An Unwanted Guest(62)

‘Henry!’ Beverly shrieks again, shaking him harder, panicking.

David rises swiftly and goes over to Henry, but there’s nothing to be done. Beverly is now sobbing hysterically. David looks up and meets Gwen’s eyes, and sees pure fear.

James slowly gets up and makes his stumbling way to the reception desk. David watches as James dials the number, his hands shaking, and realizes he’s holding his breath. To his profound relief, the phone appears to be working. At last.

James speaks into the phone, his voice breaking, ‘We need help.’





Sunday, 6:45 AM


Sergeant Margaret Sorensen, fortyish, stocky, blonde hair going grey, always an early riser, is enjoying her Sunday morning coffee at home in her favourite, least flattering flannel pyjamas when she gets a call from one of the officers at the station.

‘Ma’am, we’ve got a situation out at Mitchell’s Inn.’ Officer Lachlan sounds tense, which is unusual. He’s generally a laid-back sort, especially good with community events.

‘What kind of situation?’ she asks, putting her coffee cup down.

‘We just had a phone call from the owner there. James Harwood. He said at least three people have been murdered, maybe more.’

‘Is this a prank?’ she asks in disbelief.

‘I don’t think so, ma’am.’

She can tell from his voice that he doesn’t believe the call was anything but genuine. Good God, she thinks, shocked.

‘We need to get out there, ma’am.’ He’s breathing quickly, shallowly down the line.

‘Who’ve you got there?’

‘Perez and Wilcox. We’ll get the snowmobiles ready. No other way out there at this point.’

‘I’d better let the chief know. I’ll be there in ten minutes.’ Good thing she lives so close to the station; it’s just around the corner.





Sunday, 7:35 AM


Sergeant Sorensen pushes the snowmobile hard over the ice-covered snow up the long, winding drive to Mitchell’s Inn. She has gunned it as fast as she can all the way from town.

A triple homicide. Things like this are rare up here. They don’t even have a detective at the station. She will have to do until New York State Police can send someone. Officer Lachlan had briefed her more fully when she arrived at the station, but the facts are sketchy. Three guests and the owner’s son are dead, and another guest is missing. She is shocked. She doesn’t know what they might be walking into. She’s familiar with the hotel, and with the family. Young Bradley – dead. She can hardly believe it. Her adrenaline is pumping fiercely as they approach the final curve in the long drive.

She cuts the engine outside the hotel on the brittle, glittering lawn. She reaches for her gun and gestures to the other officers parking their snowmobiles to do the same. They approach the front entrance cautiously, their heavy boots sliding on the ice. It’s so cold she can see her breath.

Sorensen notices a smear of blood on the ice near the front porch, and silently points it out. She creeps up the side of the porch steps and looks in the window. Finally, she pulls open the front door, her weapon ready. It opens easily. She steps inside the lobby and her eyes automatically turn towards the group around the fireplace. She sees pale faces peering out from blankets, staring back at her. She thinks, I will always remember this moment.

She hears the three officers coming in behind her. She takes in everything with her quick eyes. The people sitting around the fire look haggard and dishevelled, as if they haven’t slept. As if they’ve survived some kind of siege. She recognizes James, blindsided by the loss of his only son. She feels a stab of pity for him. She counts eight survivors sitting around the fire. No, make that seven. On closer inspection, one of the chairs is holding a corpse.

She approaches the small gathering, holstering her weapon. ‘I’m Sergeant Sorensen, and these are’ – she indicates each with a nod of her head – ‘Officers Lachlan, Perez, and Wilcox. We’re here now, and we’re going to help you.’ She tries to sound authoritative and reassuring at the same time. Sorensen steps forward to look more closely at the dead man. She can’t tell from looking at him whether he was murdered or died of natural causes.

She takes in the pallid faces looking up at her and wishes fervently that the medical examiner and the forensics team were here with her. She has no idea how long it will be until the roads are passable. She’s on her own here.

‘For now, I’m afraid everybody has to stay put,’ she tells them. ‘There’s no way to get you all safely into town. We’re going to take a look around, then I will have questions for all of you. When the roads are clear, you will be taken into town to the station to give official statements. In the meantime, I need all of you to help me as much as you can.’

She gets a few weary nods in response. ‘Before I look around, I need someone to put me in the picture here. Just a quick overview for now.’ Her eyes light on a man in his late thirties with an intelligent look about him. ‘What’s your name?’ she asks in a friendly way.

‘David Paley.’

She pulls up a chair and sits down beside him. ‘Maybe you could tell me who everybody is, and then tell me what happened.’

She listens grimly as he gives her the story. When he’s finished, she says to them all, ‘We’ll look for Riley, just as soon as we can.’