Then he was sailing over the edge of the world and into a parallel universe he’d never visited before, suspended in darkness, his mind uncharacteristically unconcerned about his powerless state.
Then Josie cried out, in the middle of her own crisis and he was moving again. Frenetically, wildly, speeding through the darkness with an incredible sense of freedom.
LATER THAT NIGHT, as Josie sat at the quiet front desk, darkness having long since fallen outside the open doors, she trembled just thinking about what had passed between her and Drew in the kitchen.
She wished it could have continued, that they could have gone upstairs to his room and explored each other well into the night, but Philippe couldn’t stay because of an appointment he had to take his mother to. Even so, Josie didn’t have the money to pay him overtime.
At any rate, Drew had a reception party of some sort he needed to attend at the convention hotel. His immediate superior would be going and would expect to see him there. So she sat at the front desk alone, unable to wipe the wistful smile from her face. She couldn’t even bring herself to care about the debts she couldn’t cover or the future of the hotel. Both concerns would still be there in the morning, she told herself.
Right now…well, right now, she wanted to enjoy the blissful aftermath of great sex.
A sound from upstairs drew her attention.
Josie’s hand froze at her neck as her gaze swept toward the steps. With Drew out for the evening and Philippe gone, no one was in the hotel but her.
She was probably imagining things. Either that, or the light breeze had stirred something from its resting place.
Another noise.
Okay, maybe she wasn’t imagining things.
She rose from the chair and looked toward the open front doors and the tourists passing by in a colorful stream. No one seemed to be interested in her or the Josephine.
The unmistakable sound of footsteps overhead.
Here and there since the passing of her granme she’d thought she’d heard sounds. Had even imagined that her grandmother had found a way to stay around for a bit to watch out for her. The sensation had been so intense on occasion that Josie could have sworn she felt a hand on her shoulder or a brush against her temple.
But this didn’t feel like that. This felt…different.
Josie steeled herself, considering her options. She strode to close both doors, then stepped back behind the desk and took out the sawed-off shotgun she had locked in a compartment there. The firearm had been there for as long as she could remember. Certainly longer than Josie had been part of the hotel.
She climbed the stairs, having long memorized which creaked where and avoiding those spots. She emerged onto the second floor, the scent of sulfur assaulting her nose.
Oh, God. Something was burning.
She went to the door to Room 2C, Drew’s room, and used her master key to open the door. Nothing. No lights were on. Only the sound of the light sheers at the open doors flapping slightly in the warm breeze.
She backtracked out into the hall and went to 2B next door. Again, she opened the lock with her master key and peered inside. No one and nothing in sight.
She stepped to the closed door to 2D, her heart thudding heavily in her chest.
This was the room Claire Laraway was killed in just over two weeks ago. And forever in the back of her mind was the fact that her killer had yet to be caught.
Gripping the shotgun tightly in her right hand, she tried to manipulate the master key with her left. After two tries, she finally swung the door inward so that it crashed against the inside wall. She aimed the gun straight in front of her, ready to protect herself against any threat.
The source of the sulfur smell became immediately apparent. She stared at the wrought-iron bed where Claire had lain, her beautiful neck slit. In the middle sat a dozen lit black candles, their flames flickering in the cross draught she’d created by opening the door.
She slowly turned to her right, pointing the end of the shotgun in the direction of her gaze. No one was in there. She checked the connecting bathroom, with the same result.
But that was impossible. Someone had to have set up the candles, lit them and made the sounds she’d heard. She quickly blew out the candles then backtracked to the hall.
There were two ways to access the hall, from the lobby steps she’d used to come up, and from stairs leading to the kitchen. She took those now, careful to keep the gun out in front of her. While she’d never shot at anyone, she wasn’t adverse to it if the situation called for it.
She emerged into the dim kitchen. Only the light above the large industrial stove was on.
And the back door, the same door she had bolted before going to look after the front desk, was hanging wide open, the screen door budging back and forth as if just used…
Drew tried the front doors to the hotel. They were locked.
He stepped back and looked over the hotel. That was strange. Why would the doors be locked?
He rapped lightly on the glass, trying to see inside.
The right door swung suddenly inward and there stood Josie looking pale and holding what looked like a modified shotgun.
“Jesus Christ, what happened?” He took the firearm from her and strode into the lobby, looking around for the person who had put the disturbing expression on Josie’s face and the gun in her hands.
She shook her head. “They’re gone.”
She held out her hand for the gun and he gave it back to her. She stepped behind the desk and put it away into a locked compartment.
“Who’s gone?” he asked, moving to the other side of the desk.
“Whoever set the ritual altar in 2D.”
He wasn’t following her.
She sighed and smoothed the back of her shaking hand across her forehead. While she obviously wanted to make him think she was all right, he’d like to think he’d come to know her better than that.
Damn it, he should never have left her alone earlier.
But their session in the kitchen had been so intense, so raw, that he’d needed to get out to think a bit. To convince himself he was imagining the connection that he feared was forming between them.
And when that didn’t work, to consider where they went from there.
“What do you mean, altar? Have you called the police?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Why the hell not?” He pulled the phone closer to him on the desk and picked up the receiver.
She punched down the disconnect button. “Don’t.”
“Why not? Obviously someone who wasn’t supposed to be in here was and did something they shouldn’t. If that doesn’t demand a police report, I don’t know what does.”
“I don’t need the publicity.”
“Publicity, my ass, Josie.” He removed her hand and dialed 911.
Moments later he hung up. “They’ll be here in half an hour to an hour.”
She smiled faintly then sat in the chair behind the desk. “You don’t understand. This wasn’t so much a crime as it was a warning.”
“Show me.”
Five minutes later, Drew stood staring at the myriad black candles in the middle of the bed in 2D. Small satchels were lain in front of them and black wax had trickled over to pool on the white coverlet. He tried the switch for the overhead lights, but it didn’t work.
“Isn’t this where the girl was killed?” he asked.
She blinked at him.
“Your maid likes to gossip,” he told her, although he knew about the killing because he knew a lot more than a regular guest would.
She nodded and crossed her arms over her chest.
As they stood staring at each other, it was hard to believe that only a few short hours earlier they’d been joined together in ecstasy. That he’d spread her out on top of the cutting board in the kitchen and made love to her in a way he’d never made love to a woman before.