this place if it did burn to the ground? And how could she manage the destruction without ending up in prison herself, or getting someone hurt? There had to be another way.
“Nervous?”
“Of going inside?” She shook her head. “Just worried about how this will all end.”
“Can’t torch the place, if that’s what you’re thinking.” His gaze rose as well. “Not that anyone would miss this dump.”
Cait smiled. In some ways, they were on the same page. More alike than not, if she thought about it. They were both mulishly stubborn. Both kept their hearts cloaked behind brittle shields. And Sam had missed her every bit as much as she’d missed him during their long split.
The proof had been in the photographs. Even though they’d rushed through getting showered and dressed, with her climbing back into yesterday’s clothes because they didn’t have time to hit her apartment, she’d paused long enough to note the pictures. One of her on his nightstand, uncharacteristically smiling for the camera at her old desk in homicide. A picture of her and Sam, both wearing PD T-shirts at a family-day picnic. On Beale Street, standing under the red, white, and black Blues City Cafe sign. All happy moments. Always with a smile. Because they’d been so fleeting, she couldn’t remember the happy times as well as she could the sad.
Sam touched her elbow. “Look, you don’t have to come with me.”
Summoning a smile she didn’t feel, she met his questioning glance. “But then you couldn’t stay on my ass and make sure I don’t take rides in the elevator with demons.” She touched his sleeve. “You be careful too,” she added softly, then led the way inside.
Things were hopping. Two clerks staffed the front desk. New arrivals were being processed. Looked like business as usual. Odd in a place where numerous bodies had been dug out of the walls. Hadn’t these people read the newspapers?
Mr. Lewis, looking rested, his posture held straighter than on the previous days, walked toward them. “I need those rooms. We’re getting calls for bookings from as far away as California. Reservations. And they’re all requesting that floor. I’ve got repairmen lined up to fix the holes your people left as soon as you clear out.”
Cait eyed him, wondering if he was the demon. Then wondering why a demon couldn’t manage a more imposing figure.
“Sir, we’re working as fast as we can,” Sam said, his voice calm and firm.
Mr. Lewis’s gray brows bunched together over his faded eyes. “I’ve spoken to your director of police. He has assured me you’ll be out of here by tonight. There’s nothing more to be learned. You have your evidence. Your bodies.”
“Looks like all this fuss is good for business,” Cait murmured.
The old man’s glance was sharper than she expected, nearly making her take a step backward.
“Damn curiosity seekers. It’s all your fault. Letting that film crew up there. Staging that ridiculous display. It’s all over the Internet.”
Cait’s stomach dropped, wondering whether the crew had posted everything they had. She was particularly worried about the part where she appeared to be talking to herself. Leland wouldn’t be pleased because then he’d have to defend his decision to hire a crazy person.
Sam’s hand touched the small of her back, and he ushered her forward. “We’ll get back with you before we leave. Give you an estimate of how much longer we’ll be.”
“You do that,” Mr. Lewis called after them. “But don’t be surprised if the plug gets pulled for you.”
In the elevator, Sam shot her a glare. “Leland’s going to put that all on you.”
For a split second, Cait closed her eyes. “Don’t forget, you were there too. Right beside me, while I was talking to the air. You’re gonna look like you’re as big a flake as I am.”
“Dammit, Cait. Why didn’t you sit on those guys?”
Her teeth ground before she spoke. “Because you kicked me off the case.” But the erstwhile TV crew had been the least of her worries.
The door to the Reel PIs room was propped wide open.
Cait glanced inside to find the space teeming with black T-shirted dorks, the Reel PIs logo prominent on their chests.
Clayton gave her a cheerful wave. “We’re a hit,” he shouted over the din. “Discovery and The CW have called.”
At Cait’s frown, he rushed over. “Don’t worry, Cait. I edited bits. Just aired the part where we’re running down the hall, and the swirling vortex. Doesn’t mean I won’t want to interview you for that episode.”
Cait didn’t know whether to sigh in relief or grimace. “Really think it’s going to happen? A TV show?”
“We’ve had more than three hundred thousand hits since we posted this morning. That was Mina’s idea. I didn’t want to give away anything until we had the clips edited. But she said what with the case making the major networks and the story plastered all over the newspapers, the time to strike was now.”
Sam’s hand clamped hard on one side of her hip. “I’m glad for you,” he growled. “But how the hell did all these folks get in here?”
Clayton waggled his eyebrows. “All crew members of Reel PIs, Inc., were cleared for admittance. These guys had to buy our T-shirts. Walked right past the cops.”
Cait and Sam shared a glance. She pressed her lips together to keep from congratulating him on his chutzpah.
Sam shook his head, a dire warning in his darkened glare. “I’d better check that hall. Make sure no one slipped past. We don’t want any more excitement.” His hand dropped from her side.
“What the hell is goin’ on here?” Leland’s voice rang imperiously from the doorway.
Cait pursed her lips. Shit was about to hit the fan. With an effort, she cleared her expression and turned.
His cheeks were florid, and both fists curled at his sides. “I want everyone out of here now!”
Sam went to the door, standing there as folks trailed out.
Cait indicated to Clayton that he, Booger, and Mina should stay put.
When the last of their fans exited, she faced Leland, schooling her expression and wincing inside.
He drew a deep breath, staring daggers straight at her. “It’s all over the damn Internet. Director’s on my ass to get this thing sewn up tight.” He turned to Sam. “You’re the one in charge here. How the hell did that footage get leaked?”
“It’s my fault. I didn’t confiscate their recordings.” A muscle in Sam’s jaw ticked.
Clayton cleared his throat. “Sir, we’re within our rights—”
Leland’s head swiveled sharply. “This is a goddamn crime scene. Already had an earful from the manager downstairs. Told him he’d get his hotel back when I was good and ready to release it.”
Cait sucked in a deep breath. Alarm bells rang. If he’d been that forceful in the foyer, anyone might have heard. She could think of at least one entity who wouldn’t be happy about the fact life wasn’t returning to normal in the foreseeable future.
No sooner had that thought slipped past than the floor beneath their feet began to vibrate. A hum sounded, louder than the one that had sounded right before she’d been electrocuted.
Her glance went to Sam, still standing in the doorway. His gaze locked with hers, and after another violent shudder, he spread his hands to hold the door frame.
Equipment bounced on mattresses and tables, then crashed to the floor, some plastic cases splintering.
Cait stood, barely balancing herself as the shaking intensified.
“Earthquake?” Leland shouted, bracing a hand on a wall.
She shook her head. So much worse. She could feel it in her bones. “Can’t you smell it?”
Sulfur. A thick noxious cloud of yellow fog began pouring through the vents, quickly obscuring the room.
Hand over hand, she grabbed along the edge of the dresser, needing to get to the hallway. Needing to get closer to Sam because above the loud rattling she heard long, wailing cries. Echoes of the dead.
The floor rolled beneath her feet, and she stumbled to her knees. She crawled forward through the noxious cloud, bumping into Leland, who sat on his ass beside the bed, a look of pure horror on his face.
“Sam!” She kept crawling, found the doorway, and moved outside.
The hall was clear of fog, quiet and empty. A flash of light burst farther down the hallway. A door slammed
