The Lies They Tell(58)
The window was directly above her now, and Pearl stopped, looking up. Like the rest, the glass was cloudy and streaked, but she imagined it having lace curtains before, maybe a window seat beneath. She took a few steps, and sunlight bounced off the panes, vanished, flashed again. Like a signal. A beacon saying look at me.
She stood there, reminded of another flashing light, a flicker, really, one she’d pushed from her thoughts as residue from Reese’s talk of hauntings. Another signal. Maybe.
Pearl went back around the house and replaced the planter, making sure she hadn’t left any sign of her presence before dragging the gate shut behind her and heading for the trees, faster and faster, until she was running. She had her phone to her ear before she even made it back to the car, relieved when Reese picked up after only two rings.
“I think I know where to look.”
Twenty
“HOW MUCH TIME do you think you’ll need?”
“I don’t know. Probably not a whole hour?” Pearl saw the look on Reese’s face and tossed her hands up. It was the next night, and the dining room and the start of their dinner shift waited beyond the kitchen doors, strains of Steve Mills singing “When Sunny Gets Blue” rising over the current of conversation. “Well, there are a lot of rooms. And I don’t know what I’m looking for.”
“But you’ll know it when you see it, huh?” When she shrugged, he sighed, glancing over at the rear entrance to the kitchen. “How sure are you about this?”
“It’s a feeling. I’m going to do it either way. You don’t have to help.”
“Haskins, I’m helping. You’re the one who actually cares about keeping her job here.” He took her shoulders and steered her ahead of him, massaging her like a fighter. “If Meriwether comes sniffing around, I’ll give her an ankle to chew on until you’re clear. Sound good?”
“Thanks, Reese. I mean it.”
He split off from her, and the evening began, passing far too quickly, the hours slipping through her fingers as she greeted and served and cleared away, nervous energy propelling her toward what was easily one of the craziest things she’d ever done.
At nine o’clock closing time, Pearl wiped down her section, topped off the salt and pepper shakers, and made a pretense of counting her tips as the other servers prepared to go home. Then, grabbing her bag, she went to the staff restrooms, chose a stall, and climbed up on the toilet tank, where her feet couldn’t be seen beneath the door.
The restroom had already been cleaned for the night, and everything was damp, smelling of bleach. She closed her eyes, listening to the distant sound of footsteps, the occasional laugh carrying from the kitchen. Overhead, the energy-saver sensor light turned off, leaving her in blackness.
Eventually, all sound stopped. Pearl shifted on the cold porcelain, checking the time on her phone. Nearly a quarter to ten. Everybody must be out by now. She slid down, making the light blink on again, and went to the door, peering out.
The sconces in the corridor were still on. She had no idea whose job it was to make sure all the lobby lights were off at night, but generally everybody who worked the front desk and office was gone by five o’clock. Except sometimes salaried employees, like Meriwether.
With that, there were footsteps, and Pearl jerked back through the doorway, forcing the slow-close door shut with her hip. Light, quick steps across the hardwood, joined by others, and Meriwether’s voice rang out in the silence. “Mr. O’Shaughnessy? Can I help you?”
“Not unless you’ve got my car keys.” Reese spoke in the usual bored monotone he used with the assistant manager. “Can’t find them anywhere.”
A short, tense sigh. “I haven’t seen any keys. It’s way past closing time, so I suggest you call someone for a ride.”
“I can’t just leave my car here. Look, they’re around somewhere—I went to the bathroom during my break, so maybe—”
“No one is supposed to be back here.” Pearl pictured the telltale vein standing out in Meriwether’s brow. “You already have one write-up. It would be wise not to push it. If you don’t have a phone handy, use the lobby line.”
“Okay, okay.” Reese muttered something more under his breath.
“What did you say?” The silence stretched on, so long that Pearl strained her ears, wondering what she was missing. Then it hit her: the restroom was still bathed in light; the motion sensor hadn’t timed out yet. Meriwether could be staring at the strip of light beneath the door right now.
Pearl shoved the manual switch over, sending the room into darkness again. The moment stretched on—then Meriwether said, “I asked you to repeat yourself.”
“I said, yeah, I’ve got a phone. Right here, see?”
“Very impressive. Use it outside in the parking lot.”
Pearl listened as their footsteps left together; there was no way Meriwether could resist seeing him to the door to make sure he obeyed. Sagging against the wall, Pearl waited. A few minutes later, Meriwether’s footsteps passed by again, and the corridor light disappeared from the space beneath the restroom door.
She didn’t poke her head out again until she absolutely couldn’t stand it anymore. There was a faint reddish glow spilling over the floor from the lobby exit sign; everything else was dark and silent. Go time.