Page 12 of Lost Hours
“Which you did, but how?”
“We tried the other lockers again. This time they opened. They contained our framed academy graduation pictures. Each one had a letter written on the back in marker, but mine had the alphabet typed on white paper.”
“Interesting”
“More than interesting. I thought it might be a rudimentary cipher, so I laid the letters on the table. Moved forward a letter on the alphabet. No luck. Moved forward two. Still no luck. But three was the trick. The letters spelledboard.”
Her gaze whipped across the room. “The bulletin board.”
“Exactly. We each took an item down to study it. The back of the daily schedule held numbers. We tried them on the door lock, and they didn’t work so I figured it was another cipher, and I used the same basic one I did for the letters except for numbers. It gave me the code for the electronic door lock.”
She tilted her head. “It’s either a coincidence that you’re good at ciphers, or the person who locked you in this room knew you were.”
“I don’t think it’s a coincidence. Not with all the other items in the room being personal to us. Some of which I’m shocked are here. Like our graduation pictures. And why make trophies that never existed?”
“Something I’ll need to investigate.” She narrowed her eyes. “This person who created the escape room could be trying to set one of you up for the murder charge. And since the items are so personal to each of you, I have to entertain the idea it could be you or one of your team.”
“No!” He shook his head hard. “I refuse to believe that. I didn’t do it, and you know the others—spent time with them. You know they would never murder someone. Besides, what motive would any of us have for killing the mayor? He’s been our ally and supportive of our team and mission since we arrived in town to set up business. He even got a special tax credit approved for our business. And if we wanted to kill him, why would we make everything in this room all about us and put his body in here?”
“Perhaps it’s something you don’t know about.”
Nolan shook his head again. “No. Emphatically no. Don’t waste your time going down that path or the real killer will go free.”
“I have to go down any path the forensics and leads take me.”
He let his gaze bore into her. “Is this about our past? Are you wanting one of us to be guilty because you feel bad for bailing on me? Bailing on them?”
Her mouth fell open. “Me bail onyou? You’re the one who left without a word. One minute we’re supposed to meet for breakfast, and the next I find out you’ve left town with no explanation.”
What?He’d explained this in his note, so why was she pretending she didn’t know why he’d had to leave? “Didn’t you get my note?”
“No note,” her steely tone cut him to the core.
He took a breath to mitigate some of the emotions taking over. “I would never leave without explaining. I had to go. An enterovirus spread from agent to agent assigned to the president, and my supervisor canceled everyone’s vacation.”
Her chin went up higher as if she wasn’t buying it. “Okay, so you had a good reason for leaving. Didn’t mean you couldn’t have told me.”
“Like I said I left a note.”
She crossed her arms. “What about just talking to me? Was that too much for me to expect?”
“I tried, but I had to leave immediately to catch the only flight available. I couldn’t call you—you lost your phone the day before. Remember? We were joking around, and you dropped it over the cliff at the overlook and into the ocean.”
Recognition dawned on her face. “Okay, but there must’ve been another way to contact me before just leaving me behind like a meaningless summer fling.”
“How? The only way was to come to your house to talk to you, but you never gave me your address. Still, I didn’t just leave. I’d seen you talking to the desk clerk a few times, and it seemed like you knew him, so I figured he might be able to tell me where you lived. But he said he didn’t know, and I didn’t have time to go looking for you. He suggested I write you a note, and he would ask around town for your address and make sure to get it to you. So I did.”
She frowned. “If it’s the desk clerk I think you’re talking about, it was Tommy. He was one of my good friends and had been to my house plenty of times.”
“Then I don’t know why he would say he didn’t know where it was.” Nolan described the guy, making sure to emphasize his red hair and freckles. “Is that him?”
“Yeah, that’s Tommy. He was the only guy with red hair at the hotel, so it had to be him.” She stared at Nolan for a long moment. “I didn’t get a note, and if you gave one to Tommy, he would’ve passed it on.”
Nolan locked gazes with her. “Are you saying I’m lying?”
She planted her booted feet on the floor, her chin raising in that stubborn look he remembered from when she got mad. “I guess I am.”
“One way to solve this,” Nolan said, trying not to get angry himself. “We find this Tommy guy and ask him about the note, though he’ll probably lie about it because he never gave it to you.”
