CHAPTER NINETEEN

C AIN WORKED ALL AFTERNOON . H E'D LEFT WORD HE WASN'T TO BE disturbed. His staff knew better than to disobey his orders unless it was an emergency.

At six o'clock, he went downstairs. Jenny would likely still be working. Handling two jobs required long hours. He admired her for it and only felt a little guilty. The experience and advice she brought to the Grandview were well worth the money he was paying her.

And she seemed to bring a spark of enthusiasm to the employees. They were excited to get the hotel finished and get it open.

He found her downstairs, sitting at a table in the dining room with Millicent, their heads bent over a yellow pad as Millie made notes. The two of them were smiling at each other—a surprise in itself—but when they saw him walk into the dining room, their smiles turned a little too bright.

Warning signs flashed in his head. When two smart women got together, there was a good chance they could find a way to cause trouble.

Cain walked up to the table. "Okay, what are you two up to? I can see by the looks on your faces, it doesn't bode well for me."

Millie laughed. "We've been discussing the grand-opening party. We figured we had better start planning now. That way, we'll be ready when the hotel is completed—which, according to your schedule, is less than two weeks away."

"A grand-opening party," Cain said darkly, since the notion had never occurred to him.

"That's right," Millie continued. "We need to send a message. The Grandview is open for business. It's a first-class hotel, a place to get away from your troubles, a hideaway in a little-known area that's easily accessible from Flagstaff, Sedona, Scottsdale, and Phoenix."

He fixed his gaze on Jenny, who so far hadn't added her two cents.

"I thought you could have a soft opening after that," Jenny said. "Open the restaurant and bar just to the locals and whatever tourists happen to be in town. Once you get the kinks worked out, you can start your marketing campaign."

"Marketing campaign," he repeated grimly.

Jenny and Millicent exchanged glances. "We just assumed you would want enough guests to make the hotel a success," Millie said. "Advertising is the only way anyone's going to know it's here."

She had a point. He'd thought of it more as a residence for his grandmother, but she was right. The place needed to sustain itself. "Just how much is this grand-opening party going to cost me?"

Jenny looked at Millicent.

"It won't be cheap," Millie said. "But if you can get the right people to show up, it'll be worth it. In the end, the party will pay for itself."

His gaze returned to Jenny. "Is that what you think?"

"I never had enough money to advertise the Copper Star. Fortunately, it's a well-established business in Jerome, part of the local history. And it sits in a prime location. Even so, if I could afford the cost of promotion, I would do it."

He sighed, clearly defeated. "All right, then. I'd like to see a cost breakdown for the event. If it looks workable, we'll have a grand-opening party."

Millicent and Jenny both grinned.

Cain shook his head. "I need a drink." Heading across the room, he walked behind the bar and poured himself a Johnny Walker Black. When he turned, Millicent was gone, and Jenny was walking toward him.

She looked tired, but pleased at the work she and Millie had accomplished.

"You want a drink?" he asked.

Jenny shook her head. The smile was gone from her face. "I found something in the journals today. I brought it with me so I could show you."

Cain started to say something, but his cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket, looked down, and recognized the caller ID.

"It's Chief Nolan." He pressed the phone against his ear. "Chief."

"I just wanted to let you know Leslie Owens is awake and doing very well. She's cooperating fully with the police investigation. The doctors are releasing her tomorrow."

"Thanks for letting me know. What about Brian Santana? Does the coroner's office have a cause of death?"

"From what we could tell, it looks like the two of them were fighting. The porcelain pitcher in the room got broken during the fight. Santana fell backward and landed on a big shard that went right through his ribs into his heart."

Cain grunted. "Rough way to go."

"Can you think of any good way?"

"I guess not. Thanks for the update, Chief." The call ended, and Cain turned to tell Jenny what the chief had said, but her phone rang before he got the chance.

Jenny looked down at the screen. "It's Nolan." She greeted him and listened, probably getting the same information as Cain.

"I'm so glad to hear Leslie's going to be okay," Jenny said into the phone. "Is she able to have visitors?" She nodded. "That's good. Thank you so much for letting me know."

"Good news," Cain said as the call ended. Clearly, the chief had spared her the details of Santana's death, for which Cain was grateful.

"The chief says Leslie Owens is awake. I need to talk to her, Cain. I need to know what happened in that room."

He frowned. "The police won't like you interfering in their investigation."

Ignoring him, Jenny brought up Google on her cell phone. "It's still visiting hours at the hospital. I'm driving down to Cottonwood to see Leslie. I'm hoping she'll tell me what happened."

He felt a pang, knowing Jenny had taken the murder personally, believing it was somehow her fault. "You know what happened, love. Leslie killed the man who attacked her."

"I want to know why he attacked her, how it happened. I read something in one of the journals today. Something that might be important."

He frowned. "You read something that happened in room ten?"

"Yes. It was years ago, before Uncle Charlie closed that section of the hotel. I'll tell you about it when I get back from the hospital. I don't want to miss the chance to see Leslie."

"I'll drive you. You can tell me about it on the way."

"What about your grandmother? I thought you'd be having dinner with her since it's her first night here."

"I was hoping you and I could both have dinner with her, but she's used to my unpredictable schedule. We'll do it tomorrow night instead."

"Okay, if you're sure."

"I'm sure this is going to be an interesting evening. Grab your purse, and let's go."

* * *

Jenny sat in the passenger seat of Cain's silver Dodge truck as he drove down the mountain toward the Verde Valley Medical Center in Cottonwood.

She had given Cain a brief description of what was written in the journal. He appeared unimpressed.

"So this passage you read . . . some woman wrote about the night she had spent in the hotel."

"That's right." The journal was in her purse, but she wasn't ready to share the actual words. She wasn't quite sure why.

"You said her husband got violent and tried to choke her."

"Mary Dennison. Her husband's name was Don."

"All right. Then Don woke up and begged her to forgive him. Mary said it was totally out of character for him to behave that way."

"That was the general drift. She said her husband had never acted that way before. She said it was as if another man had invaded her husband's body. Those were her words. She said his eyes looked black and empty. That he didn't even look like the same man."

Cain kept his gaze on the road, his hands on the wheel as the truck took the long grade down the mountain to the flat desert lands below. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to the elbows, exposing the tattoo on his left arm.

It was a crossed pick and shovel beneath a skull wearing a hard hat. A miner's tattoo, for sure. She wanted to know the story behind it, but it never seemed the right time to ask.

"So what are you thinking?" he said. "That there was some sort of entity in the room that was responsible for the attack on Don Dennison's wife?"

She could hear the disbelief in his voice. Maybe that was the reason she hadn't read the passage aloud.

"I don't know. Maybe. I want to hear what Leslie Owens has to say."

"Fine. For the moment, we'll leave it at that."

Jenny flicked him a glance. "Thank you."

Cain just grunted.

They didn't say more as he drove the last few miles and arrived at their destination. The predicted weekend storm loomed on the horizon, thick gray clouds rolling in, beginning to pile up overhead.

They made their way toward the entrance, walking beneath the portico of a beige-and-white stucco structure into the lobby. The main part of the hospital stood four stories high, an impressive white building that dominated the desert around it.

Behind the front desk, a short, blond nurse in scrubs sat at a computer. She looked up as they approached.

"May I help you?"

"We're looking for a patient named Leslie Owens," Cain said.

The nurse gave him a once-over, a hint of color rising in her cheeks. Clearly, she liked what she saw. Jenny couldn't blame her.

"Let me take a look," the nurse said, typing in the information. "Yes, here it is. Second floor, room two-eighteen."

Cain smiled. "Thanks . . ." His gaze went to the tag on her very impressive chest. "Caroline."

Her face flushed even brighter. "If there's anything else you need, please just let me know."

"Will do. Thanks again."

They headed for the elevators. "You're a handy man to have around," Jenny said, with only a hint of sarcasm.

Cain flashed one of his rare grins as he led her to the elevator and pushed the button. It quickly whisked them upward, and they walked out onto the second floor. The door to room 218 stood open.

With a glance inside, Jenny recognized Leslie's mother, Aida, sitting at her daughter's bedside. Aida was a woman in her fifties, with blond hair going gray and a warm smile. She rose and crossed the room to greet them.

"Hello, Jenny," Aida said. "It's nice to see you again."

"We heard the good news." Glancing toward the bed, Jenny took in Leslie's pale, battered face, the puffy black-and-blue eyes, the bandage around her forehead.

"How's she doing?" Cain asked.

Aida smiled. "Why don't you ask her yourself? I'll go join my sister in the cafeteria for a cup of coffee. If I don't see you later, thanks for helping my daughter."

Jenny just nodded. "I'm so glad she's going to be okay." Aida left, and Jenny walked over and sat down in the chair next to the bed. Cain waited beside the open door.

Jenny reached out and took hold of Leslie's hand. It felt cool but not icy, a good sign, Jenny thought.

Leslie's eyes opened and swung in Jenny's direction. "I remember you . . . from the hotel."

"That's right. I'm the owner, Jenny Spencer. The man by the door is Cain Barrett. He's a friend."

Her gaze swung toward Cain, but she didn't greet him.

"Chief Nolan called to tell us you are going to be okay," Jenny said. "He told us the doctors would be releasing you tomorrow or the next day."

"The sooner the better," Leslie said. "I just want to go home."

"I'm so sorry about what happened. The hotel belongs to me, but it's also where I live. If you're feeling up to it, maybe you'd be willing to tell me about that night. I'd really like to understand."

Leslie shifted on the mattress, trying to get comfortable. "I can tell you, but I don't know if you'll believe me. I don't think Chief Nolan believed all of it."

"Try me," Jenny said.

"Could you press the button, so that I can sit up a little more in the bed?"

"Of course." Jenny adjusted the bed, as well as the pillow behind Leslie's back, then waited quietly for her to begin.

"Brian and I didn't really know each other all that well," Leslie said. "We'd been corresponding through email for several weeks before we met and went out on a date. I liked Brian, and it seemed as if he really liked me. We were strongly attracted to each other, so we decided to spend some time together. Brian booked a two-night stay at the Copper Star, which was just far enough away from Phoenix to make it feel special, kind of a two-day getaway."

"I remember seeing you when you and Brian checked in."

Leslie's eyes filled. She wiped away tears with the back of her hand.

"We both liked the hotel right away. You could tell it had been remodeled, but it still had a cozy historical feel. We went out for supper, but came back early. We wanted to be together, you know? So, after dinner, we went up to the room. Brian had drunk a little more than he usually did. He was nervous, I think. We were still in the first stages of a relationship." More tears fell.

Jenny reached over, pulled a tissue out of the box, and handed it to Leslie, who dabbed it beneath her eyes.

"We fell asleep after we . . . made love. Everything was perfect until . . ." She shook her head. "I'm not exactly sure what happened. I remember something woke me in the middle of the night. I don't know what it was, but at first I thought there was someone in the room."

She dabbed at her tears. "The moon was out that night. The door to the bathroom stood open. I could see there was no one in there or anywhere else in the room."

When Leslie didn't continue, Jenny squeezed her hand. "What happened then?"

"I realized Brian was . . . was also awake. He was sitting up in bed, staring straight ahead. The next thing I knew, he was on top of me, gripping my wrists next to my head, pressing me down in the mattress. I-I told him to let me go, that he was hurting me, but all he did was laugh. Then he slapped me, and I knew I was in trouble. I tried to scream, but he covered my mouth with his hand."

"You must have fought him," Jenny said.

"I-I struggled. Somehow I managed to shove him off me. I ran for the door, but Brian . . . Brian was right behind me. I grabbed the pitcher on the dresser and smashed it over his head, but it . . . it didn't stop him. He just whirled me around and shoved me back down on the bed."

Leslie swallowed and dabbed at fresh tears. "Brian started hitting me over and over. Then he climbed on top of me and he . . . and he . . ." She glanced away.

"He forced you to have sex," Jenny said, remembering the journal.

Leslie's hazel eyes found hers. "Yes. I could feel his fingers wrapping around my throat, and I thought he was going to kill me."

"How did you get away?" Cain asked. Jenny hadn't heard him approach.

Leslie blew her nose. "I'm not exactly sure. When he started hitting me with his fists, I remember thinking I had to do something or I was going to die. I shoved him as hard as I could and jumped out of bed, but then I tripped and fell, and I guess I hit my head. That's the last thing I remember."

Jenny felt a burn behind her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Leslie."

"I remember thinking this man . . . this man couldn't be Brian. He was vicious and cruel. His eyes were like two black holes, and his features were twisted. He was trying to kill me, and I had no idea why." Leslie started crying.

Jenny leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Whatever happened, it wasn't your fault." She thought about the journal. "Maybe it wasn't even Brian's."

Their eyes met and held. "You . . . you believe me?"

"Yes," Jenny said, and her own eyes welled with tears. "Take care of yourself."

Leslie just nodded.

Cain was waiting when Jenny reached the door. He didn't say anything, just took hold of her hand and led her back to the elevator.

Neither of them spoke on the way to the truck.