Chapter 2

2

She still hadn't figured him out. Meyra had spent two hours in the kitchen, just thinking.

And getting nowhere. She was just going to have to give up. Again.

Now, she was going to go to bed and try to sleep. Somehow. She slipped outside behind the family kitchen, trash in hand, and tossed it into the inn's main dumpster.

That was when she heard it.

Meyra froze. Listened again.

There was something outside. She'd heard something. She was sure of it. Something that shouldn't be there. It was only nine—extremely early for the rest of the world, but Meyra was used to getting up at four-thirty each morning to head either to the inn's dining room downstairs, or the diner several blocks away.

There was something outside. Something that shouldn't be there.

But this didn't sound right. She should have already gone to bed, but she'd been so consumed with thoughts of that Barratt man she'd ended up cleaning the kitchen until it was spotless instead.

Everyone's schedule was posted on the refrigerator. Meyra had a copy on her phone. Marin kept everyone up to date with where the family was going to be at all times. Marin was really organized like that. Marin was almost weirdly fanatical about knowing exactly where everyone was going to be at all times. No matter what. Meyra checked the schedule quickly.

Marin was still at the diner. Marin took Tuesday through Saturday nights, at the diner now, before she'd come back and finish the accounts and audits for the inn after midnight.

Dusty was at her new home now, probably cuddling with her fiancé, Ben. Devaney, Dylan, Dorie, and Dahlia were still at the diner, getting ready to close up soon. Dixie was across the road, watching Dr. Lowell's kids while he'd been called into an emergency.

If something was going on with the inn, it would just be Darcey to deal with it tonight.

Meyra had never been afraid living in the inn before.

Until lately.

She reminded herself that she was as safe at the inn as she could ever be anywhere else. Nowhere was truly safe, after all.

Miranda said people really weren't safe anywhere. And they always had to be careful—especially young women. Miranda was the eldest of the Talley girls; she tended to hover over them all.

Darcey and Marin had reworked the budget to afford better security cameras everywhere, too.

If something was going on outside, it was on camera. She'd just call James, the man who was the night-time security guard, and have him check the monitors.

She knew what to do. She knew the policies and procedures.

She'd grown up in this inn, been there since before she could remember. So why did she feel like something was so wrong now? She had felt that way all night. Like things were going to change or something.

Meyra went back inside quickly, then down the other hallway. The rear exit was closer to where she thought she'd heard the sound. The one that came out behind their private stairs. There was a patio there. She pushed open the door and stepped out onto the small concrete steps. And listened.

The sound came again. Stronger this time.

She'd definitely heard it out in the garden.

It could be Chloe, her sister Miranda's dog. Chloe was really old, and though she still moved around a bit, it wasn't as easy as it used to be. She usually spent her time in the back garden or with Dusty. Dusty had had the only first-floor suite forever—but Dorie had it now. Dusty lived across the street with Ben, but they had all decided Chloe would be better off staying at the inn at her age. Or it could be her grandmother. Grandma had that apartment on the first-floor garden level.

Fear for her grandmother was strong, too.

She'd check what the sound was outside. Then she'd go by her grandmother's. Meyra's grandmother was a night owl. She'd still be up. Miranda had taken Bentley to a movie at the vintage movie theater nearby tonight. She would check again. And then Meyra would go back to her own suite and stay there. She'd probably even lock her doors, too.

Until her sister or her cousins were in the family wing, anyway. She didn't feel things like Marin said Marin did, but tonight…

She was revisiting that idea fast. Something just felt wrong tonight.

The door to the back patio of the inn was always left unlocked. Guests came in at all hours of the evening—they were on the main route to Yellowstone way up at the top of the state. They got a fair amount of tourists, but not at this time of year.

The lights were dim. The chairs in the lobby were all deserted.

She shivered again.

Every instinct she had said something was going on. Something bad. Something that she probably had no business out here searching for, actually.

Meyra thought about turning around. About going back inside. That would probably be the smartest idea, the safest.

Then the sound came again.

Louder than it had been when she'd been standing at the trashcan outside.

She shot a look up at the building behind her now. Her suite was closest to the back wall. Meyra really wanted to be in there right now.

It was quiet out. The snow had stopped falling hours ago. But traffic had all but stopped because of the road conditions. Every sound sounded…louder. More terrifying. The sound her feet made on the snow was like nails on glass stabbing at her. She could hear the wind around her.

It sounded like someone screaming.

She slipped her hand into the pouch of her hoodie and wrapped her fingers around her cell phone. Just in case. It was far too cold for someone to be out there now. But if there was someone out there…

"Hello?" she said softly. She raised her voice—she wasn't a wimp. If a guest was out here and hurt, someone needed to do something fast. They'd had guests die at the hotel before—but those were usually heart attacks.

She'd found one herself.

He'd driven to Masterson to meet with his girlfriend, where their spouses couldn't find them. Then he'd died of a heart attack while having sex with her. After he'd died, the girlfriend had run home. She hadn't wanted to get outed to her husband. Meyra had found him naked and dead in the bed in room 304. Wearing handcuffs. And fluffy pink house slippers.

It was a sight she'd never forget. She still didn't go into room 304 if she could help it. Every time she did, Meyra remembered.

The woman could have at least covered him up after he'd died before she'd fled. So he could have had some dignity. Miranda had been home that day. Miranda had solved the case of the missing lover in under two hours.

Something like that happened every five to ten years or so, her grandmother had said. It was just part of working in the hospitality industry.

The hotel only had about twenty-five percent occupancy right now. Mostly because it was early in the week, and that wasn't unusual. But it was possible one of their guests had fallen on the small walking path that wound around the inn and ended up on Talley Boulevard. It was snowy and cold and icy. Most of the guests had stayed inside. But that didn't mean all of them had.

She didn't know what the liability for the inn was—but even if she did, she couldn't leave someone out there in need of help. Meyra just wouldn't.

She had a responsibility to her family's guests. She'd just have to remind herself of that. "Hello? Is anyone out here?"