“Go ahead and do your normal shift. You get off at three a.m., right?” Brig still eyed me with suspicion.
“Yep, three a.m.” I smiled. Too bad I hardly knew Ginny’s personality. Maybe she would’ve complained or given him a hard time. Or he might be testing me, and she really got off at onea.m. or something.
But Brig was satisfied with my response. “Alright then. Tell me if there are any problems.”
I frowned at my phone. It was midnight, which meant I’d need to stay at the reception desk for three more hours before I could do anything productive. I yawned. At least I could do some research online. Maybe something would come up. The spell would wear off after four or five hours, leaving me with little time to investigate the resort.
Tied to the desk, I surrendered and sank into the receptionist’s chair. I pulled out my phone, and sure enough, the news reported a tremendous storm rolling into the area. So that must’ve been why Ginny believed my story. But if the police had Wickham, he might be stuck at the station for a long time.
Since nobody was checking in or out of the lodge between twelve a.m. and three a.m., I pulled out a piece of scrap paper to take notes on as I did some research online.
Current clues: Two people related to the Grey Doors were dead. One of them was inexplicably at the lodge with me and Wickham. It made little sense.
I searched the Grey Doors online and studied the faces of the band members. Wickham, Bradley, Ernesto, Zoe, Harley, and Mathis were the only people left standing.Wickham had suggested to the other band members that they get out of town for a while. So, either one of them had to be the killer or someone was following band members and they were all in danger.
Their social media accounts featured loads of candid photos of shows and backstage events. The photos revealed some of the group dynamics. Harley liked to stand back a bit from the major action, like she didn’t aspire to be in the limelight. Mathis had to be a serial dater. He was with a different girl in nearly every photo. Ernesto was generally alone, but certainly admired. He’d recently started dating Anne de Bourgh. Bradley held back a bit, similar to Harley. Zoe smiled radiantly in most of the photos, like she truly enjoyed being there. Wickham looked serious, older than his twenty-six years. Even in the photos, it was apparent that the band meant a lot to him. He was a genuine artist.
In several photos, Wickham and Bradley were in the background chatting with each other while the other band members goofed around. A few consistent groupies popped up, mostly female. Alex was not in too many photos, and he was the most stoic of the group. Except there were a few where he looked eager to betalking to Harley or Zoe. He seemed to have a better connection with the female band members than with the guys. A few photos depicted him embracing an unfamiliar woman with black hair. In a couple of photos, he glared at Wickham.
What if he envied how many girls liked Wickham? That explained why he was so rude when Wickham introduced me to the group. Then I noticed the Celtic ring Wickham had taken from him. Wickham said he found the ring in Alex’s hand, that Alex wasn’t wearing it. But in the most recent photos, he wore it on his ring finger. Could he have had a secret relationship?
I listed each band member’s name on a piece of paper,crossing off those I’d ruled out. If, perhaps, one of them was the person in the wig, only Harley, Zoe, and maybe Tim had the right body-type. But, with Tim gone, that ruled him out. Mathis, Ernesto, and Bradley were easy to rule out, each being too tall. So the only people I suspected were the groupies, or band member girls.
Chapter 11
Outsidethelodgewindows,the gently falling powder turned into a raging blizzard. Gales of wind dumped loads of sleet on the ground, and the real Ginny was probably relieved to be long gone. With the roads in such a condition, I doubted I would see Wickham anytime soon. Even if the police had finished questioning him, several inches of fresh snow covered the ground. That also meant the weather trapped the killer at the resort, giving me the opportunity to uncover their identity.
At three a.m., a sleepy young man joined me at the counter.
“Hi, Ginny,” the young man with spiky blond hair, whose nametag read Zack, greeted me. “Good thing I drove up here earlier. The roads are all blocked. You might want to ask Brig for a room to bunk in tonight.”
“Yep, I’ll do that. No driving in this snow.” I nodded. “It’s been a slow night.”
“Well, I heard about the dead guy in cabin 217. Kinda freaky.” Zack took a sip from his thermos.
“Hospitality business.” I shrugged, hoping my response was normal enough. “You never know what’s going to happen.”
Zack nodded. “You got that right. Have a good night.”
Now it was time for the real test. I’d already pocketed the spare key for 319. I told myself I had the guts to go sneak in. But as I trudged across the dark mountain resort, snow piling up on my jacket and coming halfway up my shins with every footstep, my heart pounded like a racehorse and my stomach twisted itself in knots.
If the person in 319 really did kill Tim, what was to stop them from being up in the night, plotting their next victim’s death? Or my death? I shuddered.
Before I realized it, I was standing in front of 319. The interior lights were off, and a single bulb lit the porch. Shivering in the freezing cold, my first instinct was to turn around and get to my cabin as quickly as possible. But I finally had Wickham, and I wasn’t ready to lose him. So I had to at least try to see who was in there. Before their band was big, I’d watched him play a gig in some basement venue when they’d come through AustenHeights. He was the most beautiful creature I’d ever laid eyes on. Now he was technically myhusband, which I scarcely comprehended. And the only thing stopping us from being together might be whoever was in that cabin.
I pulled the key from my pocket and trudged up to the cabin’s deck. I reached for the doorknob. But my muscles wouldn’t move. I couldn’t get myself to put the key in the latch. Instead, I fought a mental battle with myself.
Come on, Lydia. Wickham is worth it.
But if I’m dead, I still won’t get Wickham.
My hand shook as I tried once more. It was of no use. So, instead, I pulled out my phone. I was a scaredy-cat.
I crept around to the side of the cabin and peered through the cracks between the curtains. No one was awake, so I flashed my phone’s light through the windows, looking for any clues. At first, nothing stood out. From what I saw, which wasn’t a lot, the cabin was nearly identical to mine.
Some papers were scattered across the desk. They were the Grey Doors concert fliers, along with a man’s wallet and a car key. I gulped. I thought it was a woman I’d seen in the lodge. She must’vestolen Tim’s things.
I opened my camera app, turned off the flash, and snapped two quick photos. Ice and snow crunched beneath my boots as I stepped to the side of the window and listened. The winter night’s chill slowed all of my movements. No one stirred, so I continued investigating anything visible through the barely open curtains.
