I’d edged over a few more feet and was now fairly close to her. She’d blown out her hair in long, pretty waves, and she was wearing about twenty-five minutes’ worth of makeup,including enough lip gloss to slow down any vehicle attempting to cross from one side of her mouth to the other.
“Why’d you switch?” I asked, curious.
She shook her head in disgust. “I finallydidmeet the owner, and he gave me the creeps. Every time I came out of the room, he seemed to be staring out that plate-glass window, eyeing me.”
I didn’t like the sound of that. Dobbs had spent more than his fair share of time watching Shannon Blaine from the same spot. I made a mental note to ask Alice more about the guy since she was the one who had initially interviewed him for thePost Star.
“It was probably smart to trust your gut,” I told her. “Especially in light of everything that’s going on.” I reached in my bag for a business card and handed it to her. “Just in case I can ever be of help.”
This was the moment when she might have introduced herself, but she chose not to.
“Thanks, have a nice evening” was all she said. At the moment at least, she was an under-the-radar kind of girl. Well, that was fine by me. I was about to enjoy a night of blissful carbo-loading.
I started to say goodbye and caught myself. “Oh, by the way. The night you checked in, did you have any reason to stop near my door? Unit seven. I thought I heard someone out there.”
“Uh, yes, sorry. When I got out of my car in front of my room, I thought I’d left the key in the office. I started to walk back there and was digging in my purse at the same time. I finally figured out I had the key all along.”
So it sounded like the night manager’s take had been right.
“Oh, okay, thanks. Have a nice evening, too.”
The sun had set by now, but I found Alice’s road easily enough, grateful for my car’s GPS since the sign was partially obscured by a leafy branch. It turned out to be a dirt road, lined close to the edge with trees, not unlike the one leading to the retreat center in Sunset Bay. By this point, I’d let my curiosity unfurl about whatever Alice had stumbled on and deemed “scary.”
I passed three homes as I bumped down the road, all of them tucked into the trees on the right. Finally Alice’s house materialized at the very end. I wouldn’t have called it a cabin as she had. It was a nice-size house, painted a rustic brown and sporting a peaked roof. The downstairs glowed with warm, amber-tinged light.
After parking my car next to the red MINI, I hurried up the short flagstone path. Once I was within a few yards of the house, I could see through the windows that the ground floor had an open design plan, with the kitchen and dining areas closer to the front and the living space at the back, facing the lake. There seemed to be a patio running along there, illuminated from lights attached above.
The dining table wasn’t set, but I remembered that Alice had said we’d eat on the screened porch if the weather obliged. It was farther back on the left, I noticed, though Alice hadn’t flicked those lights on yet.
Mounting the front steps, I heard music and smiled to myself. So Alice was a Brandi Carlile fan, too. I went to reachfor the handle and discovered that the door was actually open several inches. Alice might be in the shower or getting dressed, I realized, and had left it open in case she didn’t hear me from upstairs.
“Knock, knock,” I called out, stepping into the kitchen area. There was nothing simmering or braising on the stovetop, but a dozen red potatoes rested on the counter, along with a luscious-looking homemade pie, which explained why the air was redolent with the smell of apples and cinnamon. It was slightly chilly inside, I noticed, probably from the door being left ajar. I pushed it closed behind me.
I shrugged off my jacket and hung it on a peg by the door.
“Alice?” I said, my voice raised. When she didn’t answer, I lowered the volume on the iPod speakers on the counter and called her name again.
There was still no response, but a sound emanated suddenly from the front of the house, a whoosh and then a snap, like someone flapping a piece of wet laundry. I took two steps toward it but the sound ceased. Then started again. Stopped. Startedagain. What the hell?
I was halfway across the dining area when the source of the noise swooped above my head. A freakingbat.
“Shit,” I yelled, ducking. The bat vanished back into the living area, only to sail through the room again seconds later, this time smacking into the window and dropping with a sad little thud to the ground.
I backed into the kitchen and jerked open the door to a narrow closet next to the fridge. There was a corn broominside and I grabbed it, then flung open the kitchen door. Using the broom, I nudged the bat toward freedom. The second it reached the threshold, it unfurled its wings and went airborne again.
I slammed the door and spun around. “Alice,” I yelled again, this time even louder than before. Had the bat freaked her out so that she’d hightailed it upstairs for cover?
After wandering into the living room, I spotted the enclosed staircase to the second floor and, leaning into it, called Alice’s name twice more. Not a peep. My heart was beating a little faster than normal by this point. I pivoted toward the front of the house and peered out to the patio, which was aglow from the overhead lights. She had to be outside.
I opened the rear door and stepped onto a flagstone patio. Bordered in front by a low stone wall, it sat atop a small embankment and ran the width of the house. The lake stretched out below, black except for the shimmering reflection of light on the water closest to shore. Alice was nowhere to be seen, and the only sound was from the water lapping below.
I glanced to my right. A set of stone steps descended from the patio to the lake, illuminated by metal light fixtures with tops like mushroom caps. I took a step in that direction, and my eye caught sight of a stemless wineglass sitting on the ledge of the wall to the left of the steps. It still held a splash of white wine. Had Alice set it there and gone down to the lake?
My stomach tightened. Something was off.
I grabbed hold of the black wrought iron railing and began to descend the steps. I was halfway down when I heard a rustling noise from above me. I spun around, my heart ricocheting against my chest.
“Alice?” I called out.
