The Fog

by Amanda McKinney

  He turned to her. “You weren’t a cheerleader by chance, were you?”

  She snorted, seemingly offended by the statement.

  He smiled, then said, “Okay, you’re going to have to climb up on my shoulders, then pull yourself up. Sound good?”

  “In this dress?”

  “Unless you want to go naked, which I’m totally cool with.”

  “For the sake of keeping Lydia's head from exploding, no.” She grabbed her diamond-encrusted heels. “But I’m taking these with me.”

  “Don’t blame you. Okay… and you need to do it quickly, okay? If the electricity comes back on…”

  She slowly nodded, her eyes wide with understanding, and looped her purse on her shoulder.

  “Okay.” He spun on his heel and squatted down. “Let’s do this.”

  He heard her take a deep breath before locking hands with him, hiking up her dress and slinging her legs over his shoulders. He stood. “Nice and quick. I’ll catch you if you fall.”

  “Or my body parts if this thing starts up.”

  “Can I choose the parts?”

  She slapped his head.

  “On three. One, two, three.”

  She lifted off him, and after a quick shove of her butt, was safely on the fourth floor.

  Phew.

  He jumped and pulled himself up.

  He quickly scanned the floor, noticing how quiet the hotel was. The storm must have subsided over the last few hours. Someone had placed a flashlight at both ends of the hall, which did a crap job of illuminating, but it was better than nothing. When he was confident they were alone, he turned to Lydia.

  “Tell me what’s going on.”

  Lydia held the light so it shined up her face, creating black shadows over her eyes and below her cheekbones. “Well, I went upstairs to change.” The liquor was thick on her breath. “And not too long after that the lights went out. I guess you know that. Oh, my God, I can’t believe you’ve been stuck in that thing all night. How freaky.”

  “Lydia, focus.”

  “Okay. Yeah. I was in the bar waiting on Kaylee and after the lights went out, Melanie, the front desk chick, told us all to gather in the lobby while they set out lights throughout the hotel. I guess they were worried about us falling, or whatever.”

  “They don’t have a generator?”

  “What’s a generator?”

  “Never mind. Everyone gathered in the lobby?”

  She nodded.

  “Was Kaylee there?”

  “No.”

  “What time did you last see her?”

  “Oh, I don’t know… around nine or so.”

  “Did you check her room?”

  “Yeah. She’s not there.”

  “Okay. Can you tell me who gathered in the lobby? Faces, at least?”

  Lydia thought for a moment. “I wasn’t really paying attention.”

  “Okay. Go on, then.”

  “So, someone went to go lay these flashlights around the halls—

  “Who?”

  “Uh… James, I think.”

  “The bellman?”

  “Yeah. Anyway, after a while, I started getting worried and went to look for her.” She shook her head, despair pulling at her face. “I went to her room, checked the halls, outside, even. Then, I went back to the bar, and later, checked again. I’ve been doing that off and on all night. Told Melanie, and she’s been helping look for her, too.”

  “Where else have you looked?”

  “All the places I could muster up enough courage to go… this place is so creepy, Wesley. Oh and I’ve checked the bathrooms, too. Her car, even.”

  “Still here?”

  “Yes. The only place I haven’t been is downstairs.”

  “The basement.”

  Lydia nodded, then grabbed his arm. “Also, Sam never came down to meet us. She sent a text earlier that she’d checked-in, and we were supposed to meet at the bar, but she never showed.”

  Sam. He tried to recall the first, and only time he’d met Kaylee and Lydia’s friend. It was at Kaylee’s apartment, years earlier. Kaylee had introduced them and the twenty-something with short brown hair had barely looked up from the book in her hand. He remembered she seemed shy. Soft-spoken.

  “When was the last time you heard from her?”

  “After she checked-in. Said she was going to unpack. I’ve texted her several times, with no response.”

  His gut clenched. There were potentially two missing women now, not one.

  “You’ve got to help me find Kaylee.”

  “The basement has a jewelry shop, spa, and I think the kitchen is down there,” Gwen added.

  He nodded. Many—many—places to hide. His mind raced to pull together a plan to find the missing Kaylee and Sam, while somehow ensuring Gwen was safe, and the only way he could do that was to keep her at his side. Her and the drunk, mentally unstable Lydia.

  “Lydia, hand me your flashlight. I want you both to stay close to me, close to each other. Don’t let the other out of your sight. We’ll take the stairs to the basement to check it out.” He turned fully to Lydia to emphasize. “Do not leave Gwen’s side, do you understand?”

  Wide-eyed, she nodded.

  “Okay let’s go, and stay quiet. Not a word.” He led them down the hallway, his head on a swivel. James had positioned the flashlights pointing toward the center of the hall, blinding him, making it impossible to see past the bright light. He squinted, keeping his ears tuned to any sound around him.

  They reached the balcony bar, and he stopped. “Did you check the bar?”

  Lydia nodded. “Of course. I mean, I glanced in. No one’s in there, not even a bartender.”

  He looked in the bar, his gaze landing on an open door that led to the balcony. An open door. His instincts piqued.

  “Stay here. Right here. I’m going to check the balcony.”

  He stepped into the bar, pulled his gun and swept the flashlight across the room. Red paisley carpet ran underneath round tables and leather chairs. A small bar lined the left wall, a bathroom on the far side. A wall of windows looked out to the dark balcony.

  He checked behind the bar, the bathroom, then made his way to the opened door that led out to the balcony. The night was eerily quiet. A cool breeze swept past his skin and the hair on the back of his neck prickled. Sliding his finger around the trigger, he stepped outside. The rain had stopped, but drops trickled from the awning above. He could hear the river raging in the distance.

  He shined the light across the deck and stopped on a dead body.

  Kaylee Rhodes’s throat had been slashed ear-to-ear.

  CHAPTER 20

  “Stay there!” he yelled firmly to Gwen who was frozen in the doorway, her mouth gaping open. “Dammit, I told you to stay in the hall.”

  He quickly stepped over to the gray, lifeless body. Kaylee’s eyes were open, staring up at the sky as if the lids had been peeled away. Blood mixed with puddles of rain, snaking across the wooden slats and dripping off the side.

  So much blood.

  She lay on her back, one arm hanging off the balcony and the other at her side, her fist closed. Between her fingers, something silver flashed in the light. He kneeled down and peered closer. His blood ran cold. He carefully pulled back her fingers to reveal a small cross pendant with a green stone in the middle.

  His jaw twitched with a fresh rush of anger.

  Suddenly, a bone-chilling scream vibrated through the air.

  He surged to his feet and looked over the balcony. A dark silhouette darted across the back lawn below.

  A woman.

  He spun around to face Gwen, who was desperately pushing Lydia away from the door. “Stay here.” He said. “Do not move. I’ll be back.”

  He turned and threw himself over the banister, landing with a thud on the third floor. He crossed the balcony in two swift steps, then jumped down to the next level, then the next, until his boots hit the saturated ground. He slipped through the mud, t
hen took off like a rocket, sprinting across the grass. He kept his light on the ground, following the footprints in the mud. He jumped over a fallen tree branch, slipping again on loose mud. He slowed, concentrating on the tracks that were fading against the gravel of the parking lot, then caught a glimpse of light coming from the side of the hotel.

  “Hey!” He called out and sprinted toward the building. “Hey, stop!”

  The woman slipped and tumbled to the ground. He holstered his gun, dropped the flashlight and grabbed her. Her head snapped around, her eyes wild with fear, her dark, spiky hair speckled with mud.

  “Sam.”

  “Wesley,” she heaved out as tears filled her eyes. “Wesley. Oh,” the dam broke, and streaks slid down her face. “I thought you were…”

  “Thought I was who?”

  “Whoever I just saw in the woods. Someone…”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know! I was walking to my car, and I heard… I felt… I felt someone watching me. I turned, and someone was in the woods, staring right at me. He started coming toward me, and I screamed and took off.”

  “He?”

  She nodded. “I think so. A big guy.”

  Wesley’s eyes darted the landscape behind her. “Did you see where he went?”

  “No. I screamed bloody murder and took off. Didn’t look back.”

  He pulled her to her feet. “What were you doing going to your car?”

  “I wanted to get the hell out of the hotel. Creeps me out. I couldn’t find Lydia or Kaylee, and just wanted to leave. Or, sleep in my car until daylight. That place… it’s evil.”

  “I saw Lydia a few minutes ago. She said they’ve been calling you and looking for you.”

  “I didn’t get here ‘till after eight. Checked into my room took a second to lay down, and I freaking fell asleep. I worked a double at the restaurant yesterday and worked late today. I was so exhausted. I woke up not long ago. My freakin’ phone was on vibrate. I came downstairs, couldn’t find them and just wanted to get the hell out.”

  “You didn’t know the bridge collapsed?”

  Her eyebrows arched. “It did?”

  “Yeah, you wouldn’t have gotten far.” He handed her his flashlight.

  “Shit.”

  “We’ve got to get you back inside. Quickly.”

  ***

  “Lydia, no.”

  With both hands, Gwen grabbed the trembling arms in front of her but Lydia yanked away. She was hysterical.

  After seeing Kaylee’s body, Gwen swiftly guided Lydia away from the balcony, but not before Lydia had gotten a quick glance of the scene.

  The next few seconds had been a whirlwind. She’d heard the scream outside, then watched Wesley throw himself over the balcony in pursuit of something—someone—he’d seen below while she fought Lydia from running to her friend’s body.

  It had been five minutes of trying to calm her down. But trying to calm down a drunk woman was a losing battle.

  “I’m not just going to stand here, feet away from Kaylee’s body, waiting for Wesley! We have to get help, Gwen! Don’t you see that?”

  Wesley was the help, she thought but didn’t say it. She also didn’t want to remind Lydia that help wasn’t going to come until the mountain reopened, more than likely after sunrise.

  “I’m going!”

  “Where, Lydia? Where the hell are you going to go?”

  “Down to the lobby. That’s where everyone is. Maybe someone… maybe we can get out of here.”

  Gwen shook her head. “We stay here, just like Wesley told us to do. He’ll be back soon.”

  Lydia squinted her eyes in disgust and leaned forward, inches from Gwen's face. “Listen to yourself. Do you hear what you’re saying? Do you know how many women have uttered those exact words? That Wesley would come back? Come back to them? You’re just another notch on his fucking belt, Gwen. And you’ll regret it.” In a haste, she swooped down and took a flashlight from one end of the hall. “Mark my words, you’ll regret the day you ever let Wesley Cross into your life. That is, unless your throat gets slashed first.” With that final insult, Lydia spun on her heel and disappeared into the darkness, her flashlight bouncing on the walls reflecting the anger in her unsteady steps. The door to the stairwell popped open and slammed shut.

  Then, silence.

  Gwen stood, staring down the hallway, her heart pounding. Lydia’s words were like a sledgehammer. She felt her chest squeezing and took a deep breath, another, and another.

  The silence settled around her, suffocating. Haunting.

  She turned, focusing on the single flashlight left in the hall. What if it went out? She clicked on her phone—47% battery. Worst case scenario, she’d have her cell phone light. She looked at the time—4:54 a.m. Dawn would begin to break in about thirty minutes.

  Thirty minutes.

  She glanced through the bar to the lump on the balcony, and her stomach rolled. For a second, she thought she might actually throw up. She shifted her gaze to the mountains in the background, desperately willing Wesley to jump over the railing, tell her he caught the bastard, then take her away. Away from this Godforsaken hotel.

  The silence became a heavy buzz in her ears, and her heart started to beat faster. A chill tickled up her spine.

  “Shit,” she whispered, her breath becoming shallower. She felt like she was on the brink of a full-blown panic attack.

  “Okay, Gwen, you’re okay… you’re okay.” She tried to reassure herself.

  Her heart felt like a hammer beating her chest, collapsing her lungs. She wasn’t okay. She had to get away from Kaylee’s body. For a moment, she considered following Lydia downstairs, but no, she’d promised Wesley she wouldn’t leave the floor.

  He’d come back for her—despite what the drunk had said.

  She chewed on her lower lip and for the first time in her life, wished she had a gun. Maybe Wesley was right. Maybe it was time to start carrying one, for situations just like this. Hell, she didn’t even have mace. She shoved her hand in her purse, feeling around for anything she could use to protect herself when—her room key!

  Her room!

  Relief shot through her as she pulled it out, shone her light and read the number out loud.

  “Four-twenty-eight.” Yes, she would lock herself in her room until Wesley came back. She looped her purse around her shoulder and began frantically searching the numbers on the doors.

  “Four-eighteen, Four-twenty…” Almost to the stairwell, she pushed into a jog. “Four-twenty-two, four, six, eight.” She grabbed the flashlight from the floor, and her hand trembled as she tried to shove the key into the lock—an actual key, not a card.

  “Come on,” she seethed. Finally, the door popped open. The faint smell of eucalyptus perfumed the air, pulling her back to hours earlier when she’d been trying on dresses. If she’d only known then what the night had in store for her. She quickly closed and locked the door. Her hand instinctively went for the light switch.

  “Dammit.” She muttered.

  She lifted the flashlight and scanned the room. A king-sized, four-poster bed, a small loveseat, and an antique desk. A flat-screen hung from the wall, the only modern piece of furniture. Beside the bed was a small door which she guessed led to the bathroom, and beside that, a glass door flanked by windows overlooking a small balcony.

  The sky was beginning to lighten.

  Where was Wesley? Nerves tingled through her. Was he okay?

  She clicked open a new text message.

  Worried about you. Okay here. Lydia went back downstairs, couldn’t stop her. I’m in my room, 428. Will wait for you here. Text back ASAP.

  She turned off the phone and stood for a moment, waiting for a response. A minute ticked by and her thoughts began to wander, her anxiety taking over. She tossed her purse, heels, and phone on the bed and walked out onto the balcony, searching for Wesley below. The air smelled of wet earth. Water dripped off the overfilled gutters. She shivered and wrapped her
arms around herself as she stepped to the edge. Her stomach did a little dance as she looked at the miles and miles of mountains surrounding her. She wasn’t scared of heights but didn’t exactly love them, either.

  Where the hell was Wesley?

  She inhaled deeply and looked up at the sky, noting the dimming stars. No clouds. The storm must’ve moved on.

  Creak…

  She froze, a rush of fear zinging through her. She clamped her mouth shut and strained to hear what she thought was footsteps behind her.

  Someone was in her room.

  It wasn’t Wesley. Not only did her gut tell her that, but she knew he would’ve called out. And, he didn’t have a key, anyway.

  Who had a key?

  Her fingers wrapped around the railing as her eyes darted the ground below, her brain desperately trying to devise a plan to get away. She was trapped, with nowhere to run.

  Should she jump? Try to catch herself on the balcony below?

  Panic ran like ants crawling over her skin.

  She was in danger, every instinct in her body told her so.

  Jump, Gwen, jump.

  She gripped the railing, sucked in a breath and as she crouched to leap forward, a hand wrapped around her mouth.

  CHAPTER 21

  With Sam at his side, Wesley jogged up the front steps. Every second that passed was a second away from Gwen. He pushed through the front doors and focused on the small crowd in the lobby gathered around a table topped with candles and empty wine bottles.

  A gasp sounded beside him.

  “Sam! Wesley!”

  He turned, and his stomach dropped. “Lydia. What are you doing down here? I told you to stay with Gwen.”

  “I couldn’t, Wesley, I couldn’t be up there with… oh, God, Sam! Where the hell have you been?”

  He pulled her attention back to him. “Where’s Gwen, Lydia?”

  “Up there. She stayed.”

  Shit. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  “Mr. Cross is everything okay?” Deep in the middle of a chess game with Cortez Vega, James frowned.

  “Is everyone here in the lobby?” Wesley quickly asked.

  Concern filled the bellman’s eyes. “Yes, sir. Well, some are at the bar in the ballroom, but Melanie and I have given everyone strict instructions to stay here. The lobby, or the bar. Is something wrong?”