at men who are total strangers and feel the urge to tear their boxer shorts off with your teeth. You become
attracted to a guy who probably bowls every Tuesday night and has a best friend named Choppy.
I pushed the thought of Beck from my mind, deciding it was a complete aberration—like one of those blinding pains you get
in your temple one day that convinces you you have a brain tumor the size of a beefsteak tomato but then never occurs again—and
attempted to find my way back to the inn. I got lost twice, once so badly that I was forced to stop and ask directions. When
I drove through the gate fifteen minutes later, I saw two TV vans parked on the road outside and an array of police vehicles
still in the parking lot.
I was so absolutely zonked from the night before, I had to fight off the urge to return to my room and crawl into bed. But
if I was going to learn anything between now and Monday morning, I’d have to use every minute I had. The first thing I wanted
to do before meeting up with Danny was check out the back door to the spa. Since the parking lot was taped off, I walked around
the west side of the inn, following a path that bordered the gardens.
Once I was behind the inn, I saw that the area directly in back of the spa was taped off as well, though I could see the rear
door from the small incline that rose behind the building. There was a fir tree near the door, and several birches, and it
would certainly have been easy for someone with a key to slip in without being noticed. It was impossible for me to tell from
my vantage point whether the lock had been broken.
Following the yellow police tape, which flapped with a snapping sound in the autumn breeze, I continued walking east until
I could see the parking lot and the main entrance of the spa. I gazed at the spot where I had stood in the darkness last night.
Despite what Beck had said, I had no recollection of having seen anything suspicious—no movement inside, no movement in the
parking lot.
The next thing to check out was the converted barn. It loomed at the top of the incline amid a cluster of smaller outbuildings,
and I found a path that took me right to the front. It was a bark-colored, weathered structure that looked as old as the inn,
though it now sported a dozen windows and a large glass door. Through the door I could see a small vestibule and staircase.
As I paused on the path, scanning the building, a person came tripping down the staircase, very much in a hurry, and pushed
open the door. It was Piper.
She was wearing a limp, puckered brown leather coat over her uniform, and she had pulled her mass of red hair back in a low
ponytail. She still looked shaken. When I called out her name, she jumped about a foot.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” I said. “How are you doing? I was hoping to get a chance to talk to you today.”
“Lousy,” she said, advancing toward me. “And I can’t believe they expect me to work today.”
“That’s got to be tough,” I said. “Have the police been over here? To Anna’s room?”
“Yeah, they’ve got it all taped off.” She glanced over my right shoulder toward the back of the inn, as if something had caught
her eye, and I turned instinctively to follow her glance. But there was no one there.
“Have you been to the police station to give a formal statement yet?” I asked.
“First thing this morning,” she said. “That guy needs to take a chill pill, if you ask me.”
“Could you tell from his questions what angle they’re pursuing—do they think it could be someone who works at the spa?”
“They didn’t tell me
anything,
” she said, shaking her head.
“The room we found Anna in. You mentioned that you’d turned the light off in that room before you left last night. So that
wasn’t the room Anna did her last massage in?”
“No,” she said distractedly. “She was scheduled to use another room.”
“When you left last
attracted to a guy who probably bowls every Tuesday night and has a best friend named Choppy.
I pushed the thought of Beck from my mind, deciding it was a complete aberration—like one of those blinding pains you get
in your temple one day that convinces you you have a brain tumor the size of a beefsteak tomato but then never occurs again—and
attempted to find my way back to the inn. I got lost twice, once so badly that I was forced to stop and ask directions. When
I drove through the gate fifteen minutes later, I saw two TV vans parked on the road outside and an array of police vehicles
still in the parking lot.
I was so absolutely zonked from the night before, I had to fight off the urge to return to my room and crawl into bed. But
if I was going to learn anything between now and Monday morning, I’d have to use every minute I had. The first thing I wanted
to do before meeting up with Danny was check out the back door to the spa. Since the parking lot was taped off, I walked around
the west side of the inn, following a path that bordered the gardens.
Once I was behind the inn, I saw that the area directly in back of the spa was taped off as well, though I could see the rear
door from the small incline that rose behind the building. There was a fir tree near the door, and several birches, and it
would certainly have been easy for someone with a key to slip in without being noticed. It was impossible for me to tell from
my vantage point whether the lock had been broken.
Following the yellow police tape, which flapped with a snapping sound in the autumn breeze, I continued walking east until
I could see the parking lot and the main entrance of the spa. I gazed at the spot where I had stood in the darkness last night.
Despite what Beck had said, I had no recollection of having seen anything suspicious—no movement inside, no movement in the
parking lot.
The next thing to check out was the converted barn. It loomed at the top of the incline amid a cluster of smaller outbuildings,
and I found a path that took me right to the front. It was a bark-colored, weathered structure that looked as old as the inn,
though it now sported a dozen windows and a large glass door. Through the door I could see a small vestibule and staircase.
As I paused on the path, scanning the building, a person came tripping down the staircase, very much in a hurry, and pushed
open the door. It was Piper.
She was wearing a limp, puckered brown leather coat over her uniform, and she had pulled her mass of red hair back in a low
ponytail. She still looked shaken. When I called out her name, she jumped about a foot.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” I said. “How are you doing? I was hoping to get a chance to talk to you today.”
“Lousy,” she said, advancing toward me. “And I can’t believe they expect me to work today.”
“That’s got to be tough,” I said. “Have the police been over here? To Anna’s room?”
“Yeah, they’ve got it all taped off.” She glanced over my right shoulder toward the back of the inn, as if something had caught
her eye, and I turned instinctively to follow her glance. But there was no one there.
“Have you been to the police station to give a formal statement yet?” I asked.
“First thing this morning,” she said. “That guy needs to take a chill pill, if you ask me.”
“Could you tell from his questions what angle they’re pursuing—do they think it could be someone who works at the spa?”
“They didn’t tell me
anything,
” she said, shaking her head.
“The room we found Anna in. You mentioned that you’d turned the light off in that room before you left last night. So that
wasn’t the room Anna did her last massage in?”
“No,” she said distractedly. “She was scheduled to use another room.”
“When you left last
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