Page 108 of The Midnight Knock
Indeed. A long silver key that looked like it belonged to a serious lock.
Ethan had a feeling he knew where that lock was.
Without any further warning, the fire reached them: in the span of a second, the whole ceiling burned to life. The Guardian they’d released a moment ago, still standing to one side of the office, let out aSHRIEKof alarm. With one long arm, it shattered one of the windows near the fireplace. ItSHRIEKEDagain.
“It wants us to move,” Kyla said.
“Gladly.” With a kick of his foot to dislodge some more glass and then another grunt of pain, Ryan heaved himself over the sill and out into the dark. Kyla regarded the Guardian carefully as she made her way past it. The creature kept its head bowed, almost out of respect, just like the one in the cafe.
Ethan shot one last look around the office. He hurried out the window when a roof beam collapsed, crushing the desk and setting the floor alight.
Outside, the desert was colder than ever. The hard wind from the mountain was growing stronger and stronger, goading the flames that had crowned the motel. The fire was so bright it threw out a halo of illumination all its own, stranger and more fickle than the mercury glow of the motel’s lamps, closer than anything to the flicker of a campfire in the primal night.
The Guardian from the office clearly didn’t like being so visible. The creature leapt through the window the moment Ethan was clear and barreled into the dark.
The three guests crossed the parking lot. They had to go slow: Ryan’s steps were getting sluggish. Ethan realized, in that moment, just how much blood Ryan had lost.
Realized, also, he had no idea how to help the man.
Instead, he asked a question that had bothered him all night. “You came to my room a little before midnight tonight. You said that Penelope was good with voices.”
Ryan hesitated, as perturbed by the thought as he had been earlier. “Yeah. She can imitate just about anyone she’s had a conversation with. Stanley. Frank. You or me, probably.”
“And because none of the men here were unaccounted for, you think it wasPenelopeyou heard at seven thirty in room four. It was Penelope using a man’s voice.”
“That’s… the gist of it.”
They neared the side of the motel. Kyla said, “Why the hell would Penelope go to Sarah’s room and argue with the woman in someone else’s voice?”
Ryan bit his lip. He pushed harder against his shoulder. “I think she was doing both sides of the conversation.”
Kyla’s eyes widened. “You mean she was playing both Sarahandthe mystery man?”
Ryan said, “I think… I think…”
He was struggling to speak, but Ethan got the gist. “You think Sarah was already dead.”
Ryan nodded. “Her blood, on the pillow of her room… when I went in to speak with Sarah at seven fifty, it was almost… almost completely dry.”
“So if Sarah had died at seven thirty—if Penelope had killed her when she went to have that fake conversation—the blood would still be damp?” Kyla said.
Ryan nodded again.
Ethan said. “How long would it take blood to get that dry?”
“I’m not an expert.” Ryan swallowed hard. His skin was getting pale in the firelight. “But I read a lot in prison. I’d guess… an hour. Give or take.”
“Anhour?” Kyla said. “Meaning Sarah was dead by—holy shit.”
“Yeah,” Ethan said. “What was Fernanda doing at six thirty?”
Kyla hesitated. “I was sound asleep. To be honest, I was more concerned about her not stealing the backpack and running off without me. I knew if I slept on top of the mattress, she’d have no choice but to stay.”
“Is it possible she could have left y’all’s room while you were out?”
“And gone to make sure Sarah couldn’t rat us out to Frank?” Kylamet his eye in the firelight. “Of course it is. She was in the shower when I woke up.”
“Meaning she could have been washing off the evidence.”
