Page 12 of Is Anyone Listening?
Tessa's expression shifted from curious to concerned to excited. When I finished, she was practically vibrating with energy.
"Holy shit, Cassidy. This is crazy. Multiple disappearances? How did we not know that?"
"Because it's not out there. Maybe someone covered something up, or maybe this guy was just blowing smoke."
"What if there are other women who left here and were never heard from again, but no one filed a missing persons report? Or what if they were filed in different jurisdictions, so no one connected them?"
"That's a lot of assumptions."
"But it's possible. And what about the broken window? It wasn't my room or yours. Do you think it was the room at the end of the hall where we saw that woman go inside?"
"I think that's exactly whose window it was. And maybe she was the one crying."
"How did she break the window?"
"No idea. Ray said it was an accident. It's hard to believe she threw something through the window. She looked so frail, like a gust of wind would knock her over."
"Maybe she was trying to escape," Tessa suggested.
"From the third floor?"
"Who knows what someone will do when they're trapped?"
"I don't think she was trapped. Why wouldn't she scream if she was? Why just cry? It sounded more like she was really sad, not terrified."
"We need to talk to her."
"She looked like she wanted to disappear into the walls, Tessa. I don't think she's going to talk to us."
"We have to try. We'll be friendly. Non-threatening." She stood up. "Maybe she's downstairs. Let's get breakfast and see who's around."
"Okay."
"By the way, did you tell that guy on the beach—Tyler—about our podcast?"
"No. I didn't tell him anything except my first name."
"Good. If he or anyone else asks, we stick to our cover story—we're researching historic inns for a book. We're writers doing background research. That's why we're so nosy."
I nodded, even though anxiety was pooling in my stomach. "Got it. But I think we need to be careful, Tessa."
"Of course, but we have to take some risks, too. Otherwise, we'll never find out anything."
Seeing the gleam in her eyes, I wondered if I was taking everything too seriously or if she wasn't taking it seriously enough.
I had a feeling we were going to find out.
The dining room was busy. The same young couple who had been kissing over wine and cheese was doing the same over bacon and eggs. Their oblivious happiness screamed honeymoon. The woman who'd been knitting in the living room had a table by the window, and her knitting needles clicked rhythmically as she worked on what looked like a scarf. A middle-aged couple occupied one of the other tables, consulting a guidebook as they ate. And in the far corner at a table by herself was the woman I'd seen entering the room next to mine.
She was hunched over a plate of food she wasn't eating, her fork moving listlessly through her scrambled eggs. In the morning light, she looked even paler than she had last night, almost translucent.
Ellen appeared from what I assumed was the kitchen, carrying a coffeepot. She wore the same neutral expression she'd had last night—polite but distant, the smile never quite reaching her eyes.
"Good morning," she said, gesturing to an empty table near the center of the room. "Please, sit anywhere you'd like. Coffee?"
"Yes, please," Tessa said with a warm smile as we sat down at the table. "This room is beautiful, and the buffet looks amazing."
"Thank you." Ellen poured coffee into our cups with practiced efficiency. "We have scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage, fresh fruit, yogurt, and pastries. Help yourselves."
