Chapter 29

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Lennox

It's all over in a few hours.

The library is quiet, the skylight above dark. My kit is spread out on the table, but I'm nearly done for the night. Right now, I'm just helping with the filming.

The last two scenes.

I don't know how it always ends so quickly. The first scenes take so long, involve so much preparation and planning and discussion, and then we power through the middle, winding through long, dark, and twisted hallways, and then it's suddenly the end. Wrapping it all into a conclusion before switching to editing. I don't have much to do with that—Jamie rents a booth in a place north of here and spends days focused on that part, and all I do is sometimes pack him lunch.

And then life goes back to how it was before. Work and the gym. Gigs on Fiverr and hanging out at Randy's during more normal hours.

How it was before.

I organize my kit, moving slowly, listening to the creaks and shifts of the building, dragging in the deep musty smell and tasting the dust on the back of my tongue.

I'll miss this place.

Or maybe I'll just miss what it means. What it's become to represent to me.

All the journals are in my room. I didn't bring them back. They'll go with me. But I can't strip the artwork off the walls.

"Lennox."

My head snaps up, my smile already growing.

Reed stands six feet from me. His flashlight is turned off, his hat flipped backward, his head tilted as the light from my battery lights glows over his cheekbones.

"How long have you been standing there?" I ask.

He shrugs. "Thirty seconds."

"Thirty seconds is a long time to just be standing there."

"Well, I was staring at you." He rocks back on his heels, his lips rising. He's in full makeup, bruises and cuts, dirt and that partial black eye, which is real. "I want to show you something."

My brows go up. "Now?"

"I've got a break in filming. It's just Verity right now. She's about to die."

"Ah, the pool ball moment." I move around the table.

"Yeah, that one's pretty fucking gruesome." As I near him, he reaches out, fingers stretching for mine.

"You should tell Jamie that. He'll be proud."

"I will." He clicks on his flashlight. "I'm wondering if I'll be next."

"Jamie hasn't told you yet?"

"Nope." His eyes narrow.

"You know, don't you? Who the final person is?"

I smile. "He told me last night."

"Are you going to tell me?"

"Nope."

"Are you not telling me because it is me?"

"Nope."

Well, maybe.

We walk down the hallway back toward the lobby. He moves his light over the open doorways, as always, but it's different now. It feels like we've moved in, like we've sketched out all the empty doorways and rooms, like there's no more hidden secrets.

Except that's not true. We've only made it through half of the hotel. Secrets still hover all around us, shadows that haven't been penetrated in thirty years. I could spend a lifetime here and still not know every corner.

I won't though. It's time to move on.

Reed squeezes my fingers as we step into the lobby. "I'm gonna miss the wombat."

"You don't think it's out to get us anymore?"

"Ambiguous." He turns his light toward the basement stairs. "But I've decided to give it the benefit of the doubt, considering it hasn't eaten our faces yet. Besides, I feel bad. It's about to lose its home."

We take the first steps down, the shift to cool air raising goosebumps on my shoulders. I might feel more at home in the hallway, but the basement is still scary as hell. The twists and turns, the unexpected walls and doors. I'll never think about this place without my pulse leaping into my throat.

"I had that thought, too." I step closer to him at the bottom of the stairs, my voice lowering. "I thought we should open some doors, make sure that it can find a way out. I'm sure that it'll leave when the demolition equipment arrives."

"We could leave it some food." His light moves right, in a direction we haven't gone yet.

"I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to feed feral wombats."

He laughs. "Nobody has to know. It can be our secret."

We turn the corner, and I pause, peering down the dark hallway as he traipses on some overturned bed frames leaning along the wall.

I wrinkle my nose at the smell of something like old, dank mattresses. "Do you know where we're going?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to tell me?"

"No. It's not far."

The patter of feet echoes by us—something in the wall? Smaller than the wombat, quick and vanishing before I have a chance to fully register it. Rats or mice?

I shake my head. "You really know how to show a guy a good time."

He tips closer to me, lips close to my temple. "But I do."

We turn another corner, and lights flicker in view. Not flashlights, candles. Tiny flames bright in the darkness. They line both sides of the hallway, stretching down to a more spacious area with open silver doorways.

The elevator shaft.

The graffiti isn't just contained inside; it spills out into the surrounding area too, racing up the walls, glowing in the candlelight. It's brilliant in colors, different from the others, all laced together in so many different images that I can't sort out one. Like the complicated artwork of Reed's sleeve, designs twined together, hints of images between.

Reed flips off his flashlight.

"Holy fuck," I whisper as we walk into the area, the warm candlelight flickering. "You did this?"

"Well, the candles." He nudges me with his elbows. "Not the artwork. But come on."

He leads me through to the elevator, a tunnel of those interlocked designs all around us. They lead into the elevator shaft, another small space, and it makes me wonder why the artist chose these places. What they meant.

It's a question I'll never know the answer to. So much of this building is a mystery. And maybe I wouldn't have it any other way. Maybe it lives and breathes because it's a mystery. Because knowing all the details of reality isn't always necessary.

We stand in the center, the space above us stretching far over our heads, and it feels like we've been wrapped up in the design, under our feet and stretching up. Like we've been swallowed by artwork.

Reed's set candles all around the inside here too, surrounding us, warming our faces as I turn to face him, angled shadows under those cheekbones of his.

"Thank you." I tip my chin to study the walls. "This is the most incredible gift."

He nods. "I think I know who it was created for."

"You do?"

"Come look over here." Taking my hand, he leads me to the side of the room, pointing to a small space between the designs. There are two names drawn in a heart.

Andrew + Elijah

I search my memories, trying to place either of those names in what I learned about the hotel. "The son who was arrested for the murders."

Reed nods. "Elijah must have come here after the hotel closed, after Andrew was arrested. He must have drawn these, created the journals. That's why they have so much longing. They were apart. They didn't know if they'd ever be together again."

"Until Andrew escaped." I wonder if Elijah helped him. I wonder how much more there is to this story. "Do you think they're together? That was thirty years ago, and Andrew was our age. If they are, they'd be in their mid-fifties now."

"They're together," he says .

"Do you know for sure?"

He squeezes my fingers before releasing, just to slide his hand up my arm to cup my neck. "I won't believe anything else."

His eyes linger on me, even with the beauty around us. And it's the same for me. I don't want to take my eyes off him.

That vibration starts low in my spine. I want to know what he's thinking. How he's feeling. What this means to him. And where he wants his life to go.

He's who I'm supposed to be kissing .

I know it. I feel it. And with every new moment together, it's a confirmation. It's proof.

I drag in a slow breath. "You think they ran away together?"

"Yes," he says, the flicker of the candlelight reflected on his face. "Wouldn't you?"

I hesitate, reading so much in his eyes. It doesn't feel like we're just talking about Andrew and Elijah anymore. Maybe when we held onto those journals, we were never just talking about them.

"I would," I say. "For the right person."

He closes his eyes, breathing in deeply for a moment, before opening them again. "I would, too."