“I told you,” Eddie hissed.
“Eddie, come on,” said Harold.
“What?” I asked.
“Your boy here insists that Jerry is a ghost,” Johnson said, rubbing his hand over his mouth as he stood up. “And it looks like he’s right.”
“No,” I said. “No, he’s been working—he got lost in the woods—”
“Listen, pal,” Johnson said. “I’m not sure what the hell is going on around here, but I do know that you’ve had us chasing a ghost for the last twenty-four hours. I haven’t heard anything useful while I’ve been here except for a bunch of bullshit about a curse. This is a waste of our time.”
“So you’re just going to stop looking for Jerry?” I asked.
“As far as I can tell, Mr. Mitchells, there is no Jerry,” Johnson said. “Now, I understand that this place can get a little spooky up here but unless you have a real problem, I’m going to need you to stop calling us up here. We’ll get back to you when we finish with Mr. Banks’ autopsy.”
“When will that be?”
“Soon,” was all he said. I watched as they left, leaving me alone in the big room with Eddie and Harold. I glared over at them.
“What the fuck were you guys thinking?”
“Something’s going on here, boss,” Eddie said. “And you can keep denying it all you want, but something bad is happening at this place.”
I sighed. “We’ll need to get back to work tomorrow. In the meantime, keep an eye out for Jerry on your way back to the apartments.”
“We will,” Harold said, his voice grave.
They left then, and I was alone. I stood in the silence of the room, taking a deep breath, thinking about all that had happened and all I’d learned. It seemed like in just a few days everything had fallen apart around me, and I found myself considering the idea of a curse, of whether or not it could be true. I felt silly and stupid for thinking so but in that moment, I couldn’t think of another explanation for what was happening, at least not one that my rational mind was willing to accept as the truth.
15
Lilian
I sat down on the large bed, glad to be alone but feeling lonelier than ever. It had been hard to walk away from Logan after all that had happened between us, but I was just counting down the days now until it was time to go home. It was only a matter of time before the truth about Michael came out and I was allowed to go, and in the meantime the best thing to do was to keep from getting any more attached to Logan than I already was.
I looked out the window to see that the snow was falling lightly, but the sun was out for the first time in a couple of days. It was beautiful, and I took a moment just to look over the grounds of the retreat before deciding what to do for the day. I’d thought to spend the day in the room again—doing nothing but hiding out from the other guests. Most of the people who worked for my firm had gone home. I wasn’t sure how many of them remained, but I wanted to find out if Marilyn had stayed. I desperately needed to talk to her before the cops came back to me; we needed to work out a story for what had happened.
I decided to go downstairs and start my day with yoga, which was something that I felt like my body desperately needed after the way the nights with Logan had tended to be a workout. I needed to stretch, to feel limber, and I got dressed quickly in my workout clothes and made my way down to the big open room where yoga was being held.
When I walked in, I realized I was alone. I looked around the room, scanning the list on the door to make sure I had the right time. I shrugged when I saw it was correct, unrolled my mat and lay it out on the floor near the front of the room. After a few minutes, I heard someone walk in, and my body froze instinctively as I held my breath.
“Hi,” came a soft voice behind me. I relaxed when saw it was a woman, not a man, not a ghost. I turned to see that it was the yoga instructor, Anna, the one I’d seen Logan flirting with the first time I’d tried to come down here.
“Um, is class still happening?”
“Yeah, if you want,” she said, moving to the front of the room. The look on her face was strange as she studied me, a little hesitant, and she stood a few feet away as if she was afraid to come close.
“I did,” I said.
She took a deep breath. “So you’re Logan’s friend, right?”
“Um, I don’t—I don’t really know him very well,” I said. “We just met when I came here for the first time. We haven’t actually spent a lot of time together.”
“Oh,” she said, giving me a sly smile. “Okay.”
I looked away from her, hating her knowing expression. I started to stretch, imitating her moves as she got into position. It was quiet in the room as we went through the poses, me following along, the silence thick and tense in the room. After a few moments, I stopped, picking up my mat and starting to roll it up. It felt too uncomfortable to be in the room with her alone—I had no idea what she was thinking, what was on her mind.
“Sorry,” I said, and started to walk out of the room and away from her, desperate to be alone again where nobody would be giving me judgmental looks.
“Wait,” Anna called. I turned around to see her standing there with her hand on her hip. “Hold up.”
“What?”
She walked over to me, putting her hand on my arm.
“I just thought you should know, um—”
I stared at her when she didn’t respond.
“Logan—he’s a good guy. He really is. I know he can seem like a jerk. But—”
“I’m really not interested in Logan,” I said, feeling irritated that she would even bring him up.
“Good,” she said. “Because he’s not like your boss. You don’t have to—I just don’t want you to hurt him.”
“Hurt him? Logan?” I asked, puzzled. “Why would I hurt him?”
“Well,” she said. “I mean, everyone knows what happened with your boss. And Logan’s covering for you, which is cool, but—”
“Covering for me?”
The girl studied my face. “Everyone knows what you did, hon.”
“What?” I asked her.
She leaned into me, raising her eyebrows. “The guy was a creep. Your boss. Nobody—nobody is surprised that you pushed him. That’s why nobody has talked to the cops.”
“What?” I asked. “What? No—I didn’t—I didn’t push Michael.”
She stared at me, a small smile playing at the corner of her lips.
“Okay, hon,” she said. “Either way. I’m just saying. Logan’s not like that. He’s a cool guy.”
“Why do you think I pushed Michael?”
“Because your friend said you did,” she said simply, as if the answer was obvious.
“My friend?” I asked. I was more confused than ever. “Who?”
“That woman you work with,” Anna said. She seemed to be growing impatient with my confusion. “She told Esther—”
“Who’s Esther?”
“The maid. Anyway, Marilyn told Esther—”
“Marilyn?”
“Yes,” Anna said, her voice stony.
“I have to go,” I said, already turning around, leaving my things where they were and heading out of the room. I ran through the hall, going upstairs to the fourth floor where I knew Marilyn’s room was. I pounded on her door with my fist.
“Marilyn,” I nearly shouted, banging on the wood. “Open the door.”
There was no answer. I sighed in frustration, knocking on it again.
“Marilyn, if you’re in there, open the door,” I said.
There was no response. I nearly growled in anger and irritation as I started from the room, not quite sure where to go next in order to find her. I made my way through the hall, starting on the first floor, checking every open room. I was up on the second floor when I found her in the spa, sitting in a robe in the sauna room by herself. I went inside without changing, folding my arms over my chest.
“What the fuck, Marilyn?” I said. She stared at me with dull eyes, no expression
on her face. It made me even angrier, even more bewildered. “What is wrong with you?” I asked her. “Telling people I killed Michael?”
Her lips curved up in a smirk. “I only told a couple of people. It’s not my fault it got spread around.”
I stared at her, dumbfounded.
“Why?” I asked. “After what I did for you—”
“All you did for me was ruin my life,” Marilyn spat.
I stared at her, unable to comprehend her words. “What?”
“You heard me. You showed up at the firm and pushed me out. You completely ruined my life with your blonde hair and your pretty face. You didn’t even have to work half as hard to get the attention you’ve gotten at the firm.”
“I thought we were friends,” I said blankly. “And after what happened with Michael—”
“You have no idea what happened with Michael,” she said.
“I know what I saw,” I said. “I know what really happened. And it’s not what you’re telling people. You know that.”
She grinned at me, a malicious, evil look in her eye.
“It’s not about what I know, Lilian. It’s about what people will believe. Everybody heard you tell Michael off several times. Everybody saw you fighting with him the day he was killed.”
“You were the one who—”
“Nobody is going to believe you, Lilian,” Marilyn said, her voice calm. “Nobody’s going to believe you, because you’re just the company slut who came here to move up a notch in the firm. And when Michael told you no, you pushed him.”
“Everybody knows I hated Michael,” I said.
“No, that’s not true,” said Marilyn. “Remember? You acted as nice to him as you could. You were always sucking up to him, letting him touch you. It was disgusting. Everybody noticed.”
“I didn’t—”
“Face it, Lilian. It’s over. And once the cops come and they know for sure that Michael was murdered, they’re going to come back to this place crawling with rumors that little Lilian Jackson killed her boss because he wouldn’t give her what she wanted.”
“Why are you doing this?” I asked her, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I didn’t do anything to you.”
“You showed up and destroyed everything,” Marilyn said. “Now I’m going to destroy you back. Good luck getting them to believe anything you say when you’ve got a whole retreat full of people who know the truth about what you did.”
“I didn’t kill Michael,” I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking. I wanted to say more, to cuss her out, to tell her to go fuck herself, but I couldn’t. Instead, I just watched as she shrugged, turning her face away dismissively. I stared at her for a moment before I turned around to go, shaking my head, no idea how I was going to get out of this situation. There had to be some way to get ahead of it, to get my side of the story in before Marilyn could. I thought about the police who had been there, searching for the man I’d seen the night before in the basement. I wondered if they’d found him. There had still been cop cars outside this morning, though now I wasn’t sure if they were there or not. I headed to the front desk to check, avoiding the eye of everybody I walked past. It seemed like everybody was looking at me, and I wondered just how many people had heard the horrible rumor about me.
Nobody was at the front desk when I got downstairs, and the room was bustling with the remaining guests. There were only twenty or so of the hundreds who had been here before the fire, and the retreat seemed quiet and empty, though more peaceful than it had been when it was swarming with people. I was glad that there weren’t more—it would only be more accusing pairs of eyes, more people to suspect who might be out to hurt me. I thought again about what had happened in the woods when I’d been tackled and wondered who that had been, if somebody had been truly trying to hurt me or just sending me a message. It could have been Marilyn for all I knew, but she didn’t seem that strong, though it had been hard to make out the shape of the person as they’d run away through the trees.
There were no cop cars outside as I left the retreat building, making my way toward the path, the cool air slapping my skin. I wasn’t wearing a coat but I didn’t care—the building had felt hot even once I’d left the sauna, and I needed the fresh air in order to collect my thoughts. I took deep breaths of it and made my way toward the gardens where I’d first met Logan, breathing in the scent of pine, trying to enjoy a moment alone in the peace and quiet of the snow. I’d only been walking a minute when somebody grabbed my wrist and pulled me into the bushes, clamping a hand over my mouth so I couldn’t scream. I struggled to get away from the person’s grasp, but his hand was too tight on me, and I couldn’t move even to look at his face.
“Stay away from Logan,” a voice said. It was a man’s voice, one I didn’t recognize. “Stay away from him, or you die too.”
The words sent a chill through me, one that made all the hair on my body stand on end.
“Don’t let him bring you down with him. Stay away from him,” the voice said, then shoved me forward into the bushes. I stumbled, catching myself, trying to push up and away so I could turn to see who had grabbed me. I saw nobody though—whoever it had been had run away. My heart was pounding and it was hard to catch my breath. Suddenly, I wanted nothing more than to flee, to run home back to California and never see snow or ice again.
I made my way inside, miserable, nearly running straight into Logan on my way through the kitchen. I didn’t even notice him until he put his hands on my arms to stop me from colliding with his body, then held me steady in front of him and looked me in the eye.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his brow furrowing into a look of concern.
“Nothing,” I said, glancing away from him. The man’s words were hot in my mind. Stay away from Logan. Otherwise, I would die. Logan took my face in his hands when I tried to avoid his eye, tilting it upward to look at him.
“Tell me,” he said softly. I pulled away from him, turning away. I didn’t say anything before I walked past him, leaving him alone in the kitchen as I made my way up the stairs and up to my bedroom. I didn’t intend on leaving again, not before all was said and done with the cops.
16
Logan
I took a deep breath, watching Lily walk away from me and up the stairs to her room. Ever since I’d brought her downstairs to switch rooms, I’d regretted it. I knew there was no way to keep her with me but it was still frustrating to feel like I’d given her away instead of fighting for her. I was frustrated, too, with what had happened with the police. Jerry was gone and nobody was looking for him, and now my men were starting to make me feel like I was going crazy.
I shook the thought from my head as I made my way down the stairs and to the front desk.
“Martha,” I said.
“Hi,” she said to me. “How are you, Mr. Mitchells?”
“I’m fine—I need you to tell me the room number for one of our guests,” I said to her. She nodded and pulled up the database on the computer.
“Richard Marcus,” I told her. I’d thought I knew the room he was staying in but when I’d gone there, it had been unlocked and empty.
“Looks like Mr. Marcus checked out yesterday morning,” she said.
“That’s impossible, I just saw him here today.”
“Maybe he left something behind,” she said, shrugging. “He could have come back for it.”
“Did you see him leave?”
“Yes. George carried his bags out for him.”
“Where’s George?” I asked her, looking around for the bellhop. I saw him sitting at his station, waiting for someone to come through. I approached him and he looked up at me, a terrified look on his face.
“George, do you remember carrying out Mr. Marcus’s bags yesterday morning?”
“Who?” the boy asked, clearly confused.
“Richard Marcus. Tall, bald, glasses? Do you remember him? You carried his bags out yesterday.”
“N—no, sir,” the boy stammered. I
took a deep breath and walked away from him, back over to Martha.
“Who changed the room yesterday when Richard checked out?”
“I think Valerie was on—”
“Thank you, Martha,” I said to her, hurrying away. I went upstairs to the lounge where I had seen Valerie on her lunch break. She was sitting at a table reading a book as she ate, and looked up at me when I walked in.
“Hello, Mr. Mitchells,” she said. “What’s up?”
“You cleaned 232 yesterday morning, right?”
She bit her lip. “Yes.”
“Did you find anything in there?”
She looked down at the floor, avoiding my eye.
“Valerie,” I said to her gently. “What did you find in 232?”
“Th—there was blood. In the bathtub.”
“There was blood in the bathtub,” I repeated slowly.
She nodded, almost looking like she would burst into tears.
“Did you tell anybody?”
She shook her head, pressing her lips into a thin line.
“Why didn’t you tell me this, Valerie? You know this is the sort of thing we report.”
“He told me not to,” Valerie said, her jaw trembling. “He said—he said he’d leave a good tip if I just cleaned it up. I thought maybe he had a nosebleed or something, but now—”
“Now what?”
She lowered her voice then, almost whispering.
“That man that fell off the fourth floor. He was pushed,” she said.
“Who pushed him?”
“That girl. The lawyer. The blonde one. She was his boss.”
“What does that have to do with 232?” I asked her impatiently. “And how do you know this?”
“Everybody knows it, sir,” the girl said. “Nobody wants to talk about it, because there’s no proof, but that girl pushed him off. That’s how he fell.”
“Valerie,” I said, my head spinning. “What does that have to do with 232?”
“I think—I saw them together yesterday. I think they might be—they might be working together,” the girl said. I stared at her.
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