From the Shadows

by B. J Daniels

  All he knew right now was that he had to get out of here. He wadded up the note and shoved it into his pocket rather than leave it in the trash. He hurriedly packed, already thinking that he would reinvent himself once he left Montana.

  His phone dinged as he got a text. He ignored it, figuring it was one of the investors. It dinged again. And again.

  With a curse, he pulled his cell from the pocket of his jeans and read I’m waiting. He didn’t recognize the number, but he did the photo that accompanied it, even though the snapshot was grainy and dark—except for Megan’s white dress and long blond hair. Still, there was no doubt about who was with her—a younger version of himself. He had his hands around her neck as he forcefully held her backed up against a tree. She looked as if she was fighting to pull away.

  In truth, she’d been laughing, her head thrown back. She’d been literally asking for it, but whoever had taken this didn’t know that. So maybe it wasn’t about the note. Either way, they had something they thought they could hold over him.

  He stared at the photo for a moment and then finished packing and sneaked out of the hotel, taking his suitcase down to his car before he headed into the woods. Best end this before he left.

  * * *

  POOR LITTLE RICH GIRL? Jen scoffed silently at that. Everything about Megan smelled of money, from the way she looked, to her clothes, to her perfume. Especially her perfume. Jen had never forgotten that scent. The scent had reached her long before Megan had that first day. She remembered breathing it in as if it were rarefied oxygen. In one whiff, it had embodied everything Jen wasn’t and never could be.

  She had yearned for Megan’s carefree confidence, the way she went through the world as if nothing could touch her up there so high above it all. Above the rest of them.

  Jen remembered the day Megan’s perfume order had come in at her aunt’s general store.

  “Don’t touch that,” Vi had barked. “That little bottle is worth more than you make in a year.”

  It wasn’t quite that expensive. Jen had had to use all of her savings, though, to buy a tiny vial of it. She still took it out sometimes and put it on, closing her eyes and pretending. All it took was just a drop of it—the perfume was that potent.

  The fantasy lasted only moments, though, leaving her feeling gutted, because as soon as she opened her eyes, she was faced with the truth. Not even Megan’s perfume would make Jen Mullen special.

  Wasn’t that exactly what Megan had told her when she’d caught Jen in her room wearing not just her perfume but her white sundress—the same one Megan had later died in?

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CASEY STAYED BEHIND to clean the kitchen after everyone had an excuse to leave earlier. Jen had excused herself to go to the bathroom, no doubt an excuse to get out of dishes since she hadn’t come back. Shirley had said she didn’t feel well and was going to her room. Patience said there was something she had to do as well, and the guys had all left to look for Devlin—at least, that was their excuse for getting out of chores.

  She didn’t mind doing dishes, actually. It was mindless work that let her sort out her thoughts. She’d picked up on whatever was going on with Patience and Jason. It made her think of the expression Misery makes strange bedfellows. She knew that Finn had noticed, too. It bothered her that Claude had left, though. Now everyone was thinking he was the killer and for no real reason. What would they say when she left?

  She was through cleaning up the kitchen when Jen returned. “You going down to the campfire again tonight?”

  Casey shook her head. “I have too much to do.”

  Jen laughed. “I don’t blame you for not wanting anything to do with this reunion. Bad memories, huh?” Casey said nothing, concentrating on folding up the dish towel in her hand. “Patience and Jason have come up with games, they said. Probably more truth or dare. Like anyone tells the truth.”

  Casey was straightening up the condiments on the table when she saw the scrap of paper someone had stuck under the ketchup bottle. As she pulled it out, she froze. It was a list of ingredients, she saw, for taco salad. She recognized the handwriting—the same as the writing on her bathroom mirror and on the note that was supposedly from Finn.

  “Looks like someone’s grocery list,” she said, holding it up.

  Jen glanced at it and laughed as she took the list. “Jason’s. He misspelled chipotle?” She shook her head as she wadded up the list and tossed it into the trash. Turning on her phone, she began to dance to the music as she checked the refrigerator and then the cupboards. She found a bottle of hotel wine and held it up.

  Casey nodded her assent. She still owned the hotel, so she guessed it was hers to share. She noticed how at home Jen seemed here in the hotel. She’d found the corkscrew on her first try.

  But then again, she lived in Buckhorn. She might have spent a lot of time in the hotel over the years that Casey had been gone.

  “I think I’ll take this with me, then,” Jen said and left.

  When Casey had begged off the campfire, saying she still had a lot to do, she’d been telling the truth. She wanted to find a few more items on her grandmother’s list before taking that hot bubble bath she’d been dreaming of and turning in early. It still hadn’t sunk in that with the stroke of a pen she would have sold the hotel. And the Crenshaw would no longer be hers.

  She wondered if Finn had found Devlin. She knew he wanted to question him about Claude. It did seem odd that Claude would have left without telling anyone.

  As she started to leave the kitchen, she saw Jason and Patience going down the hallway. Jason whispered something and reached for Patience’s hand. She quickly closed her palm as if to hide a note he gave her.

  Casey watched as the young woman waited until Jason left before she opened her palm and took out the note. Patience smiled as she quickly read it and pocketed the scrap of paper before she headed toward the back door.

  Of course it had been Jason who’d written the messages. But why? Maybe just to keep things interesting for him. Like Megan, it amused him to cause trouble.

  As for Patience and Jason, what were those two up to? Probably just hooking up, but still, Casey was curious. Hadn’t Patience said she was practically a newlywed? Casey watched her exit the back door and run across the parking lot, past the firepit and into the woods. It seemed odd that anyone would suggest meeting in the trees after what had happened to Megan.

  Letting the door close, Casey started to go up the back stairs when she heard someone coming. She froze, just out of view, not wanting to get caught snooping.

  Jason seemed to be in a hurry as he rushed out. She didn’t need to go to the back door to see where he was headed. But she did anyway. He crossed the parking lot, hurried past the pit and disappeared into the woods—only minutes behind Patience. Why meet in the woods when they had a hotel full of empty beds?

  She remembered that Patience had been almost giddy at dinner. Casey had assumed she’d had too much to drink and that had explained both her actions and the flush to the young woman’s cheeks.

  But now she recalled ten years ago when Jason had put a flush in her own cheeks—before he dumped her. The thought made her turn back to the hotel and the list. She needed to get away from here and the mistakes she’d made ten years ago and these people who she suspected were still playing games with each other—just as Megan had taught them.

  Hurrying upstairs, she changed her mind about looking for more of the heirlooms tonight. After a bubble bath, she wrapped herself in her robe and pulled out the list to see how much she had left to find. Too much. She set the list aside as she stepped to the window. The group had gathered around the campfire. She noticed that Jason and Patience had joined them. The scene appeared to have taken on a party-like atmosphere again sans Claude and Devlin.

  Casey watched for a moment from her partially opened window. She could smell the smoke, hear the
crackle of the fire when it wasn’t being drowned out by laughter and chatter. She could tell that everyone seemed more relaxed. Because Claude was gone? Devlin as well?

  She caught the scent of rain on the breeze and looked to the west, where thunderclouds had formed over the mountains. She’d just closed the window when her cell phone rang, making her jump. Her phone was lying on her bed. She stepped to it. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Casey.” It was Finn on the phone. She felt a wave of warmth move through her before she remembered where they’d left their earlier conversation. He’d had to leave right after dinner tonight because of an important call. “I ran down to the store before it closed. I got this craving for cookie-dough ice cream.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Don’t laugh. Can I pick up anything for you? I’ll share my ice cream if you’re interested. I don’t know about you, but I had to have a treat.”

  She could hear the noise of traffic and voices in the background. “Cookie-dough ice cream sounds great. Let me know when you get back.”

  There was a smile in his voice when he spoke. “You got it.”

  She disconnected, smiling to herself. Why did the man have to be so darned sweet? That was when she heard the footfalls outside her door.

  Not again, she told herself as she looked around for her shoulder bag—and the gun inside it. But this time the footfalls continued on past her door without stopping.

  She stood listening, holding her breath. It could have been anyone, she told herself even as she checked to see who was at the fire. The same people as before except for Claude and Devlin.

  She felt a shudder at the thought of being alone in the hotel with either of them. Because one of them knew the truth? Her gaze flew to her bathroom mirror. The words were gone and yet she still saw them clearly in her mind. I know what you did

  Down the hall, a door slammed. Her drapes blew in on a gust of wind, bringing the scent of rain as the sky darkened. She moved to close the window.

  She’d just changed into jeans and a T-shirt when her cell phone made her jump again. She snatched it up. “Hello?”

  “I’m down in the kitchen,” Finn said without preamble. “One or two scoops?”

  “Two. I’m on my way.” She disconnected and looked around the room. Her mouth felt dry, her limbs weak. Finn was right. Someone was manipulating them both. He had no idea why. But Casey thought she did as she headed for the kitchen and Finn.

  * * *

  IT HAD BEEN IMPULSIVE, calling Casey from the store. He’d wanted to get her alone after their talk earlier had been interrupted. But that wasn’t the only reason he’d called her. He’d had a bad feeling after he and Jason hadn’t found Devlin.

  He’d assumed everyone would be down at the campfire, leaving her alone in that monstrous place. If Devlin and Claude had really left. If one or both of them hadn’t pulled the note and perfume stunts. If there wasn’t more going on here than it appeared. He didn’t trust any of them.

  Everyone was a little too quick to blame Claude. It made Finn nervous to think that if Claude hadn’t really left, he could come back and do whatever damage he wanted without any of them being the wiser.

  Finn had been concerned that Casey might be a target from the moment he’d realized she hadn’t sent the reunion invitations—and that some of the staff seemed to have some animosity toward her. He’d never met her grandmother, but he knew she would have wanted him to keep Casey safe.

  At the same time, he found himself getting in deeper and deeper with her. That almost kiss had only made him realize just how deep. Hell, he’d half fallen in love with her from what her grandmother had written about her over those years when they’d been together in this hotel.

  Once he’d met her... He thought of her standing at the open shower holding that gun on him. He chuckled to himself. It was simple. The woman had enchanted him because of the stories he’d heard about her. Once he’d met her, he’d been smitten. He’d never once thought she could have murdered Megan. Even now, knowing that she was holding back something, he still didn’t.

  He’d been hiding out for months, using Megan as an excuse not to take that next challenge after he’d sold his business. He’d lost both parents, lost his drive. He’d dropped out of life. Then Casey Crenshaw had walked into his shower.

  Finn had felt the chemistry and suspected she had, too, even as she was threatening to have him arrested for trespassing. She’d made him want to join the human race again. Making an offer on the hotel had forced him to come out of hiding. He knew it wouldn’t be long before the media found out. He wasn’t looking forward to the headlines again, but he could handle it.

  But now he could feel the clock ticking. The reunion would be over after tomorrow. Casey might be planning to leave as soon as she’d packed up her grandmother’s things. That was one of the reasons he’d called her from the store. He felt alive when he was with her. He wanted to spend as much time as he could with her.

  He’d also really been craving cookie-dough ice cream.

  He was just glad it had gotten her out of her room. Now, if she would just tell him what it was she was hiding.

  At a sound, he turned, a smile instantly coming to his face at just the sight of her in the doorway. “Two scoops,” he said as he finished filling their bowls.

  “I know who left the note that got us to Megan’s old room,” she said as she watched him. He turned to look back at her. “Jason. I recognized his handwriting from a grocery list he made.” Finn swore. “Who knows why? He was probably just trying to stir things up. He seems to be enjoying this reunion a little too much.”

  “He’s jealous.”

  She stared at him. “What?”

  “You haven’t seen the way he looks at you?”

  She shook her head. “You are so wrong.”

  Finn looked as if he wanted to argue the point but let it drop as he handed her a bowl of ice cream. “Want to sit in here or out in the main hall?”

  “Here is good,” she said, glancing around the large industrial kitchen before moving to one of the chairs at the staff table.

  “This is where I ate all my meals,” she said as he took a seat at the corner of the table near her.

  “You didn’t eat in the dining room with your grandmother?”

  She shook her head. “Not a chance. It was hard enough with the rest of the staff when I ate with them. They were always careful about what they said around me for fear I’d tell Gram on them. They knew right away that I wasn’t one of them. And yet I was. I complained once early on to her about one of the staff and found out quickly enough that it wasn’t allowed. She used to say getting along with the crew was the best experience I could ask for. She was right. It’s helped me with managing a large hotel. I use a lot of her methods to deal with my staff.”

  “I was in the same situation working with my father in his landscaping business,” Finn said between bites. “I quickly learned not to be the son of the boss. It’s a good way to get your butt kicked.” He laughed. “Also, it keeps you humble to know that, when push comes to shove, you’ll be let go before one of your father’s valuable employees. Nothing like life’s lessons, huh?” he said, lifting his spoon as if in a salute before taking another bite of ice cream.

  “You didn’t take over your father’s business.”

  “No. It wasn’t what I wanted to do. He took it pretty well. I knew he’d built it up for me, and I appreciated that, but I wanted something else.” He met her gaze. “You enjoy what you do?”

  She chuckled. “Most days, I do. After college, getting into hotel management just seemed like the thing to do. It’s all I really knew. There is always something that needs my attention. The days just fly by.”

  “I would imagine it was like that here for your grandmother.”

  Casey nodded. “She was definitely busy, but she thrived on it.” She looked arou
nd the kitchen for a moment before she took another bite of ice cream.

  “Are you sad about selling it?”

  She nodded without looking up. “I would have loved to keep her legacy alive, but even if I had the resources to keep this old place going, I’m not sure there are enough guests who are looking for this experience in Buckhorn, Montana.” After a moment, she met his gaze across the table. “You haven’t said what you’re going to do with it.”

  “I still really don’t know,” he said with a laugh. “But I’m not sorry. And Devlin and his investors are never going to get it.”

  Casey smiled at that, their gazes locking across the table. Finn felt his heart expand as if filled with helium. Her cheeks seemed to heat before she glanced down at her ice cream again. “This is good. Thank you.”

  “Glad you were up for it. It wouldn’t be half as much fun eating it alone down here.” He glanced around the kitchen. “I can’t say this place has grown on me, although I do have a greater respect for haunted hotels.”

  She cocked her head at him, seemingly glad for a change in subject that wasn’t quite so personal. “You aren’t going to start that again, are you?”

  He shook his head. “Guess you’ll have to experience the ghosts yourself. Or not. Depends on how long you end up staying.”

  “Not long enough for the ghosts to know I’m here, I hope,” she joked.

  He watched her finish her ice cream. A lot of it had melted since she was eating it so slowly. Stalling? Because she liked his company as much as he liked hers?

  “Did something happen while I was gone?” he asked, eyeing her. He’d heard something in her tone. “What was it? The noises?” He shook his head. “You are probably used to them since it wasn’t that long ago that you stayed here summers. This place was an antique even then. No, I’m guessing it was the footsteps.” There was the slightest flicker in her eyes. He nodded, chuckling as he got up to rinse out his bowl.