A Soul To Steal

by Rob Blackwell

  “You have it all worked out,” Quinn said.

  “Believe me, so does he. That’s why I caught his attention. He might be taking down some other people to add to his body count, but I think he intended to make me his official grand entrance, so to speak.”

  “Well, he came close.”

  “But that’s just it-close, but not close enough,” she said. “And I don’t think he thinks very highly of our ability to protect ourselves.”

  “Well, we have one thing in common,” Quinn said.

  “That’s going to change,” she said. “I’ve been giving this a lot of thought. But one problem was my own doubt.”

  “In what?”

  “In who?” She re-phrased his question. “I doubted you. But I’m going to take that leap of faith you suggested. From this point on, we are in this together.”

  Quinn laughed.

  “From this point forward? I’ve been there,” he said.

  “Well, now I’m there too,” she said.

  They drove to the hotel.

  They had barely crossed the lobby before a manager began approaching them. Dressed up in a tight, vaguely Victorian-era version of a tuxedo, he was clearly angry.

  “We’ve been trying to reach you, madam,” he said, giving Quinn a glance that suggested he thought very little of him as a dresser or a person.

  “You’ve had my cell phone,” she said.

  “Well, your boyfriend said you changed it,” the hotel manager said. He looked meaningfully at Quinn.

  Kate looked confused and glanced at Quinn, who shrugged and indicated he had no idea what was going on. Secretly, however, in the middle of one of the biggest scares of his life, he was pleased. The manager had said boyfriend and Kate had assumed-just assumed-he was referring to Quinn. Maybe that meant something or maybe it didn’t, but he was still damn glad to see it.

  “He gave us your new phone number,” the manager said, but the glances between Kate and Quinn had unnerved him. The bluster and outrage building in the hotel employee appeared to be fading. Something was not going according to his plan.

  “And you didn’t think to try the old one?” Kate said. “Who, exactly, did you say said this?”

  “Your boyfriend,” he replied, sounding less angry. “He called from your room.”

  “And was I in it?”

  “Well, I assumed you were,” the manager said, and anger had clearly been replaced by something else: defensiveness.

  “Why were you trying to reach me?” Kate asked calmly.

  “Your room. It was left in an unacceptable condition,” the manager said, but he was looking around him now. Quinn thought he looked like a man searching for back up.

  “I see,” she said. “And did it ever occur to you that my ‘boyfriend’ may actually have been an intruder? That maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t with me at all?”

  “No, that did not occur to us,” the manager said. “He seemed so confident, like he was supposed to be there.”

  “I want to see the room,” Kate said.

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” the manager said, clearly wishing he hadn’t started the conversation to begin with.

  “It’s my room-I paid for it,” Kate said.

  She started walking very calmly toward the elevators.

  “Madam,” the manager said. “Madam, I can’t allow that.”

  “But you can allow a total stranger in my room?” Kate said. “How did he get in there anyway?”

  “We assumed you let him in,” the manager said. “I think now maybe this is a police matter.”

  “You may be more right than you know,” Kate said. “Which is why I want to look at the place before they get here.”

  “I can’t allow that,” the manager said.

  “What’s your name?” Quinn asked. He pulled out a pad of paper and started writing.

  “Eric Hoffman,” the manager said stiffly. “I have the full backing of the hotel’s owners, I can assure you. There’s no use trying to intimidate me.”

  “I’m not trying that,” Quinn said evenly. “Just wanted to know your name for the paper.”

  “The paper?”

  “We work for the Chronicle, Mr. Hoffman,” Quinn said. “I work on the crime beat. And this is a crime. I’m sure a lot of people will be interested in your security standards.”

  “Or you could just let us in and we’ll keep your name out of it,” Kate said.

  The manager paused and considered. It felt like forever, but he finally gestured toward the elevator.

  “But my name is not to be anywhere near this story,” he said.

  They rode the elevator in silence and Kate walked quickly to her room once it stopped and opened. If she was nervous, she didn’t show it. Quinn almost wondered if she would grab her gun, but she didn’t even pause when the manager opened the door.

  “Dear God,” she said as she walked in.

  The room was a disaster. Virtually every piece of furniture had been overturned. The table lamp lay on its side with the light bulb crushed into the carpet. The bed’s mattresses had been taken off the bed frame. One lay against the wall and the other was strewn halfway on the bed. The coffee table had been shattered as if someone had fallen on it. Quinn glanced into the bathroom and could see shards of mirror lying on the floor.

  “You see why we were upset,” the manager said.

  “You thought she did this?” Quinn said.

  “We thought… the man said… he told the front desk there was a bit of a party. We didn’t hear much, so we didn’t think about it. It wasn’t until the next morning…”

  “How could you not hear this?” Quinn asked.

  Kate started walking around. Her clothes had been removed from the drawers and were strewn all over the room. There was a bra hanging from a light fixture and three panties laid out in a row on the bed’s headboard. Kate made no move to pick anything up.

  Instead, she appeared to be looking for something.

  “Watch out for the broken glass,” Quinn said. He wasn’t sure what she was looking for.

  “We need to call the police,” the manager said.

  “In a minute,” Kate said. “You and I need to talk first.”

  “Talk about what?” the manager said. He sounded nervous. He clearly had assumed Kate would pay for damages and now had stumbled onto something quite different.

  Kate didn’t answer. Instead she scoured the hotel room floor, stepping over a pair of pants and a blouse. Quinn was about to ask her what she was looking for when she leaned down and scooped a piece of paper off the ground. She read it, crossed the room and handed it to Quinn.

  “I’m going to kill you slowly, Trina,” the note read.

  “What’s it say?” the manager asked.

  Neither one of them responded.

  “Here’s what we’re going to do,” Kate said. “I’m going to cut you a deal.”

  “Cut me a deal? We have insurance. If you don’t know the gentleman who did this…”

  “Oh, I know him,” Kate said. “Lord Halloween did this.”

  The man audibly gasped.

  “How can you say such a thing?” the man said. “That’s libel. I’ll sue.”

  “First of all,” Quinn said, “It’s slander, not libel. Libel is printed and we haven’t done that yet. Second of all, it’s also true.”

  “You’re going to make two copies of the hotel security feed for the past several days,” Kate said. “One copy goes to me and the other goes to the police.”

  “Why would I do such a thing?” the man said. “I’m not giving anything to reporters. If the police want them, we will of course cooperate.”

  “You want to help me,” Kate said, and she smiled. Quinn thought she was beautiful, but the smile looked cold and ruthless. “Because if you don’t, I’m going to put this on the front page of the Chronicle: ‘Lord Halloween Strikes Leesburg Inn.’”

  “The police will do that anyway,” the manager said, but he sounded dou
btful.

  “Please,” Kate replied. “The police want to cover this up even more than you do. But as you say, we’re reporters. I would be more than happy to write in detail of how the hotel security let a psychopath into one of their guest’s rooms. Do you know how fast business would dry up?”

  “I’ll tell everyone you threatened me,” the manager said.

  “Say what you want,” Kate said, and smiled again. If anything, it looked more cruel than before. “No one will believe you. You will just be trying to protect yourself. They’ll be too busy running away from here and your bosses will be too busy trying to find someone to blame. And it won’t take them long to find someone, will it?”

  The manager stood and stared. He looked at Quinn, who just stared back

  “What do you want?” the manager said.

  “The security feed,” Kate said. “Just a copy-same as the police get-we’re not trying to interfere, after all.”

  “To do what with it? Put it in the paper?”

  “We’re going to do you a favor,” Kate said. “If the police don’t mention you, we won’t either. The minute they go public with this, we can’t help you. But if they cover up this incident, you’re home free. We’ll just use the tapes for research and nobody needs to bring this up again.”

  Quinn could see the manager turning it over in his mind. It was a trap and he knew it. If he didn’t cooperate, he would be looking for a new job by the end of the week. If he did, there was no guarantee it would help him much.

  “Your call,” Kate said. “Take a risk and you might get lucky. But if you don’t play along, I assure you this place will be out of business by Christmas.”

  The manager turned and looked at the room.

  “Why do things like this always happen to me?” he said. Without looking back, he turned and walked out of the room. Very quietly, as he passed Quinn, he motioned for them to follow him.

  Twenty minutes later, Kate and Quinn were handed copies of the tapes covering the entire week.

  The manager had regained his officious tone.

  “You breathe a word of this and I will sue you,” he said.

  Kate nodded but waited till they were at the door to respond.

  “The police are going to want to question me,” she said. “Tell them I’m staying with Quinn O’Brion. And one other thing…”

  “Yes,” the manager said. In his head, he was beginning to see a way out. The police would come and they would stay quiet. And these reporters-who were they, really? They would stay quiet or face a lifetime of litigation. Eric Hoffman was back in control again.

  “You missing any personnel?”

  The manager stopped in his tracks. The blood drained slowly from his face.

  “When did she disappear?” Quinn asked.

  The manager didn’t respond. He didn’t have to; his face said it all.

  “You might want to tell the police about that too,” Kate said.

  And with that, the two were out the door. Eric Hoffman went back to his desk a broken man.

  They had gone shopping. That was the thing that Quinn couldn’t believe. They were being chased by a psycho who had come to kill Kate at least twice in the past 12 hours and they had gone shopping. Quinn could see it was necessary. Kate simply hadn’t wanted anything left for her at the hotel and he couldn’t blame her. The police would probably be rifling through her things by now anyway.

  So they had spent two hours in the Leesburg outlet malls just outside of town, jumping from one store to the next. Quinn-who hated shopping above all else-actually found himself enjoying it. For one, it was such a normal activity that it was easy to forget they were under imminent threat of death. The day was bright, the sun was shining and hundreds of people were with them. The night before felt like a bad dream.

  The other thing that was hard to miss was how much Quinn felt like Kate’s boyfriend. He waited outside the dressing room with the other boyfriends and gave a thumbs up or down anytime she came out with something new. Granted, some boyfriends got to go inside the dressing room, but Quinn wasn’t complaining. He just enjoyed being with her.

  And it was then that he finally knew it: he was in love with her. He had only known her a few days, but it felt like forever. She had literally left him to die in his own apartment because of her trust issues and he didn’t care. He looked at her and everything was better. He was with her and everything was right. Had he ever been in love before? Quinn had thought so. He had believed he was. But that felt like a pale imitation of what he was going through now. And he knew it was real because of this: Quinn was in real danger. Kate could very well-almost certainly would-get him killed. And he didn’t care. The thought of abandoning her, of running from her, was unfathomable. He would never do it. He would die for her.

  “What are you smiling about?” Kate asked him as she showed off her latest pick of clothes.

  “Nothing,” he replied, and wiped the smile off his face. He was going to die, but he was in love. He didn’t feel alone anymore.

  Within ten minutes, they were back in the car. If Kate was scared, Quinn had trouble seeing it.

  “He could have followed us out here, you know,” Quinn said.

  “That’s true and he could follow us now,” she replied. “But I don’t think so. He has other plans than just me and he can’t afford to watch us all day. He can’t be everywhere at once. Besides, let him watch me. Let him see me not cowering in front of him. That will frustrate him more than anything else.”

  “So where are we off to?” Quinn said.

  “Same plan as before,” she replied. “Bluemont.”

  “The police are going to want to see us,” Quinn said. “After the hotel and everything.”

  “They can wait,” she said. “Their job will be to cover this whole thing up. I’ll talk to them when we’re ready.”

  They headed out on Route 15, heading south. The drive was less than two hours away, but the further they got away from Leesburg, the better. It felt safer.

  Chapter 18

  Saturday, Oct. 21

  Bluemont was bigger than Quinn expected. He had thought he would find a small, dusty town. Instead, it was a medium sized town in the shadow of the Blue Ridge Mountains. The town’s business had clearly once been coal mining, which explained why it had grown so much. Now it looked like it also catered to hikers of the Appalachian Trail and other tourists.

  Kate and Quinn pulled into the biggest hotel and made a reservation. From there, they went to find the Bluemont Gazette. Unsurprisingly, the building was closed because it was a Saturday. It was a small office. Quinn doubted more than five people worked there.

  They hit the streets. They stopped into a bakery, whose owners said they didn’t know anyone at the paper and had never heard of Thomas Fillmore. They dropped by a hardware store where the owner said the same thing. By the time they hit the grocery store, they knew something was up.

  “Never heard of him,” the lady at the customer service desk said. “I know most everyone in town, so maybe you are in the wrong place.”

  “You know anyone at the Bluemont Gazette?”

  “That old rag?” she said. “I’m surprised it hasn’t shut down.”

  Quinn and Kate looked at each other. The woman’s face was beet red, she wasn’t looking them in the eye and she seemed extremely nervous.

  Quinn leaned in conspiratorially.

  “Can I tell you a secret?” he asked the woman. He glanced at her badge. “Ms. Hawkins?”

  “Well sure, honey, but everyone calls me Midge,” the woman said.

  “I don’t want anyone else to find out about this,” said Quinn. “But Katrina here… well… she has a very special reason for finding Mr. Fillmore.”

  “I told you I don’t know any…”

  “I heard you, but I thought if you knew why we needed to find him, you might be a little more sympathetic to our plight,” he said. “Maybe it would jumpstart your memory.”

  Quinn hurried on bef
ore she could interrupt.

  “Katrina here used to live in Loudoun County, over in Virginia,” he said, and Midge nodded as if she understood. “Well, her parents went through a nasty divorce when she was just a little kid and she never really knew what broke them up. Her mom, God rest her soul, was recently diagnosed with cancer and told her the truth: Katrina’s birth was the result of an affair. Now she wouldn’t tell her who, but she found these old letters up in the attic and eventually found out that Thomas Fillmore was her father. Apparently, he left Loudoun about 12 years ago. Katrina is desperate to find him before her mother dies. He was the one true love of her life.”

  Kate was looking at Quinn with an expression that mixed awe with disapproval. She was impressed how easily he could lie, but a little disturbed by it as well.

  “Please, Ms. Hawkins,” Quinn paused awkwardly. “Midge, we need your help. I know Mr. Fillmore is a private man.”

  Midge Hawkins looked around the store to see if anyone else could overhear them. She leaned in closer.

  “You don’t know the half of it,” she said. “He is the most paranoid man I ever met. He practically keeps tabs on any stranger that comes into town.”

  “So you know him?” Quinn said. “Fantastic, Ms. Hawkins. Could you help us, please?”

  Quinn took Kate’s hand and gave it a squeeze.

  “It would mean so much to us,” he said. “We were fixing to get married soon and…”

  Kate squeezed his hand sharply. He was putting it on a little too much for her taste and she worried it would spook Midge Hawkins. Instead, it worked like a charm.

  “Well, I never could be one to stand in the way of love,” she said. She grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled something on it. When she slid it over to Quinn, he saw with relief it was an address.

  “Thank you so much, Ms. Hawkins,” Quinn said. “God bless you. Really. You don’t know what this means to us.”