Reunion in Death

Her smile faltered a little, but she began to work with her screen. «That room is blocked for a guest arriving this evening. If you'd like another room with a kitchenette, perhaps-«

He felt Eve reach down, knew she was going for her badge. He gave her hand a warning squeeze. «It's 911 we need.» He'd already measured her. Some you bribed, some you intimidated, some you flattered. And others you simply rolled over. «The name's Roarke, and my wife and I will be needing that particular room for a bit. If there's a problem with that, you should speak to your supervisor.»

«Just one moment, sir.» Her face wasn't so friendly now, and her voice had cooled to that «You're a troublemaker» tone. She slipped through a door behind the counter. It took only twenty seconds or so before a man came rushing out ahead of her.

«I apologize for the wait, Mr. Roarke. I'm afraid my clerk didn't understand. We weren't expecting-«

«We need the room. Room 911. I take it you understand?»

«Of course, of course.» He tapped nervous fingers over the screen. «Whatever we can do for you. Welcome to The Traveler's Inn. Angelina, get Mr. Roarke's keycode and guest packet. We have two restaurants,» he continued. «Marc's for fine dining, and The Corral for casual. May I make any reservations for you?»

«That won't be necessary.»

«The Sunset Lounge is open from eleven a.m. to two a.m., and our gift shop carries souvenirs, apparel, snacks, and various sundries» The words tumbled out of his lips and he looked slightly terrified. «May I ask how long you and your wife plan to stay with us?»

«Not long.» Roarke handed over a debit card.

«Ah, yes, thank you. I'll just scan this. We'll be happy to assist you with any of your plans or needs while you're in Dallas. Transportation, sightseeing, theater.»

«Just the room, please.»

«Of course. Yes, indeed.» He handed back the debit card, then offered the keycode and the guest packet. «Will you need assistance with your luggage?»

«No. See that we're not disturbed, won't you?»

«Of course. Yes. If you need anything, anything at all…» he called after them as they walked to the elevators.

«He's wondering if we're going up there for some quick sex,» Eve said. «You don't own this place, do you?»

«I don't, no, but he's certainly wondering if I'm going to.»

The elevator opened and yawned, Eve thought, like a big, greedy mouth. She stepped into it. «I could've used my badge, kept your name out of it.»

«This was simple enough.»

«I guess. Anyway, it took my mind off things, watching you work him. Another ten seconds of you, and he'd've babbled.»

The elevator doors opened again. She stood where she was, staring out at the quiet hallway.

«It was dark,» she managed. «I think it was dark, and he was pissed off. But there were so many places, I'm not sure if I'm mixing it up with somewhere else. I was only outside the room twice, once when we went in. Once when I went out. I'm sure of that. It was almost always that way.»

«He can't lock you in anymore.»

«No.» She stiffened her spine and walked out into the hall. «It smelled like wet socks. That's what I thought. Like wet, dirty socks, and I was tired. Hungry. I hoped he'd go out, get us something to eat. But more, I hoped he'd just go out. It's that way.» She gestured toward the left.

It was to the left, and five rooms down.

«I'm scared stupid. Don't let me run.»

«You won't run. Eve.» He turned her face to his, touched his mouth to hers. «You were always stronger than him. Always.»

«Let's see if you're right. Open it.»

You just go through the door, she told herself. That's what you do.

How many times had she done just that, knowing death waited on the other side hoping to take her? There was no one on the other side of this door but ghosts.

The roar in her head was nearly a scream when she stepped in.

It was tidy, clean, pleasantly appointed. Viewing discs were fanned out artistically on a low table beside an arrangement of fake flowers. The floor was carpeted in a pale beige.

Was there blood on the floor under it? she wondered. Was his blood still there?

The bed was covered in a spread exploding with what she thought might have been poppies. A work area had been built into a corner and held a small, practical communication center. The kitchenette was separated from the sleeping area by an eating counter. There was a bowl on it holding a display of nubby fruit.

Through the window she could see another building, but there was no sign, no flashing light, no wash of dirty red.

«Looks like they redecorated.» The feeble attempt at humor echoed back at her. «We never stayed in places like this as nice as this that I remember. Nothing this clean and, well, tended, I guess, as this is now. Sometimes there were two rooms, so I had my own bed. But sometimes I slept on the floor. I slept on the floor.»

Her gaze was pulled down, over. She could see herself there, if she let it happen, see herself huddled on the floor under a thin blanket.