Page 68 of Is Anyone Listening?
"That's true. It could have been her or maybe Ray. My grandmother might not know what's he's been up to."
"I believe Ellen knows absolutely everything happening at the inn," Tessa said dryly. "She's a sharp lady. So how did it end?"
"I told her I wasn't leaving until we talked about my father, and she just walked away. The sheriff left after that, and most of the others, too. And I decided to come upstairs and do the podcast. It might be the last one from Stonecross."
"It was a good one," Tessa said. "The way you described what happened to you was chilling."
"You're a great storyteller," Morgan said. "I could feel what you were feeling. It was so real." She paused. "The podcast comments are still going strong. We have thousands of people weighing in, and I already got an email from one of the sponsors who wants to send over a contract tomorrow. The podcast is definitely working. But, of course, there's been a huge cost to both of you. I feel guilty that I'm not with you."
"Don't feel guilty," I said. "You're where you need to be, and for the moment, we're all safe. At least, I hope so. I really don't know much, which is why it's weird that someone tried to kill me to shut me up. I wish I had more I could say."
"You need to leave tomorrow morning, right after you talk to your grandmother," Morgan said.
"I'm going to see what she has to say. I can't come back with nothing. I either have to find answers for Natalie's disappearance, or at the very least, I have to know why my father left, why my family shattered. I know it's a risk to stay. But I'm also hoping that maybe being outed as Ellen's granddaughter will put some kind of protective bubble around me."
"You thought that about my fall down the stairs and someone attacked you tonight."
"Yes, but that wasn't at the inn. It couldn't be tied to Ellen."
"What difference does that make? You still could have lost your life."
"You're right. But I need to speak to Ellen again before I decide anything."
"Ellen could be at the center of everything," Morgan put in. " I'm not sure she's going to let a long-lost granddaughter get in her way."
"Morgan is right," Tessa said. "From what I know of Ellen, she's cold and calculating. And if she's involved in trafficking these women, or, God forbid, getting rid of them, then what do you think she's going to do? She’s not going to confess her sins to you."
"She's probably going to kick me out," I said realistically. "But I want to try to talk to her about my father, and I'm hoping that will unsettle her, so she won't be thinking clearly. Maybe I'll learn something, maybe I won't."
"What about Tyler? Can you stay with him?" Morgan asked. "Isn't he living nearby? I hate for you to be alone."
"He offered earlier, but it didn't make sense to me. I had the thought that maybe Nathan had come after me for what he told me about Jessica's missing ring. And if he came after me, he might go after Tyler, too. Anyway, after what happened with my grandmother tonight, the inn is probably the safest place I could be. I don't think she's going to let someone kill me on her property."
"She might find a way to have you disappear just like the others," Tessa said darkly.
"That would raise suspicions, and I think her standing in this community is as important to her as anything else." I let out a breath. "I appreciate the concern, but I'm beat. I need to take a hot shower and try to relax. I'll talk to you both tomorrow."
After a chorus of goodbyes, I set down my phone, rolled my tired head around on my shoulders and then grabbed my pajamas. A shower would feel good, but I was just too weary to attempt it. So, I changed into my comfortable PJs, turned out the lights and slid under the covers.
In the quiet, I could hear the wind blowing a branch against my window, and the waves crashing on the rocks below. At times there was a ringing sound, almost like a cry, that came through the vents, and the tension refused to leave my body. I felt like I was waiting for something to happen.
After several more minutes of anxiety-fueled thoughts, I got out of bed and pushed my dresser in front of the door. It was kind of a noisy process and, hopefully, whoever was below me didn't call down to the desk to ask what the hell was going on. But when it was done, I felt better. No one was getting in this room tonight. I was safe.
At least until tomorrow…
Wednesday morning, I woke up with aching muscles and a pounding headache, which got marginally better after a hot shower and a change of clothes. But when I saw the piece of paper slipped under my door, my tension immediately returned.
I unfolded the note with wary hands, expecting a threat, just like the last time. But this note was different. It was from Ellen, requesting that I come to her apartment on the first floor at my earliest convenience.
She was clearly ready to talk, or at least to tell me to leave again. I grabbed my phone and my bag and headed downstairs, feeling like I needed to be ready for anything.
Her apartment was at the back of the building in its own corridor, an area of the inn I had not been in before. I knocked on her door, and she answered a few seconds later.
She wore a pair of brown slacks and a caramel-colored cardigan over a white blouse, her stark white hair offsetting her pale face and brown eyes—eyes that were a lot like mine, but nothing like my father's brilliant green eyes. She waved me inside without a word, and as I stepped into her private apartment, it didn't feel much different from the inn. She had the same kind of décor, the same antique furniture, the same muted colors.
There was a living room, and what appeared to be a small kitchenette by a round dining table, with a door leading to a bedroom.
"Sit," she ordered.
