The footfalls stopped outside her door. She froze as she waited for a knock. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw the knob move. Someone was trying to open the door.
She lurched up and out of bed, afraid she hadn’t locked the door even when she knew she had. Her cell phone ringing made her jump. Who could be calling her this late? Finn? They’d exchanged numbers earlier, but she didn’t recognize the incoming number. She looked from the phone to the door and back before she answered.
“Hello?” she asked in a whisper. Of course it wasn’t Finn. Why would he call if he was standing right outside her door? She could hear the sound of muffled voices in the background. “Hello?” she said a little louder. It was probably a robocall.
She tried to call the number back, but it went straight to an automated voice mail.
She disconnected, her gaze going to her door. She moved toward it, debating what to do. She hadn’t heard whoever had been outside leave. She thought about grabbing the straight-backed chair and shoving it under the knob.
Whoever she’d heard coming down the hallway, whoever had tried to open the door, whoever it had been was now still standing just outside. She moved to her purse on the entry table. Slipping her hand in, she closed it around the gun handle. Flipping off the safety, she stepped to the door, listening the whole time. Could she hear someone breathing on the other side? Or just feel them out there?
Quietly, she unlocked the door, grabbed the knob and flung it open, gun ready.
It took an instant for her eyes to send the message to her brain. The hand holding the gun trembled. The hallway was empty.
She felt a cold draft curl around her neck. Heart hammering, she stepped back into the room and closed and locked the door again. She stood for a moment, telling herself that she’d only imagined the footfalls in the hallway. Only imagined someone standing outside her room. Only imagined that cold gust of air that had circled her neck almost...teasingly.
Then she pushed the chair against the doorknob and took the gun with her back to bed. She knew she wasn’t going to be able to sleep a wink.
SHIRLEY HAD DRAGGED Jen away from the fire more easily than she’d expected. But Jen was determined they were going to stay at the hotel, so they’d gotten the extra bottle of wine and their overnight bags from the car and headed inside to find a room for the night.
Once in bed, Shirley had tried to relax. She had no desire to see Megan’s ghost, she thought as she lay in bed listening to Jen snore. She’d spent that summer steering clear of Megan. After growing up with eight siblings, she’d learned to disappear when possible. If not that, then how to duck and weave when one of her brothers or sisters was on the fight and looking for someone to take their anger out on.
She’d recognized that mean streak in Megan right away. It was hidden under a thin veneer of smiles and small kindnesses. She knew better than to take the bait. Owing Megan would be very costly.
Because she steered clear and declined even the smallest of seemingly nice gestures and presents, Megan eventually came hunting for her. Like the cat who’d mangled all the other mice and needed a new toy, Megan came after her with a vengeance. The more Shirley hid, the more determined Megan was to corner her.
It became a game, one Megan had clearly relished. She would go out of her way to do something nice for Shirley in front of the others to force her to accept. Shirley would decline, saying that brand of lotion made her break out, she couldn’t eat candy because of a tooth that had been bothering her, she couldn’t take that expensive blouse Megan no longer liked because the color was all wrong for her.
Pretty soon everyone was watching—waiting and watching. By then they all knew how treacherous Megan could be when she wasn’t getting the satisfaction she demanded.
Shirley had known it would end badly. There was no way it couldn’t, she’d learned from experience. The harder Megan tried to get to her, the more frustrated she got. Megan had grown tired of tormenting the others. There was no one left but Shirley.
One of them was going down.
CLAUDE STOOD WATCHING the flames die to embers, knowing he should leave. Coming here had been a mistake, he thought as he glanced at the dark, hulking form of the hotel beyond the faint firelight.
Most everyone was probably in bed already asleep by now. Only a few lights glinted from inside. The structure had taken on an eerie, skeletal look that would have frightened him ten years ago. Nothing could scare him now, he told himself. Not even Megan’s ghost.
He studied the backlit windows and saw no faces. No one cared enough to watch him. Everyone had left the fire earlier, ignoring him as they walked away and disappeared inside. He glanced toward the woods. He had to go back in there. As he slipped away from the fire, just as he had that night, he thought he might have forgotten how to find the exact spot where Megan had died. Bludgeoned to death with a rock. At least that was the theory, since the rock had never been found.
But even in the pitch black inside the pines, he made his way to where he’d last seen her. It was his amazing brain. It could hold unreal amounts of information and not explode. He could remember everything, which in this case was a curse.
Standing where her blood had drained into the soil, he was reminded of the scrap of paper
