“I know. My grandmother—your mother—died of cancer, too.” I put my hands palm-down on the diner table. “Look, I’m glad we’re having this little family heart-to-heart, but I have big problems to deal with. There are ghosts running around the Sun Down right now. My friend is out there somewhere and not answering his phone. And I got pushed into the empty pool by Simon Hess’s grandson.”
Viv put down her mug. For the first time, she looked shocked. “You had a run-in with Callum MacRae?”
“How do you know who Callum MacRae is if you worked alone and you haven’t been to Fell for thirty-five years?”
“I said I ran that night,” Viv said. “I said I’ve been Christine for thirty-five years. I never said I didn’t come back to Fell.”
“Wait a minute. I’ve been looking for you all this time, and you live here?”
“How do you think I knew you worked at the motel?” Viv bit her lip. “I couldn’t stay away. I left for a few years, and then I came back. I love this place. What can I say? Fell is home.” She shrugged. “I’m even in the old-fashioned phone book. And no, no one has ever recognized me. My disappearance didn’t get much coverage. I live in a different part of town now, and I work from home as a tutor. I barely spoke to anyone when I worked the night shift, and no one remembered me after a few years. I even passed my old roommate, Jenny, on the street one day and she didn’t look twice at me. It’s amazing how quickly people forget.”
I opened my mouth—to say what, I no longer knew—but my phone rang. It lit up and buzzed on the table, the ringtone high and sharp.
Nick.
I grabbed the phone and answered it. “Nick?”
“Carly,” he said. “I came back and you were gone. Where the fuck are you? Where did you go?”
“I’m not far,” I said. “I’m okay. What’s going on? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I’m at the motel.” Voices sounded in the background, and Nick replied something I couldn’t hear. Then he came back on the line. “It’s a little crazy here at the moment.”
I was nearly woozy with relief at the sound of his voice, as deep and confident as ever. “Are the police there? The ambulance? Is Callum there?”
“They’re here,” he said. “But Callum is dead, I think. And the motel . . . I can’t even describe it. I think you need to get back here right now.”
Fell, New York
November 2017
CARLY
It was chaos at the Sun Down.
There were police cars and an ambulance. The red and blue lights flashed, bouncing off the front of the building, the corridors, the stairs, mixing with the yellow and blue of the road sign—which was lit up again.
Viv pulled into the edge of the parking lot, in a spot that didn’t block the official vehicles. When I got out of the car, she followed me.
There was yellow police tape pulled across the second-floor corridor, and several police were there. More police were on the ground level outside the office, surrounding Nick, who was standing with his arms crossed.
When I tried to approach, a policeman stopped me. “I’m the night clerk,” I said. “I’m supposed to be here.”
“You work here?” he asked.
“Yes.” I gave him my name. “I’m the one who called 911.”
He glanced past my shoulder at Viv. “Who is this?”
“My aunt.” The words came out before I could even think them. “Her name is Christine Fawcett. She picked me up after Callum MacRae attacked me, and then she took me for a bowl of soup.”
The cop was reluctant, but he allowed us through and brought me to another cop, a big, sixtyish man who seemed to be in charge.
As I answered his questions, I kept glancing at Nick. He was flanked by a policeman of his own, who was asking questions and taking down the answers.
“I had no idea the Fell PD even had this many cops,” Viv said softly to me.
Nick raised his gaze and looked back at me. He looked unhurt, and his expression was intent and unreadable. Then his gaze moved to Viv, and I knew he recognized her. He looked almost angry. I wished to God I could get him alone and explain.
“Where’s Callum?” I asked the cop.
He motioned toward the ambulance, which was starting up and pulling out of the parking lot. “From what we can piece together, after he pushed you into the pool, Mr. MacRae took off into the woods with your friend Nick in pursuit. Nick claims he lost Callum somewhere in the chase. After a while he gave up and came back to the motel. He found Callum on the second-floor corridor, unconscious. He was trying to wake him when we pulled up.” He raised his eyebrows at me. “That’s what he says, at least. Do you have anything to add to that statement?”
“I told you what happened,” I said. “Callum attacked me. I called 911. I was afraid he’d come back. My aunt came and picked me up. She took me away, and then we came back here.”
The cop’s gaze flicked to Viv, then back to me. He obviously didn’t recognize her. “Do you need medical assistance?” he asked me.
“No, I need to talk to Nick.”
“That isn’t possible right now. The fact is, we found him bent over Callum MacRae’s body. Until we know exactly what has been going on, we are going to take him for questioning.”
“He didn’t do anything!” I heard my voice rising, cracking. “He only chased after the man who assaulted me! That’s all!”
From where he stood, Nick shook his head at me, silent.
“We’re going to have a paramedic look at you,” the cop said, softer now. “You had a bad fall and you need to be checked out. We’re going to go over your statement again. Miss . . .” He looked at Viv.
“Fawcett,” Viv said. “Christine Fawcett.”
“Miss Fawcett, I’d appreciate it if you’d wait over there until we’re finished with your niece.”
“Of course, Officer.” She reached out and squeezed my hand. Hers was warm; mine was icy cold. “I’m not going far, sweetie. I’ll talk to you soon.”
* * *
• • •
They took Nick away. It wasn’t an arrest; there were no handcuffs, no reading of rights like on TV. They took him for questioning and he went quietly, his eyes downcast. He was Nick Harkness, the son of one of Fell’s most notorious murderers, the boy who may or may not have been in his bedroom. He was found crouching over a man who wasn’t breathing. He was a suspect whether I liked it or not.