It bothered him to think a woman could cloud his mind and interfere with his work. It had never happened before.
Cain didn’t like it.
* * *
Jenny worked through the lunch rush, then headed for her small office in the hotel lobby.
She went over to the stack of journals on top of a file cabinet, picked up a couple, and sat down at her desk. The first ledger was full of the same type of entries as all the others, problems with the room or the bathroom, accounts of hearing noises in the hall or in the room—ghost experiences, the guest believed.
One reported seeing a hazy figure at the foot of the bed that disappeared. Eerie laughter, cold spots, objects moving, and doors opening and closing. She had been hearing those sorts of tales since she was a kid and never given them much thought. But after the unexplained experiences she’d had upstairs herself, she was paying closer attention.
She picked up another journal, this one dated fifteen years ago, and began thumbing through the pages. Her fingers stilled at a lengthy account scrolled delicately in what appeared to be a woman’s handwriting.
Mr. and Mrs. Don Dennison October 1st,, guests in room 10.
Jenny’s interest sharpened.
We had a terrifying night. Don and I have been married for twenty years, and I have never seen him behave as he did last night. It was after two in the morning when I awakened to the sound of heavy breathing in the room. Someone is in here, I thought, feeling uneasy, but there was enough moonlight coming in through the window that I could see no one was there.
A ghost, I thought, amused. We had both read stories about Jerome. We thought it would be fun to actually see a ghost. I wasn’t afraid. I wasn’t even sure I believed in spirits.
The heavy breathing faded, and I started to go back to sleep. That’s when I realized Don was awake. He was sitting up in bed right beside me, staring straight ahead.
“Don, are you all right?” I asked.
Don didn’t answer. When he turned toward me, his eyes looked black and empty. The way his mouth had flattened out, the way his nostrils flared, he looked like a completely different person.
For the first time, I began to feel afraid. I started to get out of bed, but Don pulled me back down and climbed on top of me. Though he had never acted this way before, I didn’t try to stop him. Not until I felt his hands slide up around my throat and he began to choke off my air. I tried to scream, but no sound came out. He was always a gentle lover, but that night he pried my legs apart and forced himself on me.
This wasn’t my Don. This man was rough and cruel. It was as if another man had invaded my husband’s body. I started crying, tears streaming down my face as I tried to pry his hands away from my throat so I could breathe.
I started whispering his name over and over. Don, please. Don, you’re hurting me. Don, I love you.
For the first time, the words seemed to reach him. He started shaking. He looked down at me, at his hands wrapped around my throat, and his eyes widened. A look of horror came over his face, and he jerked away.
“Mary, dear God! Mary! Did I hurt you? Mary, are you all right?” Don knelt on the floor at my side. “Oh, God what have I done?”
I don’t know how, but I knew it wasn’t his fault. In twenty years, he had never acted this way. I told him we needed to leave. We had to get out of the hotel right this minute. We packed and headed downstairs.
There was no one in the lobby. A green glass lamp on the desk cast dim light into the room, and the journal sat open next to the lamp. I had read pages when we had checked in. While Don went to get the car, I started writing. I want someone to know what happened.
What you are reading is a true and accurate account of what occurred last night in room 10.
* * *
Jenny just sat there. Her muscles felt frozen. She had to force herself to breathe.Dear sweet God.
One thought after another tumbled through her brain. Uncle Charlie had closed that section of the hotel not long after the entry in the journal. Had he read what Mary Dennison had written? Or had something even worse occurred?
She sat another minute, her mind darting from the past to the present, to the murder that had just taken place in the same room. With a steadying breath, she bookmarked the page and closed the journal.
She glanced at her watch. She was past due at the Grandview. Nell Barrett would be there. Nell knew things about Jerome, things that had happened over the years.
Jenny grabbed her purse and the journal and headed for the door.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CAIN WORKED ALL AFTERNOON. HE’D LEFT WORD HE WASN’T TO BEdisturbed. His staff knew better than to disobey his orders unless it was an emergency.
