Turning, she ran down the hallway to the registration desk. She was only mildly surprised that the keys to room 33 weren’t in their slot. She rushed into the office for her spare passkey. It was gone. Finn probably had it. That was an unsettling thought. It meant he could get into any room at any time.
Where was he? In his room? She headed for the stairs. As she climbed, she realized that Finn must have smelled Megan’s perfume in the staff hallway. Why else had he left the note to meet him down there? He would know Megan’s perfume. But if he had the passkey, then why hadn’t he opened Megan’s old room?
Casey swore under her breath. She was going to put an end to this as soon as she could get into that room. If she got there in time. She feared that with all this wasted effort, any evidence in the room would be gone.
Storming up the stairs, she was almost to the top of the staircase when she looked up and saw Finn. Startled, she heard him say “Where’s the fire? Sorry, bad joke, and not funny in an old hotel like this.”
Her head had jerked up and, taken by surprise, she lost both her momentum and her balance. As she began to fall backward down the staircase, she’d grabbed for the railing, but it was too far away to reach. Her arms windmilled as she frantically tried to grasp anything to stop her from falling.
Suddenly Finn’s warm, strong hand closed over her wrist. For a few seconds, the two of them were suspended on the top edge of the towering staircase before he pulled them both up and onto the landing.
“What the hell, Casey?” he demanded, breathing hard as if his heart was drumming like her own. She could hear the fear in his voice. That had been too close. Had she been any more off balance, they both would have been plummeting down the stairs at this moment.
FINN’S BLOOD WAS pounding in his ears. He could see that Casey was visibly shaken as well. He drew her away from the stairs, trying to slow his thundering pulse. Gripping both of her upper arms in his hands, he turned her to face him. “What is going on?” he demanded.
She blinked, looking even more upset than she’d been when he’d seen her on the stairs. “Your note.”
He stared at her as if she were speaking a language he didn’t recognize. “What note?”
She reached into her pocket and shoved the note at him. Taking it, he unfolded the paper and read the words, then looked up at her, his gaze meeting hers. “I didn’t write this. This isn’t my handwriting.”
“You weren’t on the staff wing? You weren’t in room 33?” she demanded.
He let go of her. “No. Why would I have gone—” He stopped and sighed. “Megan’s old room?” He knew it was her room, and she knew he knew. “What happened?” His voice came out a little high, the scare on the stairs still fresh.
“I...I smelled her perfume.” He didn’t have to ask. He remembered Megan’s signature perfume. She wore it all the time. That smell had haunted him many a lonely night as a teenager. “If you didn’t leave the note...” He could hear the doubt in her voice.
“Someone did who knew you would come down there if I asked you.” He saw that his words hit home. She would have come because she trusted him. Because she had every reason to trust him. “Where were you headed in such a hurry?”
“I was looking for you. I assume you have my grandmother’s passkey. I want to open the door to that room before anyone destroys any evidence they might have left behind.”
He looked at her, remembering the creepy things that had happened in the months he’d been here alone. “I have the passkey in my room. I didn’t want to leave it at the main desk.” He sighed again and raked a hand through his hair. “You can’t think I had something to do with this.”
They’d reached his room. He stepped inside. It took him a moment to locate the key. He turned to her, holding the passkey on the once-red, now-faded ribbon that her grandmother used to wear around her neck. “Let’s go check room 33. Unless you don’t trust me to go with you.”
“I don’t know what to think right now.”
He handed her the passkey. She put it around her neck. It upset him that she didn’t trust him. “Good idea keeping it around your neck,” he joked. “What are the chances I would ever get it off you?”
She shot him an unamused look. “Yes, what are the chances?”
He walked with her down to number 33. He’d gone to the room when he’d first gotten to the hotel. He’d had the crazy idea that he’d pick up some vibe, some sense of Megan. It was ridiculous. For years after her death, other staff had lived and breathed in that room after it had been fine-combed by the cops and then cleaned hundreds of times. He hadn’t found Megan in there any more than he’d found her anyplace else in this hotel.
Casey used the passkey to open the door. As it swung open, he caught the once-familiar scent. His reaction was like a punch to the gut. He stood frozen in the doorway as Casey entered the room and began to search it.
No wonder she’d reacted the way she had. The perfume was so Megan. He could picture her, all confidence and defiance. Poor little rich girl. Wasn’t that what someone on the staff had called her? While she’d complained about her life, he’d always thought that she didn’t have
