“I’m so sorry,” Mom said for probably what was the hundredth time as she followed the Wilkins and their luggage to the front door. “If there—”
“You’ve done enough,” Mr. Wilkins said. “You helped us find a new hotel. You’ve done all that you can.”
I hadn’t heard Mrs. Wilkins say a word, but I’d seen her with her husband when they first appeared in the entry. Her face was leeched of all color, and I knew she was thinking that what she’d smelled in her room was a dead body in the next. That was pretty horrifying. Seeing it would be yet another image I would never erase from my mind.
That poor woman . . .
I’d seen her face.
Her eyes had been open, wide and fixed. Her face frozen in horror, gaping in a silent scream.
I closed my eyes as I leaned against the wall just inside the dining room. I could hear Mom at the desk now. The Wilkinses were gone. She was calling incoming guests and cancelling. I tried calling James to tell him he wasn’t needed for the next couple of days, but he hadn’t answered. All I could do was leave a voicemail.
There was no other choice. The inn was a crime scene. A body was still upstairs, in the bathtub, and even once everything was gone, we couldn’t allow people to stay here. Not when it was obviously unsafe.
Tyron was here, as were the FBI agents. I’d already given them my statement. Cole was on his way back from Baltimore. He’d mentioned something about taking leave, but I didn’t remember the specifics.
I heard my mom apologizing again.
Moving to one of the dining room chairs, I sat down and placed my head in my hand. I should be the one out there dealing with the fallout, because this—all of this—was because of me.
There was no denying it.
This wasn’t an “everything is about me” party. This was the reality. There was a dead woman, a woman who briefly served me dinner, upstairs in a bathtub, beaten and bloody.
“Sasha.”
I looked up at the sound of Tyron’s voice and lowered my hand to the table.
“You hanging in there?” he asked, approaching slowly. When I nodded, he stopped behind a chair, gripping the back of it. “Cole’s on his way?”
I nodded again.
“Coroners are on the way,” he said quietly. “They’re going to remove the body, but that’s the extent of what they’re going to do. Okay? I went ahead and contacted a company that specializes in biohazards for you. The earliest they can come is tomorrow morning. I’d suggest you just keep that door closed until they arrive.”
“Okay.” I sat back, folding my hands in my lap. “Do you . . . do you know if she was killed here?”
“It doesn’t appear to be that way. With the kind of wounds she suffered, there’d be more blood if she was murdered here.” Pausing, he sat down in the chair. “She was stabbed, Sasha.”
I bit down on my lip. “How long do you think she was here?”
“What’s left behind is mostly fluids from decomp. Time of death right now is going to have to wait on the autopsy. With the heat jacked up in the room and her body partially submerged, it’s going to make it hard to determine, but we think she’s been in that bathtub for at least a day or two.”
Acids in my stomach churned. She’d been in that bathtub for a day or two. Oh God, I couldn’t . . .
“I know you’re dealing with a lot right now. You’re probably feeling numb, but I need to ask you a couple of more questions, okay?”
Swallowing, I nodded for a third time. “I understand.”
He leaned forward, resting an arm on the table. “What we’re guessing is that someone moved the body in here at night. You have an alarm. Who knows the code?”
“Not many. My mom,” I said. “James Jordan—our chef. So did Angela and Daphne. But that’s it.”
“Do you think there is a chance that someone moved her in here before you set the alarm?” he asked.
“It’s . . . it’s possible. We don’t watch the entrances, but I think we’d hopefully notice someone carrying in . . . in a body through the front doors.” I reached up, tucking my hair back. “The only other way would be through the back entrance. Someone could carry someone in that way, up the back stairs, and not be seen, but we keep that door locked and the tunnel leading into the cellar is closed off.”
“Is it possible that someone could’ve gained a key to the back entrance?”
My first response was to say no but it wasn’t impossible. “Nothing is impossible.”
“You keep extras with the rest of the keys in the back room?” he asked.
When I nodded, he patted the table and told me he would be back down. Tyron made good on his words when he walked back through the dining room with another officer and the forensic investigator who’d been here before.
Then I was alone, and I didn’t know for how long. All I could think about was the fact that someone had been in here again without our knowledge, but this time they weren’t just snatching a key. They were carrying a body upstairs.
Could it be Currie?
He’d been here yesterday morning. Maybe he grabbed a key and made a copy at some point. God knows how many times he’d used that entrance before I’d run into him. He could’ve taken her upstairs, found an empty room and left her body there, jacking up the heat before leaving—leaving and coming to me.
If it wasn’t him, then was it the mayor? Killing someone and leaving their body here was enough to make me want to leave, but again, his involvement made no sense.
Footsteps snagged my attention, and I lifted my head.
Cole appeared in the doorway, his jaw a hard line and eyes icy. He said nothing as he stormed forward, brushing Myers aside. I hadn’t even realized the agent had entered the room. How long had he been there?
I honestly didn’t care about him at the moment.
I rose and went to Cole, meeting him halfway. His arms came around me, his fingers digging deep in my hair.
Pressing my face against his chest, I felt the burn in my throat and behind my eyes, but the tears didn’t come. No matter how tight Cole held me or how hard I squeezed him back.
But I wasn’t numb.
I was scared.
“I want you to pack a couple of days’ worth of clothes.” Cole was standing in the center of the kitchen. Twenty minutes ago, the FBI agents had filed out. “Same with your mom. She can stay in my guest room. Tomorrow, when the cleanup company is scheduled to come over, I’ll meet them here.”
I nodded slowly, this time not arguing. I didn’t want to stay here. Even with the . . . the body gone, this place, as terrible as it was to admit, was tainted for me. I knew, or at least I hoped, it would fade one day. It had to, but right now, I needed the distance.
So did Mom.
“She’s not going to be happy with it,” I said, placing the salad Mom had been making in the trash. “But I agree. We both need to get out of here.”
“It’ll do you both some good.” He leaned against the island while I grabbed the cutting board and took it to the sink. “But it’s more than that, Sasha.”
My stomach tightened as I added the board to the bowls and turned on the water. “I know.”
He was quiet for a moment. “I don’t want to scare you.”
Swallowing, I looked over my shoulder. “I’m already scared. You can’t scare me anymore.”
The skin around his lips tensed. “Sasha—”
“I know.” I turned back to the sink and picked up the sponge. “I know what is happening,” I said, scrubbing at the bowls. “I know that Angela and the woman from Frederick suffered horrible deaths. I know that the woman—that Liz—died in a horrific way. It doesn’t matter if it’s a copycat or if it’s someone who was working with the Groom ten years ago. They all died in horrible ways.”
“Stop,” he said quietly.
Turning the bowl over and running it under clean water, I kept going. “And I know that whoever is doing this is going to come for me. I know.” My throat dried. “Or maybe he won’t. Maybe he’s just doing this because—”
“Sasha.”
“Because I got away.” My voice cracked as I picked up another bowl. “Maybe this is punishment. Maybe—”
“Stop,” he said, closer. “Stop and look at me.”
“I need to clean these dishes,” I told him, clearing my throat. “I don’t want to come back to a bunch of dirty dishes. And I don’t want Mom—”
“Babe . . .”
Inhaling slowly, I squinted at the bowl. Was that a seed stuck? I started scrubbing again. “I’m almost done and then I will go pack—”
Cole reached around and turned off the water. Then he took the sponge from my hand and tossed it into the sink. “These bowls can’t get any cleaner.”
I stared at the bowls. He was right. They were pretty clean. My hands fell to the rim of the sink.
He turned me in his arms. Two fingers curled around my chin, and he lifted my gaze to his. “This isn’t punishment.”
A knot was at the base of my throat. “It’s not?”
“No.”
“Can you really think that?” My voice was hoarse. “Let’s be real with each other, because I need to be real with myself. This started when I decided to come home, or maybe someone was doing this all along, but they’ve changed their pattern. They are making it known now. They’re making sure I know they are here. Why else would this be happening now? It has to do with me and the only reason I can think of—”
Glass shattered from the dining room, and I spun around. Cole beat me to the door first, shoving it open, and I was right behind him. An anguished cry tore free as I saw my mom on the dining room floor.
Cole was immediately at her side, whipping his phone out of his pocket.
“Mom,” I cried out, dropping to my knees beside her. My heart pounded sickeningly fast as I reached out and felt her skin. It was cool and clammy. “Mom!”
Her face was incredibly pale, a sickly shade, and there was no response. Nothing. There was nothing.