“Cassie?” someone called after her as she jostled first one group of people, then another. She felt as if she were swimming upstream, fighting the current, trying to pass rocks and logjams. “Cassie Kramer!”
She didn’t stop to see who it was, just plowed through the throng, her heart pounding, her head screaming that she was hallucinating. Again. The weird scenes of Shondie Kent, no, Allie Kramer, closed in on her, the eyes staring as if to find her soul. She had to get out. Gasping, the world spinning out of control, she somehow made her way up the steps, through the open doors and out of the ballroom. Somewhere behind her, Trent was following, but she couldn’t wait, had to know if she’d really seen her sister! As she rounded a corner, she cast a look over her shoulder to the ballroom to see that Whitney Stone and her cameraman had stymied Trent. Obviously the reporter was trying to engage him, blocking his path.
Cassie didn’t wait.
She had to find her sister.
Allie! Dear God, where have you been?
Why are you here?
Why would you hide, in this hotel?
Why not come down to the party, make a splash?
Oh, God, is it really you?
Faster, faster, faster!
Her headache was nearly blinding.
People were collecting at the elevators, all oblivious to her situation, that she was in a panic to locate her sister. Frantically she searched the signs and found the staircase. She was through the door in a second.
Up, up, up!
She took the steps two at a time in the narrow stairwell, the steps metal, the shaft dark. Ignoring the feeling of the walls closing in on her, she continued upward, flying past the third floor, then the fourth. On the fifth, she was gasping for breath and clinging onto the railing. Far below she heard a door click open, then slam shut. Boots began to ring on the stairs below.
“Cassie?” Trent called, his voice echoing up the shaft.
“Up here!” she yelled and kept climbing, feeling claustrophobic but mounting each step, not wanting him to catch her. She knew what he’d say, that everything she was doing was the actions of a person who had lost touch with all reality. Doubts assailed her as she reached each floor.
What if she were wrong?
What if this was a wild-goose chase?
What if, oh, God, she were hallucinating again, seeing things that didn’t exist?
She passed the sixth floor and her legs were starting to cramp. “Cass!” he yelled again. “Wait!”
She kept hurrying, her feet flying up the steps.
Breathing hard, her legs aching, she finally saw a red number 7 painted on the fire door of a landing. Finally!
“Cass!” Trent yelled after her again, but she didn’t stop, heard him closing in on her. “Hey! You can’t just go busting into a person’s room.”
Using all her weight she shouldered the fire door open and nearly fell into the hallway with its shabby carpet, half-painted walls and skeletal scaffolding. Electrical wires were exposed, holes in the wall were visible, and she realized that this was an older part of the hotel, an area that hadn’t yet been renovated and obviously wasn’t currently used for guests.
So why would Allie or anyone, for that matter, be up here?
She skirted ladders and paint cloths and equipment littering the dim, long hallway that was eerie, but wasn’t about to turn back. This was the floor where she’d seen Allie or her damned lookalike and Cassie wasn’t leaving until she’d checked out every corner.
The stairwell door opened again.
“What the hell is this?” Trent asked, his voice reverberating through the deserted hallway.
“Renovations.” She was already moving toward the corner room. Trent was right on her heels. “Cass. Stop this! Look around. There’s no one here.”
He sounded frantic.