Slash, p.11
Slash, page 11
He kicked a bottle out of the way. It spun a couple of feet until it clinked against a slab of stone. Wires hung from the ceiling, many years removed from carrying the current that supplied light to the grand hotel.
Just like it was on the exterior, graffiti was everywhere. And not the good stuff. Poorly construed tags, illegible to him because he didn’t speak graffiti, had been painted on the walls, floor, rubble and shards of furniture. He even saw a big, block letter BRITNEY LOVES COCK sprayed onto the ceiling.
“How in the hell did they get up there?”
Video images from the news five years earlier superimposed themselves over the surroundings. Todd was standing in the center of the Wraith’s masterwork. After he had murdered Ash’s friend’s, desecrating their bodies in unspeakable ways, he’d brought them all here, scattering their pieces large and small the way an old man would scatter stale bits of bread for the pigeons. So much of that footage had to be blurred because the blood at the time was still fresh.
Todd turned to his left and the broken pile of couches. That’s where Jamal Banks’s head and hands had been found, his index fingers jammed in his ears.
On the wall to his right was where Addie Lawrence had been pinned to the wall like a crucified Jesus, her severed legs forming an X over her head.
Pieces of a male body had littered the floor in wet, ropy dollops. By process of elimination, they knew it had been Fred Mass, his pale flesh in stark contrast to Jamal’s. His head, what was left of it, had been stuffed under a board, only found when a cop had stepped on it and heard a loud squelch.
Sheri, her body bathed in blood, had been broken in so many ways, the Wraith had simply balled her up, leaving her in the middle of the lobby, her head pushed into her crotch, arms wrapped around her body and wrists wrapped with wire to keep everything in place.
Todd knew he was walking on their blood, but it was impossible to discern bloodstains from mold. He wished he didn’t know the details of the police report, but at the time, he demanded that information from the police. The censored story in the news wasn’t enough. How could he help Ash if he didn’t know the true horror she’d experienced?
He let a savage shiver run up his spine, took a breath and moved on.
The walls by the east wing of the hotel were still black with soot, the remnants of the big fire that closed the Hayden for good. As he got closer to the wall, he could make out the faint, lingering odor of the fire. Amazing. It was as if the fabric of the Hayden refused to let go of the memory of the night that had killed it.
Recalling those news stories, he was amazed by how much worse the Hayden had gotten. Instead of keeping people out, it looked like the massacre had attracted even more, and they had left their mark by dismantling what was already in disarray.
One thing that hadn’t been destroyed was the check-in desk. It dominated the room. Once long enough to accommodate ten guests at a time, the mahogany counter was nicked and scarred and laden with detritus. He saw a rusty bell amidst the debris.
“Well, why not?”
He tapped the bell. The responding, warped ding reverberated through the bones of the Hayden. The unsettling echo made Todd shiver.
“Not going to do that again.”
He snapped off his flashlight and waited for a moment, wondering if the noise had woken any strange denizens that had chosen to live within the tomb-like wreck. There was nothing but the susurration of the wind through the shattered windows and cracks.
Todd couldn’t help feeling watched.
A thought occurred to him that he immediately tried to dismiss, but this place had him unmoored and unable to retain his pragmatic core.
What if the ghosts of Ash’s friends were here? Could Jamal, Fred, Sheri and Addie still linger here, restless spirits trapped by the sticky despair of their final moments?
If ghosts did exist, he was sure he would find them here.
But they didn’t, so it was pointless to even think about.
“Where did you hide it, Ash?” he said, getting his mind back on the task at hand.
The elevator doors had been welded shut. Only one of them had been pried open by determined vandals. He tested the floor by the elevator, approaching it cautiously. When he felt it would hold him, he poked his head and flashlight inside. The elevator car was nowhere to be seen, the cables taut as piano wire. He looked up, unable to see to the top. Someone had even spray-painted the shaft.
He backed out, sweeping the light around the room. To the right of the check-in desk was a noble staircase, the kind he could imagine royalty, or those who wished to be royalty, would descend to make a stately entrance.
The banisters had held true, but most of the steps themselves were missing. He looked through one of the gaps and saw what would be a debilitating fall. Were they this bad when Ash had been here? She did say they hadn’t gone to the other floors, so there was no need to risk going up them. If he fell through and managed to survive, at best he’d break both his legs and end up buried under the rubble when they razed the hotel.
He could picture Ash’s excitement at being here. It was impossible not to be overcome by the shades of the past and the cold certainty of the future, where nothing was able to escape rot and ruin.
Todd wandered to the coat check. The racks were there, holding a dozen or so wire hangers. Someone had dragged a mattress into the room. There were so many condom wrappers in the tiny room, they had practically formed a carpet. The mattress was solid brown. The stench of mold and musk and spent fluids was overpowering. He had to walk away, breathing into his sleeve to filter the air.
He’d been young and horny too, but he couldn’t imagine ever being that hard up to use such a place. And what kind of girl would have let him? Certainly not Ash.
Back in the day, massive mirrors that went from the floor to the ceiling had been on the far wall, making the lobby look twice its already considerable size. It was no shock to see they’d been smashed, the shards resembling deadly sabers. One of those shards had been used to slice Addie to ribbons, according to the coroner. Cartoonish faces had been spray-painted where the glass once hung, gaping mouths and exaggerated eyes staring back at him. He put the knife down on a dented and rusted file cabinet.
The bottoms of the gilt frames were still attached to the wall. Making sure he didn’t impale his lower legs on the glass, he felt within the frame for a memory card or even a rare written note. His finger grazed a triangle of glass.
“Shit.”
He jerked his hand out, flicking off the spot of blood that bubbled up. Wiping it on his jeans, he went back to searching, being more careful this time. Four frames later, he came away with two more cuts on his fingers and nothing more.
The concierge desk had been hammered into two pieces. Empty bags of junk food had been speared on the splinters. Ash wouldn’t have left anything there.
Because the lobby was in shambles, there were thousands of places Ash could have hidden a recording. He’d need floodlights and a team of a hundred people to properly go over the place.
Feeling defeat when he’d just begun, he angrily kicked a shard of wood. It sailed to the corner of the lobby. When he looked to see where it had landed, he came upon a vase filled with fresh flowers.
Seeing something so vibrant and alive felt wrong in this place of atrophy.
A small placard leaned against the vase. It read: We will always remember. RIP Sheri, Addie, Jamal and Fred.
Beside it was another vase crammed with beautiful red roses. A handwritten index card had been taped to the vase. That one read: Ash Lives!
In a flash, Todd grabbed the vase and launched it into the wall, shattering the glass and destroying the roses. His instant, near-blackout anger surprised even him.
Ash did not live. Not here. Not anywhere. At best, he would recover a memory, but nothing more.
But where? Why did he think this would have been less than impossible?
He leaned against an overturned chair, or what was left of it, and massaged the bridge of his nose.
“Just take a second and think. You know Ash. Where in this whole disaster would she hide it?”
Todd drew in a sharp breath at the sound of someone approaching the hotel. He snapped off his light, worried that if he tried to open his backpack and take out his camera with night vision he would give himself away.
There was nowhere to hide in the lobby.
He held his breath and waited.
Chapter Fifteen
The best he could do was crouch behind the remains of the chair. The ground was littered with so much glass, plaster and rocks, it would be impossible to even take a step without making a sound.
Twin flashlight beams shined into the lobby, jerkily bobbing and weaving as whoever held them walked closer to the hotel’s entrance.
They came silently.
Must be the cops on patrol, he thought. He hoped it was one of the ones who had rolled up on him a week ago. He was pretty sure he could talk his way out of handcuffs with them. But that would also mean his search for what Ash left and the real story of that tragic night was over.
What if it wasn’t the cops?
What if it’s the Wraith?
Shit, the knife!
He’d left it on the file cabinet over by the mirrors.
It’s not the Wraith. There were clearly at least two people heading his way. He was pretty sure a maniac like that didn’t have an accomplice. But that wasn’t true. Though rare, there had been serial killers who didn’t work alone. He recalled that Dean Arnold Corll and the Freeway Killer had both been assisted by weak, twisted teens. After what had happened to Ash, Todd had taken a deep dive for the following year into studying the origin stories and twisted lives of serial killers and mass murderers. He’d done it all in secret, not wanting to upset Ash. He’d had many a nightmare that year, but he’d kept them from Ash, who was dealing with her own intense night terrors.
Whoever was coming, they were not raccoons.
If it was the police, it would be better if he didn’t have the knife. It would be one less thing to explain.
Pulling his knees to his chest, he drew into himself to hopefully disappear behind the remnants of the chair.
He pulled his jacket up over his mouth to hide his frozen breath.
The crunch of glass announced their arrival.
Footsteps echoed in the demolished lobby. He strained to differentiate the steps. There could have been two people, if not more. Circles of light swept the walls.
“Man, what a dump.”
Todd froze.
“Is it even safe to walk around?”
Rising from his haunches, Todd said, “What the hell are you doing here?”
Heather made a high yelping sound that would have been more at home coming from a Chihuahua. Multiple shafts of light blinded Todd. He had to put his hands over his face to quell the pain.
“Hey buddy, you didn’t think we’d believe you called the whole thing off, now did you?” Jerry Mulcahy said.
“I’d hoped,” Todd said. “And please stop blinding me.”
They moved their lights away.
Vince, Heather, Jerry, Bill and, to Todd’s horror, Sharon Viola, stood in the center of the lobby. She’d certainly grown into a woman since the last time he’d seen her. Sharon’s nut-brown skin, prominent cheekbones and hawk’s eyes imbued her with both beauty and a hard edge that belied her years.
Todd went to them to show them the floor would hold.
“We would have been here sooner,” Vince said, shaking his hand. “But when we came, there were all these crazies and police around. We found a diner the next town over and had a bite to eat before heading back.”
“I hope there’s someplace to take a dump, because I can already tell those fries and gravy are going to be trouble,” Bill Croft said. He had a hand on his belly.
Jerry laughed. “Look at this place. Where can’t you take a dump?”
“I didn’t bring toilet paper.”
“That’s what leaves are for,” Jerry said.
“Or you can use pages from the porno mags I found,” Todd said. He had to admit, a part of him was relieved to see them. He hadn’t realized how heavy and eerie it was going to be on the Hayden grounds.
Heather stared guiltily at him. “Hi, Todd.”
“Hey.”
“You remember Sharon?”
Sheri’s kid sister wasn’t a kid anymore. She’d filled out since he’d last seen her. Had she been in high school then, or had she just started college? Even under her layers, he could see she had curves that would drive men wild. Her chest seemed exaggerated for such a small frame.
“I do,” he said. “I hope you don’t take offense, but I was really hoping you wouldn’t be here.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Well, none of us owns the market on pain.” Turning away from him, she wandered around the lobby.
“You couldn’t have ditched her?” he whispered to Heather.
“She was waiting outside my house when I got off work. There was nothing I could have done.”
Except not tell her the plan, but that cat was already out of the bag and Todd wouldn’t beat her up about it.
“We’ll just have to deal with it,” he said. “We have to make sure nothing happens to her. I don’t even want her getting a splinter. Her parents have been through enough.”
Jerry tapped his chest with his flashlight. “Already on it, bud. I’ll keep a very close eye on her.” His eyes were locked onto her ass as she leaned over the check-in desk.
“I’m sure you will,” Todd said. He wasn’t crazy about Jerry’s leering, but at least she’d have his full attention all night.
Vince sidled up to him. “Heather tells me that Sharon has kind of separated from the family. Or what’s left of it.”
Todd watched Jerry and Bill head over to the elevators. “Be careful over there.”
“Did you know that Sharon’s also a stripper? I mean, an exotic dancer. Or is it just a dancer? I keep forgetting, no matter how many times Heather tells me.”
“You serious?”
“Yep. Heather’s been trying to talk her into quitting. She was on her way to an Ivy League school. Did you know she wanted to be a molecular biologist? But then it all went to shit and now she’s just out to make money. It’s sad how one tragedy can make a whole family unravel.”
Ash’s parents had gone the opposite way, seeming to grow stronger as a couple, but Todd always saw the hurt in their eyes. He was sure they saw it in his too.
Vince rubbed his hands together to warm them. “So, you find anything?”
Todd shook his head. Heather rejoined them after looking at the mirror frames. “It’s a lot bigger, and much more run-down, than I expected.”
“I was trying to think where Ash would have hidden something when you guys came in.”
There was a loud thump as something crashed to the floor just behind Sharon. All of the flashlights whipped to the ceiling over her head. Dust rained down where a chunk of the ceiling had crumbled off.
“You all right?” Jerry asked Sharon.
She dusted her sleeves off with a glove. “Yeah. This place isn’t going to get rid of me that easily.”
Todd was pretty sure he’d just had a coronary event. Of all the people….
“We should probably go to the ice rink,” he said. “It might be safer.”
He desperately wanted to stay here and search some more, but now his major concern was their safety.
“Now that’s a big dick,” Bill said. He’d separated from everyone else, migrating to the other end of the lobby that had at one time led to the buffet dining area.
“What are you talking about?” Heather said.
He shined his light on a ten-foot mural of an erect penis. “Am I right?”
That’s when Todd saw the clock. It was still on the wall, just underneath the crudely drawn testicles. “That has to be it.”
“The cock?” Jerry said.
“No, the clock.”
Todd ran across the lobby, nearly upending himself when he barked his shin on a table that had been stacked with empty beer cans. They clattered onto the floor, making Heather yelp again.
“Keep your flashlight on the clock,” he said to Bill.
“Sure thing.”
Todd didn’t have to reach far to grab it. Ash had been tall, nearly five ten, so it wouldn’t have been difficult for her to get it down. Or maybe, knowing her, it had been amidst the junk on the floor and she’d put it back where it had once proudly hung, letting guests know when it was time to head in for meals. It was a miracle it was still there, five years (or forty-plus for that matter) and not smashed on the ground. The hands had stopped at 5:07. He wondered if that had been in the morning or night. Had it ticked on well after the doors had been shuttered for good? If a clock ticked and no one was in the resort to bide its time, did it exist?
“Good catch, Bill,” Vince said.
Bill scratched his head.
Everyone had gathered around Todd.
“What’s the big deal about a clock?” Jerry asked.
“Ashley hid a recording in her grandfather clock,” Heather said. “It was her last message for Todd.”
“Damn.”
Todd turned the golden clock over. The back was smooth and solid. He ran his wounded fingers around the edges. “There has to be a way to get inside it. It needed batteries or had to be wound somehow.”
