Chapter 3

Steve Dutton was the first to jump in.

Steve: [Ray, you're already at the hotel. Why are you just sitting there?]

Someone else followed up: [Go up and take one look. It's not going to kill you.]

[Clint's this upset, and you're still asking questions?]

[Seven years of friendship. Not helping at a time like this is hard to justify.]

I stared at the screen full of messages, my fingertips cold and numb.

I couldn't explain the comments. I couldn't tell them there might be a body in Room 1608, either. If I did, they'd just think I'd lost my mind.

Clint sent me another message.

Clint: [Ray, ignore them. Just go up, enter the code, go in, and send me a video. It'll only take a minute.]

One minute.

Long enough for me to leave a record on the door lock.

Long enough to leave my fingerprints.

Long enough to become the first person to find the scene.

And long enough that there'd be no explaining it away afterward.

I held the phone close to my ear and asked softly, "Clint, are you sure you want me to open that door alone?"

"I'm sure," he said.

I checked the call recording icon one more time. The red dot was still blinking.

Clint didn't know I was recording. Nor did he know that, from his very first line telling me not to go to the front desk, I'd saved every word he said.

The group chat was still arguing. Steve tagged me.

Steve: [@Ray, say something.]

Steve: [You're not seriously going to let Clint fall apart alone on that train, are you?]

Steve: [You know how he's always treated you. Don't you?]

I knew full well that the two of us had been looking out for each other in this unfamiliar city for seven years. And because of those seven years, I'd come to this hotel.

I searched my heart. I'd treated Clint well, and he hadn't treated me badly, either.

But what about these comments that had appeared out of nowhere?

If they were real, what was I supposed to do? And what would happen to Clint?

Clint pressed me again over the phone. "Ray, is the elevator there yet?"

"No."

"You still haven't gone in?"

"The front desk says visitors can't just go up to the guest floors."

I said that on purpose. The Prescolt was an apartment hotel, and security wasn't very tight at night, but I wanted to see how he'd react.

"Forget the front desk," Clint said right away. "Isn't there a freight elevator off to the side? You can get up that way too."

I was stunned, cold sweat pouring down my back.

Until then, I'd only been suspicious. But that one sentence made me certain that Clint had done something.

I slowly looked up. At the far end of the lobby, there really was a staff elevator, with a sign on it that read Staff Only.

I'd never been to this hotel before.

But Clint knew it.

The comments scrolled past.

[He's been here.]

[More than once.]

[Ask him how he knows about the freight elevator.]

"How do you know there's a freight elevator over there?" I asked.

Clint stopped short. "I... I went there with Lainey once before."

"When?"

"A long time ago."

"Didn't you say you didn't know about her habit of staying at hotels?"

His voice suddenly shot up. "Ray! Is this really the time for this?"

I didn't make a sound.

He took a few heavy breaths and forced his voice back down. "I'm just really afraid he'll get away. Help me this one time, and I'll do anything you ask from now on."

"Then call the police right now."

"I can't call the police!"