The Inn Between (10 page)

A loud thump against the door made her jump. It was followed by three more thuds.

“Open up,” the man grunted.

The boy searched Quinn's face as if to say, Who is that? He whimpered softly. Quinn frowned, cupped a hand to his mouth, and shook her head fiercely.

Kara gaped at Quinn. She didn't need to ask the questions; Quinn knew what she was thinking.

“Open the door,” he demanded.

Kara and the boy looked at Quinn for a response, only she had none to give. She put a finger to her lips. They had to stay silent. So long as he couldn't get in, they were safe.

Quinn sank to a sitting position. The others did the same. They sat quietly, side by side, under the windowsill, listening to the man pace back and forth, demanding they open the door. All the while Quinn's mind scrambled for a way out.

Low, guttural hissing drifted in from outside. Probably vultures. Sweat prickled through Quinn's skin. She shook off the feeling. Too bad they couldn't fly out the window like a great big ugly redheaded bird.

The window. Of course. Quinn motioned for the others.

Slowly, she peeled back the curtains. Twilight splashed the sands. The sun was fading fast. Soon darkness would smother the landscape.

Quinn unlocked the hinges and carefully lifted the wooden frame. Heat rushed into the room, along with the heavy scent of creosote that smelled like rain. The hissing of the birds grew louder.

Quinn stuck her head out. Her heart sank. Though they were on the first floor, there was a dip in the grading. A thin ledge of rock, only about a foot and a half wide, ran the side of the hotel. Beyond the rocky ledge there was a steep drop.

Quinn craned her neck farther. Her gaze ran the length of the ledge along the side of the building. They weren't far from where the grading changed. If they could make it to the corner, they'd be on level ground. They could do it if they kept their backs against the wall. If they were careful. If they didn't slip. Quinn put one leg up on the windowsill.

“You're crazy,” hissed Kara, grabbing her arm.

The pounding on the door was harder now, more frantic. Heavy steps paced the hallway. Breath rasping in and out. “Let me in!”

Quinn shrugged Kara off. “We have to get out of here. It's the only way.” She held on to the frame and hoisted her other leg up and out the window. “I'll go first. The boy goes next. You have to help him.”

Slowly, Quinn stepped onto the ledge, not putting her full weight down until she was sure it was safe to do so. With one hand still gripping under the window frame, she eased herself over, her back flat against the hot wall. From there, she made the mistake of looking down. It was at least a thirty-foot drop. And with sharp rocks and cacti below, it wouldn't be a pleasant landing. Her heart beat fast and hard. She swallowed a lump the size of a baseball.

“Come on,” she said, holding a hand out for the boy, who had stuck his head out the window and was staring wide-eyed at the cliff.

“Don't look down,” said Quinn. “Look at me.”

She managed a weak smile, thrusting her hand farther out toward him. Slowly, he got up onto the windowsill and with Kara's help he was standing on the ledge beside Quinn, gripping her hand tightly in his sweaty palm.

They inched farther along the ledge to make room for Kara, who was already halfway out the window. She grasped the boy's trembling hand, and together they formed a human chain with Quinn leading the way.

Keeping one hand flat against the hotel wall, Quinn felt her way along the bricks. It was hot. Beads of sweat gathered under her T-shirt and trickled in a thin line down her back.

She wouldn't allow herself to look down; she kept her eyes trained on the distant horizon, on the rolling sandy hills, and on the vultures, circling and wheeling in the sky like black smoke in the wind. Adrenaline rushed through her veins, but she forced herself to take steady, calm steps, drawing the others along, inch by inch, toward safety.

They were halfway when the vultures suddenly stopped circling. One by one, they dropped, forming a single line, flying low and at great speed. They were heading straight for the ledge, squawking and hissing. Quinn thought about the vulture she'd seen by the roadside near Norm's, digging its beak into the carcass, plucking out an eyeball.

“Quicker,” she yelped, gripping the boy's hand tightly, nearly pulling him off balance. He gasped and they stopped, finding their footing.

Quinn willed her feet to take steady, wide strides, as the birds drew closer, flapping their powerful wings, swooping lower, preparing to dive. The birds were less than ten feet away when Quinn's hand felt the corner of the building. She ducked around it just in time, pulling the boy with her. They fell to the ground as the birds flew past, flapping wildly, soaring off into the distance.

When the sky was clear, Quinn heaved a sigh of relief. Then she noticed Kara wasn't with them.

She sprang to her feet and dove around the side of the building. “Kara!” she yelled, not seeing her on the ledge.

“There she is!” gasped the boy, pointing a trembling finger.

Kara was sitting at the bottom of the steep incline. She had slipped off the rocky ledge, dropping about eight feet.

“You okay?” called Quinn.

Kara winced as she got to her feet. “I landed on my knee.”

“Go that way,” said Quinn, pointing to where the dip wasn't so steep.

Kara limped along until Quinn could reach her. She pulled Kara to level ground, slipping her arm under her shoulders.

“Those birds,” said Kara. “They tried to attack us.”

Quinn nodded. “They weren't the only ones.”

“Who was that man?” asked Kara as they made their way back toward the front entrance of the hotel. “And why was he after us?”

“Let's get back inside, before he realizes we're not in that room anymore,” said Quinn. “I promise I'll tell you everything.”

Kara stopped. “I'm not moving an inch. Not until you tell me who that man was.” Then she pointed at the boy. “And how do you know this guy? And his brother.”

“Yeah,” said the boy. “How
do
you know me?”

Quinn let go of Kara. She looked at the boy, then at her friend. “I don't know that man. I have no idea why he's after us.”

“But you know something,” insisted Kara.

Quinn nodded. “Last night, when we got to the hotel, you left the lobby. I stayed back.”

“Because of the old man in pajamas,” said Kara.

“Pajamas?” said the boy.

Quinn ignored him. “Before I left the lobby, that crazy man with the ball cap came bursting into the hotel. He stared at me like he knew me or something. It's like he's been after us ever since.”

There was a long pause, as though Kara was trying to process this information. Then she added, “Okay. So he's some crazy guy who thinks he knows you. But what about this kid?” she said, pointing to the boy. “How do you know him?”

“I saw his picture in the newspaper,” Quinn explained. “It said he was missing. There were two boys. Brothers.”

“What newspaper?” asked Kara.

“In the diner. The one Norm—I mean Not-Norm—was reading.”

The boy looked surprised. “I'm in the newspaper? Really? Are they searching for me? Who's Norm?”

“There is no Norm,” said Quinn.

He looked confused.

“Why didn't you tell me any of this?” said Kara, sounding more hurt than angry. “We tell each other everything.”

“I'd planned on telling you. Eventually. Once we were all safely in the minivan.”

“Hey,” the boy interrupted. “What about my brother? You said you'd help me find him.”

“We will,” said Quinn. “I promise. But first we need to get inside. Back to our room.”

“She's right,” said Kara. “Let's go. That man doesn't know where our room is. We'll be safe there.”

“My name's Quinn,” she said to the boy. “And this is Kara.”

“I'm Joe,” said the boy. “Glad to meet you.”

 

16

“W
ELCOME BACK
to Inn Between,” said Aides, holding the great door open wide.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” said Quinn. “You've been expecting us.”

Joe clung to Quinn's side as they crossed the lobby. There was no sign of the man with the ball cap. Persephone was busy with another guest. They slipped into the hall, making their way back to the room.

“Here we are,” said Kara, trying to sound cheerful. She dug into her pocket and pulled out the key. Thankfully she hadn't lost it. She opened the door—no one there.

Joe looked around. “Your room is different.”

Quinn hadn't given it much thought when the angry man was pounding on Joe's door, but his room had been different.

For starters, it was smaller. And there was only one bed, with a bright blue duvet dotted with footballs, soccer balls, and baseball bats. It was a kid's quilt, a kid's room—as though it had been specially prepared for him.

Quinn examined her room—the rosy quilts, the unicorn tapestry, the fluffy white pillows—these were all things she liked, things she would have decorated her room with if she'd had any say. Josh and his father's room was different altogether—more masculine, like the hotel staff knew who would be staying there.

As Quinn panned the room, her brain registered the sight at the same time as Kara. They looked at each other, and then back at the doors—the ones connecting their room and Josh's. His door was closed, and Quinn was certain when they'd last left it had been open.

Kara lunged toward the door. “Josh!” she yelled. She pounded on it with both hands but it was frozen. “Josh! Open up! Or, I swear—”

Quinn added her strength to Kara's, but the door was sealed tight, locked from the other side. “Josh? You in there?”

“Who's Josh?” asked Joe.

They stopped pounding.

“
My
brother,” said Kara. “He's missing. So are my parents.” Her shoulders sagged, as though it was the first time she'd admitted to herself something was wrong.

Quinn wrapped an arm around Kara's shoulders.

“But … you're supposed to help me,” said Joe. “You said you would. The lady said someone would come to help. She said that I was in the right place—that they were—”

Quinn finished his sentence. “Expecting you?”

He nodded and sank onto the bed. Quinn let go of Kara. She sat beside Joe. He stared at her, his eyes filling with tears.

“How did you get here?” Quinn asked him.

“I came here for help. But they have no phones. No computers. They told me to stay in my room, that help would arrive soon. But I'm worried about Adam.”

“Your brother?” asked Quinn.

Kara sat on the other side of Joe. “Tell us what happened and maybe we can figure something out.”

“We were camping.”

“Your family?” asked Kara.

Joe shook his head. “Scouts.”

He explained how his troop was spending three nights in Mojave National Preserve. They were taking part in a ranger program. They did lots of things, even hiked to the base of Kelso Dunes and heard all about the mysterious singing sands.

“Singing sands?” asked Quinn.

“When the wind passes over the dunes, they sing.”

Quinn thought of the humming she'd heard while they were driving—the mysterious hum that had grown louder and clearer, and then had suddenly disappeared.

“We were supposed to visit the caverns on the other side of the mountain, only all tours had been canceled because of water issues. That's when I got the idea. I told Adam we should go back to the caverns at night. We could sneak into the caves by ourselves.”

Joe paused. When he spoke again it was in a low voice, barely a whisper. “We waited until it was dark, then we hiked toward the mouth of the cave and crept into the hole in the rock. We headed deeper in. Then Adam fell into some kind of pit. He was okay—but it was deep. I tried to get him to reach my hand so I could pull him up, but I slid off the edge and then we were both stuck.”

Kara gasped. “What did you do? How did you get here?”

“At first we tried screaming. We screamed until our voices were hoarse. But there was no one around to hear. We were down there forever. Adam cried a lot. He was hungry and thirsty and scared. I told him everything would be okay. Someone would find us. Only no one did.”

“How did you get out?” said Quinn.

“I don't know. At first, it felt like I was falling asleep. I closed my eyes—just for a moment—and when I opened them, I had this weird burst of strength. Somehow I scaled the wall. I got out and yelled down to Adam. I promised him that I would get help.”

Quinn put an arm around his shoulder.

“I wandered around for a long time. Then I saw this light, in the distance. I headed for it and this is where I ended up.”

Joe stared at Kara, then at Quinn, his eyes filling with tears. “It's my fault Adam is out there.”

 

17

M
ONTHS HAVE PASSED.
The police have called off the active search. Emma is now becoming what they call a cold case. The principal of Quinn's school suggests they hold a memorial—a vigil—that evening for Emma outside the school.

Quinn lies stretched across her bed staring at the other half of the room—the half that has not been disturbed for months. In her mind, she paints a still-life watercolor. She calls it
Emma's Stuff.

The dusty rose bedspread is bent back on itself. A wrapper from a chocolate bar Emma has eaten lies crumpled on her nightstand. Beside it lies a book—
Anne of Avonlea.
Emma loves to read. Her favorite author is currently Lucy Maud Montgomery, though it changes each time she starts a new book. On the shelf beside her bed are all the novels she's read. On top sits her stack of “To Be Reads.”