know was that they had a connecting room, an escape route, their own panic room—with a phone.
She glanced down at the aluminum bar in the window groove, a security device meant to keep the window from sliding open too far. She furtively lifted the bar from between the grooves along the windowsill. Then she let it drop on the floor, near her feet.
Hannah walked away from the window and sat down on the bed across from Guy. Peeking up at her from his pillow, he rubbed his eyes and yawned. “Hi, Mom,” he muttered.
She felt his forehead. He didn’t seem to be running a fever at all. “Honey, remember how I said earlier that we were going to play a game?”
He nodded. “We were gonna play after lunch, but you said no.”
Hannah stroked his hair. “That’s right. But we’re starting the game now. It’s a very serious game, Guy. I need you to do exactly what I tell you. Do you understand?”
The brat climbed out of bed. He was in his T-shirt and underpants. He said something to his mother, then retreated into the bathroom.
With his camera, Richard Kidd zoomed in on Hannah Doyle as she unbuttoned her blouse. The light was better now, no reflection on the window. She was in focus. She had her shirt open, with a bra underneath. She pulled a robe out of the closet.
Richard didn’t expect it, but he felt himself getting hard.
He watched Hannah tie back her blond hair in a ponytail.
The brat emerged from the bathroom and scurried back into the bed.
Hannah said something to him; then she stepped into the bathroom. Richard put down the camera for a moment. He reached into the bag on the floor of the passenger side.
He found the butcher’s knife he’d brought along specifically for tonight. He’d wrapped it up in a towel. The blade was eight inches long. He kept the knife hidden in the towel as he stepped out of his car. He glanced again at the window to Room 111.
Hannah came out of the bathroom, still wearing her robe. She had a shampoo bottle in her hand.
Richard stood by the car with the door open. He watched her say something to the brat. The kid yanked up the comforter, covering his face. She pulled it down to speak to him, but he only tugged the comforter back up again, huddling beneath it.
Hannah turned down the lights. It was so dim in there, Richard didn’t think the place would photograph well. But he’d have good, strong light in the bathroom, and that was where it really mattered.
He’d have to cheat a little, of course. Holding a camera and wielding the knife would be difficult. Later, he’d videotape a few shadowy shots of himself raising the knife and plunging it downward. Then he’d splice those shots into footage of the actual murder.
He watched his leading lady saunter over to the window and close the curtains.
He tucked the swaddled knife under his arm. After retrieving his video camera from the front seat, he shut the car door.
He headed for Room 111, where Hannah Doyle would give her final performance.
“Oh, Guy, you’re being so good,” Hannah whispered, quickly leading him into the connecting room. She was carrying his clothes, shoes, and jacket. She sat him on the floor, between the two beds. “Now, I want you to get dressed. Then stay down here, and be very quiet. Stay there until I say it’s okay. Understand, sweetheart?”
Wide-eyed, he nodded.
Hannah kissed the top of his head. She threw off her robe. She was still dressed underneath it. Buttoning up her blouse, she went to the window and peeked through the slit between the curtains. She could see Richard Kidd skulking toward Room 111. She’d been right about him and the
Richard Kidd neared the row of rooms. Hannah could see he had a video camera in his hand and a towel tucked under one arm.
Grabbing a pillow from the bed, Hannah hurried back to the other room. She shoved the pillow under the sheets of the bed Guy had just vacated, then pulled the comforter back up. It looked like there was a small body in the bed. Hannah rolled her eyes and hoped he’d fall for it.
She swiped the aluminum bar off the floor by the window. Breathlessly, she ran into the bathroom and turned on the shower, full blast. She closed the curtain, then darted out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.
On her way to the connecting room, Hannah paused. She noticed a shadow on the window curtains, the silhouette of someone creeping up to the door. Past the muffled roar of the shower, she could hear him rattling the doorknob and fiddling with the lock.
Hannah ducked into the connecting room. She checked the adhesive tape over the lock. Still secure. There was no knob on the inside, so she gave the door a quick tug. It shut, but not quite all the way.
“All right now, honey,” she whispered. “Be very quiet.”
“’Kay, Mom,” Guy answered in a loud whisper.
Clutching the aluminum bar in her hand, Hannah leaned close to the door. She heard some clicking. He was still working on the lock next door.
Richard Kidd managed to unlock the motel room door with his dead friend’s skeleton key. Seth had always been the expert at breaking and entering. But Richard had picked up a few of his tricks.
Quietly, he opened the door. He didn’t want her brat interfering. He’d planned on slitting the kid’s throat very quickly, then moving on to Mommy in the shower.
But the kid appeared to be asleep again already. The covers were still pulled over his head from their game of peekaboo earlier. He didn’t stir.
Richard closed the door behind him. He decided to leave the little shit alone until afterward. He liked the idea of killing Hannah with a clean knife. And he needed to catch her while she was still in the shower. Stopping to do away with the son might screw that up.
As he crept toward the bathroom, Richard could hear the shower water churning. He glanced back toward the beds. The kid hadn’t moved at all, just a lump under the covers.
Clutching the knife handle, Richard shook off the small towel, and tucked the blade back under his arm. He switched on the video camera and put it up to his face. He reached for the bathroom door with his free hand.
For a fleeting moment, he missed his friend. How much easier it might have been with one man filming, and another stabbing. But he only needed one hand to work the knife. And he’d become accustomed to operating a camera while running, driving, and conducting all sorts of activities. He was up for the challenge.
Richard filmed the door opening. A bright light swept across the dim bedroom, and steam fogged up the lens for a moment.
The bathroom came into focus: white tiles, beige wallpaper. The shower curtain was white plastic, not the semi-transparent kind. He couldn’t see her on the other side. But he could imagine.
She was naked, of course. She probably had her eyes closed. She couldn’t hear him. And she certainly couldn’t hear the quiet, mechanical humming noise from his video camera.
Gazing at that closed shower curtain, he felt a little giddy and nervous. It wasn’t just the steam that was making him sweat. Richard filmed his hand slowly reaching for the curtain.
Suddenly, his movements became accelerated. His adrenaline was pumping. He yanked the curtain open, then quickly pulled the knife from under his other arm. Richard was looking through his camera as he raised the butcher’s knife. He wanted to capture her screams on videotape.
But the shower was empty.
Another heavy wave of vapor clouded his camera lens.
“What the hell?” Richard Kidd muttered angrily. He lowered the camera and the knife, then turned toward the open door.
