“Twenty.”
“Uh-huh,” Alma Trent said. She had a no-bones way of speaking, but her eyes weren’t unkind. Without knowing she was doing it, Viv glanced and saw she wore no wedding ring. “You from around here?” the cop asked.
“Huh?” Stupid, she sounded so stupid.
“Here.” The cop made a circle with her index finger. “Around here. Are you from it?”
“No, ma’am. Officer Trent. I’m from Illinois.” Viv closed her eyes. “I’m sorry I sound like this. It’s been a long night. I’ve never talked to a policeman—woman—before.”
“That’s a nice sort of person to be,” Officer Trent said, again not unkindly. “The kind who has never talked to the police, I mean. You’re the night girl, I take it?”
This time, she sounded slightly less idiotic. “Yes.”
“On shift every night?”
“Yes, though I get one night a week off.”
“Worked here long?” The questions were rapid-fire, probably to help Viv keep her thoughts straight. It was working.
“Four weeks,” Viv said, and then she realized she couldn’t remember the last time she’d looked at a calendar, taken note of what day it was. “Five, maybe.”
“You called us in before?”
“No.”
“First time, then.” It was conversational, but Officer Trent’s gaze didn’t leave Viv. “No disturbances until now?”
“No.” Unless you counted the lights going out, the ghosts coming out, and whatever had been lurking in the AMENITIES room. Run. Viv cleared her throat and tried not to shudder. “It’s usually quiet here.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet,” the cop said. “We sometimes get calls about hookers and dealers out here. You see anything like that?”
Was she supposed to tell on her employer? What if she got fired? She saw hookers and dealers every day; if Alma Trent didn’t know that, she wasn’t a very good cop. “I don’t know,” Viv said. “It kind of seems like none of my business.”
“A philosopher, I see,” Officer Trent said. “You’ll fit right in at the Sun Down.” She gave Viv a smile and leaned back in her chair. “I work nights, so it’s usually me who gets the call. Drug deals, drunk and disorderly, fights, domestics, runaway teenagers. That’s the kind of thing that happens out here. If you’ve been here five weeks, I think you have the idea.”
Viv sat up in her chair. For a second, the ghosts were forgotten. “You work nights? Do you like it?”
Alma shrugged. “I’m the only woman at the station, so they put me on nights and they won’t take me off,” she said matter-of-factly. “They probably want me to quit, but I haven’t yet. Turns out I sort of like the night shift. To tell the truth, I barely remember what daytime looks like, and I don’t miss it.”
“I’m barely even tired anymore,” Viv said.
Alma nodded. “They say it’s bad for you, but then again, everything’s bad for you. Soda, cigarettes, you name it. If you don’t have a body like Olivia Newton-John’s, then you’re doing something wrong. Personally, I don’t buy it. I think it’s instructive to be awake in the middle of the night every once in a while. To really see what you’re missing while you’re usually sleeping.”
“Not everything you see is good,” Viv said.
“No, definitely not.” Alma smiled. “You seem like a nice girl. The Sun Down is a little rough for you, isn’t it?”
“The people aren’t so bad.” The living ones, anyway. She chose her words carefully. She didn’t even know Officer Trent, but it felt good to talk to someone, even for a few minutes. “I left home. I just wanted to be alone for a while, I guess.”
“Fell is a good place for that.” Alma stood up.
She had walked most of the way to the office door when Viv said, “Who died in the pool?”
Alma stopped, turned. Her mouth was set in a line. “What?”
Viv took a breath, smelled smoke again. For God’s sake, call an ambulance! The voice had been right here in this room, not two feet away. Alma Trent had to know. “Someone died in the pool, right? A kid.”
“Where did you hear that?” Alma’s voice was sharp, cautious.
Viv made herself shrug. “A rumor.”
There was a long beat of silence as Alma looked at her. Then she said, “You shouldn’t believe every rumor you hear. But yes, a boy died in the pool two years ago. Hit his head on the side of the pool, he went unconscious, and he never woke up. But I don’t know how you could have heard that, since Janice never talks about it and Henry can’t have told you.”
“Henry?” Viv asked.
“The man who worked here at the time,” Alma said. “He was the one who called it in. He had a heart attack six months later.” She pointed to Viv. “He was sitting in that very chair.”
Viv was silent. She thought she might be sick.
“Someday you’re going to tell me how you knew that,” Officer Trent said. “Those aren’t the worst things that have happened here. But I think you guessed that, too.” She nodded. “Have a nice night, Vivian Delaney. Call me if you need me again.”
Fell, New York
November 2017 CARLY
They hired me. There probably weren’t very many other applicants; maybe there weren’t any at all. But I found myself at eleven o’clock at night four days later, sitting in the Sun Down’s office with a miserable man named Chris, learning the job of night clerk. Chris was about fifty, and he said he was the son of the motel’s original owners. He wore a blue plaid flannel shirt and high-waisted jeans, and he was as unhappy as any guy I’d ever met, even in high school. Misery came off him like a smell.
“Keys are in here,” he said, opening the desk drawer. “We never changed to an electronic card system, because that costs a lot of money. We have problems with electronics in this place, anyway. We tried a booking computer for a while, but it never worked, and eventually it
