not to choke on the sobs that started to fill my throat. When had my once best friend gotten so wise? And, I thought, so kind, given that we hadn’t really talked in years, perhaps decades.
Ronette, seeing my reaction pulled me into another hug. “We’ll talk when you’re ready,” she said. Then she sat and start prattling on about her children, as if we’d had lunch at Burger King every week for years. She nibbled on my fries and then got up and got herself a Whopper Junior. She got me an original chicken sandwich with cheese, just the way I had liked it.
I was getting myself back together when she brought the tray back to the table.
“So?” she said. “Tell me what brought you back and pushed you into checking into this. It can’t be the other woman getting killed. A woman was killed not long after you had your scare and this has been over nineteen years. I remember it to the day because this all started the day after my birthday.”
“One of my coworkers was killed in a rest stop in Charlotte,” I said quietly.
“No shit?” Ronette paused in opening the wrapper around her burger.
I nodded. I hadn’t touched my chicken sandwich, wasn’t sure if I could eat while having that discussion.
“And you think this was about you?” Ronette pushed.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I mean the main reason I went so far away was to get away from whatever happened, but I see shadows and jump. I can’t sleep without all the lights on. I can’t use a public restroom unless I know it’s private—no stalls. A dripping faucet sends me into a panic attack.” I was getting choked up.
Ronette reached over and held my hand. “It’s okay. We’re here now and you’re doing something.”
“I read about the death here too,” I said. “I think that’s what started it. Deborah—the woman who died?—she was really fascinated by the deaths at Steely Woods. It’s almost like it was connected even though I know that’s crazy.”
“Maybe it isn’t crazy,” Ronette said. I’d never told her what I really thought happened, about the fact that the hand I saw didn’t just look skeletal but was bone and rotten flesh. I’d only told her about my terror and about th
e fact that two girls had come in and I’d been saved. She’d never pressed for specific details.
I waited. I quietly opened my chicken sandwich.
“I mean, that was a weird thing that happened. I’ve been following this last death a bit in the papers because I remembered the weekend you were there another woman died.” Ronette paused and took a bite of her Whopper Junior. “It’s weird. There’s stuff on the internet claiming there has to be a cover-up because of the way things happened. I mean there’s speculation that it’s some sort of cult keeping a demon at bay with a sacrifice every twenty years. There’s another that it’s a police officer or trucker who kills women on a schedule. They’ve got a few other places where deaths have happened in the area, but I’m not sure how they link those. There are other people who think it’s supernatural.”
“Why?” I asked. I picked up my sandwich, wondering about taking a bite. I didn’t look at Ronette, afraid that she might see the hope in my eyes that I was being validated.
“Because people have seen things for the last several weeks. Women who go into the restroom alone and think they hear something or see something. One woman started screaming and her husband came running in. The woman who died was alone. Her mom left to go out to the car earlier and it was only five minutes later that she went in and found her daughter. There were truckers across the way, but no one saw anything.”
I nodded. “That’s kind of what happened to Deborah.”
“See? That’s what makes people think it was supernatural. Otherwise, how did the killer leave?”
“Anson says that we use the supernatural to make sense out of things that don’t make sense. Like this death.”
“Anson is full of it,” Ronette said. She took a big bite out of her burger, chewing quickly. She took a long drink of her soda, watching me the whole time.
“Maybe that’s why I have stuff,” I said. “To try and banish her. Or maybe just banish her from me.”
The Haunting of Steely Woods Page 13
