Page 4 of Lost Hours
Like tonight. Her big highlight? Reviewing and signing off on the recent city council meeting minutes, attesting that she’d read them. Highlight. Hah! More like a lowlight.
She’d take any call to get out of the office. Anything. Even a drunk resident at one of the local bars. An event that could turn interesting, but not in a way to challenge her brain. But she couldn’t expect much more in the off-season when all the tourists had gone home.
But then, she didn’t want a major crime to occur either. With the annual Founder’s Day celebration coming up that weekend, she would make her share of arrests. Surely she could hold on till then.
Besides, she especially wouldn’t want the ultimate in crimes. A murder. No, that meant someone lost their life. She’d seen all the reports where tourists died on their vacations in some exotic destination. Exotic, hah! Not her county, holding Lost Lake and Lost Island. Interesting for tourists who loved pristine Pacific beaches and the historic island, filled with century-old Victorian homes, but not exotic.
Problem was, over the years their tourist trade had fallen. A lot. Even the centuries-old Portside Inn and Lighthouse out on the point hadn’t been able to survive and had to close. It sat vacant for three years until Nolan Orr swooped in and bought it before she even knew what was happening. Not that she could’ve stopped the purchase, but if she’d known about it, she sure would’ve tried.
How she would have tried. With every fiber in her being she would’ve tried to stop the man who unceremoniously dumped her from coming back to live full-time in her hometown. He probably bought the place in secret because he thought she would try to halt the sale.
Or not.
More likely, he hadn’t thought about her from the day five years ago when he’d left at the end of their summer fling without saying goodbye.
An ache wrapped around her heart even after all these years, and she curled her arms around her stomach. She’d been so in love and thought this was the guy she would spend the rest of her life with. She’d met all of his friends, and they seemed to agree she was the right person for him.
Obviously not Nolan. No, not him. They were supposed to meet out at the lighthouse. He didn’t show. She waited two hours before going to his hotel. He was gone. Checked out early in the morning and hadn’t tried to contact her. End of story.
Her radio squabbled, and she came to attention in her chair.
“Drunk and disorderly at the Thirsty Crab,” Deputy Banfield said. “Backup needed.”
“Perfect,” she whispered to herself. “Something to take my mind off the traitor Nolan Orr.”
And something to stop her wondering if her life was as fulfilling as she believed it to be before that man had come back to town and filled her brain with a boatload ofwhat ifs.
2
Nolan and the rest of the team trailed Smythe down the dark hallway to a locked door on the right. Smythe blocked the electronic lock with his body to secretly enter a code, and the deadbolt gave way.
Nolan didn’t like this. Not that Smythe was acting odd, but why would anyone need a deadbolt on an interior door, much less on the door for a room used to play games? He supposed it could also serve as a storage space for event items, so he would reserve judgment for now.
Smythe pushed open the door, flipped on a light, then stood back. “Please enter, and I will give you instructions for your first game of the evening.”
“Hold up.” Nolan raised his hand. “Let me check this out before we all go piling in there.”
“By all means.” Smythe stood back.
Nolan stepped into a long, narrow room. One wall was covered with six gray metal lockers. Next to them stood a bookshelf, holding books and stacks of newspapers. Then came a closed, glass trophy case loaded with various shiny trophies next to a bulletin board with what looked like notices. The back half of the room was set up to resemble one side of a college dormitory room, including a twin-sized bed with storage drawers underneath.
Across from the lockers, a punching bag hung from the ceiling, with three pairs of gloves dangling from the cord. A bright wooden box sat on a table below the movie posters plastered on the wall.
“I don’t know if you’re familiar with the termescape room,” Smythe said from the doorway, “but we’ve planned an escape room for you based on your academy days.”
Nolan moved back to the door as he ran through what he knew about escape rooms. He didn’t like them much. Not when he had to give over control of his life for an hour or so. Sure, it was up to him and whoever joined him to decide the actions they took to solve the puzzle and escape the room, but still, he was a prisoner of the game’s creator.
He looked at Smythe. “You’re going to lock us in here while we solve puzzles or look for clues to figure out how to get the door to unlock.”
“Exactly.” Smythe ran his gaze over the group. “How many of you have ever participated in one?”
Nolan raised his hand along with Reece and Jude.
“Good. Then you can help lead the others. We have cameras in the room, and I will be watching while you try to locate the clues. If you require help, all you need to do is call me on the cell phone we left for you, and I will give you a clue. You have one hour to solve the mystery. Any questions?”
No one spoke up.
“Dear me.” He palmed his forehead. “I forgot one of the most important things. I will not actually lock the door, so have no fear. If you need to exit to use the restroom or for any other reason, all I ask is that you let me know you’re leaving.”
