Кей Хупер - Chill Of Fear

"Yeah, I've already thought about that. If Missy was less than a year younger than me, it means she was born while my mother was still alive. She was in and out of hospitals even before I was born, but it got worse with every passing year. Which means my father was involved with another woman while my mother was probably ill in a hospital."

"Diana, we don't know that. We don't really know anything. Except that we've found a photograph of you and Missy together and that your father — caught completely off guard — didn't deny she was your sister when you asked him about it. That's all we know."

"You sound like a lawyer," she murmured.

"I am a lawyer, technically. And I'm a cop. Look, all I'm saying is that we can't assume anything. If there's one thing I've learned in my life, it's that any situation is always more complicated than it looks at first. Always."

Diana felt as well as heard the thunder rolling down from the mountains, and rubbed her temple harder, wishing the pounding would stop and wondering why his voice sounded distant all of a sudden. "We probably won't have to assume for long," she said. "If I know my father, he'll be here by Sunday evening, Monday at the latest."

"Are you okay with that?"

"I don't have much choice, do I? It's a public hotel."

"That's not what I meant."

She knew that. "If I have to face him, it might as well be here, and might as well be now. I want the truth. I'm tired of... not remembering. Not knowing."

"You'll get there. We'll get there."

"Yeah." She looked away from him finally to stare at the photo in her hand, still rubbing her pounding temple. "In the meantime, I feel like I'm in the middle of a bad soap-opera plot without a rudder. Sisters separated in childhood, one of them murdered and now a restless ghost. A mother who died in a mental hospital. A lying, cheating father. An old Victorian hotel where ghosts walk. And an FBI agent who believes I can somehow make sense of it all."

"I do believe that."

Thunder rumbled and boomed, loudly now, and lightning flashed.

The photo blurred a little and then cleared. And Diana caught her breath as she could have sworn that the image of Missy took her hand off the dog and held it out as though beckoning. To the person holding the camera. Or to her older sister looking on.

"Diana—"

Before he could touch her, she flinched away from the movement she felt more than saw, murmuring, "No. Don't." She didn't take her eyes off the picture.

"What is it?" he demanded, his voice strained.

Don't let him touch you. Not now. Not this time.

The voice was too familiar, its urgency too real, for Diana to be able to disobey, and without even considering the matter she heard herself tell Quentin tensely, "Don't touch me. There's something I have to — Just don't touch me. Wait."

Lightning flashed brilliantly seconds after she uttered the command, and abruptly Diana found herself in the gray time.

Alone.

Ellie Weeks hadn't believed she could be more nervous than she had been making that phone call, but with everything happening in and around The Lodge, she was convinced she'd jump out of her skin if somebody so much as said boo in her general vicinity. Of course, being watched like a hawk by that old bat Mrs. Kincaid was enough to make anybody jittery, and she expected that pregnancy hormones could account for the rest, but still.

She was beginning to think getting kicked out of this place might not be such a bad thing. Assuming she had someplace else to go, of course.

She checked her cell phone for the tenth time, just to make sure she had a strong signal and hadn't missed a call. And like the other nine times, the indicator promised a strong signal and no missed calls.

"Shit," she murmured softly.

"Ellie!"

She jumped and then turned to face Mrs. Kincaid, knowing she looked guilty as hell but unable to do anything about it. As unobtrusively as possible, she slipped the cell phone back into the pocket of her uniform. None of the staff was supposed to carry their phones on duty. "Yes, ma'am?"

"I thought I asked you to get the Orchid Room ready. We have a Very Important Guest arriving tomorrow."

There were always Very Important Guests checking in, Ellie thought. But her mild curiosity as to who might be checking in became something else as she wondered suddenly whether this guest might be the result of her phone call.

Could he have gotten here so fast? Would he?

"Yes, ma'am." She tried to keep the hope out of her voice, asking as casually as possible, "A returning guest, ma'am?"

Mrs. Kincaid frowned at her.

Quickly, Ellie said, "I just wondered if it was somebody we knew liked a certain kind of soap or extra towels or — or something like that."

Still frowning, the housekeeper said, "As a matter of fact, it is a returning guest. Check your worksheet, for heaven's sake, Ellie. His preferences are noted, as always."

"Oh, yes, ma'am. I'm sorry. Sort of scatterbrained today."

"I noticed," Mrs. Kincaid snapped. "Keep your mind on your work if you want to keep your job."

Ellie nodded and went hurriedly to get her cart, her heart pounding in sick excitement. Was it him? Was he coming here after getting her message, perhaps because he knew or had guessed what she had to tell him?

Her worksheet was, as they usually were, maddeningly enigmatic. No names. The guest due to check into the Orchid Room the following day preferred no fresh flowers or scented soaps due to allergies, and required both extra towels and pillows.

Which told her nothing. Ellie hadn't prepared his room before his last visit. But her friend Alison had.

It required only a few minutes for Ellie to push her cart into the service elevator and take it up to her floor — which was mostly deserted due to check-outs. Whether it was the fairly unobtrusive presence of the police or general unease about what the hell was going on, quite a few guests had decided to cut short their stays.

Not that Ellie minded that. She unlocked the door to the Orchid Room and pushed it open, forgetting in her haste the automatic knock-first-even-if-you-know-the-room-is-empty rule drummed into them all by Mrs. Kincaid.

At The Lodge, privacy and discretion were guaranteed.

She quickly stripped the bed and dragged the vacuum out into the room, just to make it look as if she had been working in here. And it was sheer chance that as she turned for the door, she noticed a flicker of lightning from outside the window catch something metallic that was otherwise hidden in the deep pile carpet.

Ellie hesitated, but she was too curious not to look, to search for what the flash of light had revealed.

A locket.

The locket.

The same damned one she had found before, in this very room.

"You're in the Lost and Found," she murmured, staring down at what lay in the palm of her hand. "I took you there. I put you in an envelope and left you in the Lost and Found. So... how did you get back here?"

It was a puzzle, and baffling, but Ellie had more important things on her mind at the moment and was easily able to shrug it off for now. She slid the locket into the pocket of her uniform, disobeying yet another of Mrs. Kincaid's iron rules because she didn't have time to stop and do the envelope thing.

Besides, it apparently hadn't worked the last time.

She checked the empty and very quiet hallway, then went in search of her friend.

Despite the earlier flash of lightning, Ellie was only vaguely aware that another storm was crackling and groaning outside. She'd been here long enough to be familiar with the way spring storms rolled down from the mountains, and since she didn't have to be out in this one, she didn't pay attention to the increasing violence in the sounds.