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“I’m not allowed into the CCTV room, so no, I definitely don’t. What I do know is that the guy was dressed in black, from head to toe.”
“Anything else?”
Like the tattoo on his neck that made me check the room? Yeah, I wasn’t going to share that information.
“No,” I stated, crossing my legs. “The doors of the suite were open, and when I went to check on it, I saw the trail of blood at the very entrance. Maybe I should have called security, but I pushed the door open and saw that man lying on the ground with a bullet hole in his forehead.”
My stomach turned, my mind playing again and again the images in front of my eyes.
“Did you touch the body?” She wrote something down, asking me another question.
“No.” I shook my head. “Karina, our Guest Relations Officer, came in shortly after me. She was delivering amenities on the floor, and saw the door open.”
“And that’s all?” she asked, arching her eyebrow at me. “You saw nothing else?”
“We called you guys and our Loss Prevention Team. That’s all.”
Silence ensued as she scribbled more information in her folder, no doubt recording everything I just said. “Very well,” she murmured, looking at the paper. “That’ll be all, Ms. Evelyn,” the Officer Lennox said, lifting her head to look at me. “If you remember anything else, please let us know. You might be called down to the station to give an official statement. Are you gonna be able to do that?”
I knew she wasn’t asking if I would be able to do it physically, but mentally.
“Of course,” I gritted out. “I’m sure you already have my contact information, so,” I stood up, “it was a pleasure meeting you, Officer.” Not.
“Likewise.” She stood up, closing the folder. “Let me know if you have any questions.”
We both knew I wouldn’t do it, but I nodded anyway, pretending I would call them if I remembered anything or if I got into any sort of trouble.
I was already in trouble, in a hot fucking mess, and they couldn’t help me. No one could.
“Have a good night.” I smiled, plastering on my best customer service face, and slowly exited the office, finally feeling like I could breathe.
There was nobody in the hallway as I exited, only the humming of the vending machine that stood down the hallway echoed around me, and I forgot how eerie it was inside the hotel at this time of night when nobody else was around. As I walked down the hallway, toward the exit leading to the front of house, the darkness from the offices surrounding me closed around me, reaching toward me, and I quickened my pace, rushing toward the exit, hoping I’d be able to finally leave.
The moment I pushed the door open, breathing in the familiar lemongrass scent that was used in the lobby, I felt like I could breathe. I bent down, letting it all wash over me—the murder tonight, the fact that I would need to get out of this city, the mere thought that I would lose everything I'd worked for.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Ev,” Alistair, one of our senior bellmen, approached me, a worried look on his face. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I huffed. “Absolutely.” I straightened up, looking at him. “It’s been a long night.”
“You look tired,” he observed. “Michael is already here for the night shift. You should get some sleep maybe.”
“Yeah, sleep,” I agreed, but I knew I wouldn’t be sleeping. The moment I got home, I’d be packing, trying to see where I could go. Maybe the West Coast? Maybe Santa Monica?
It was an unwritten rule that motorcycle clubs ruled the West Coast, Italians the North, and the Outfit this central part. Maybe they wouldn’t be able to find me there?
“I’ll see you in two days.” I grinned, careful not to show the panic pushing through my system. The last thing I needed was to involve more people in my mess.
“Are you off?” Alistair asked, his eyes twinkling. “Don’t tell me, you’re going to read and relax and ignore the rest of the world?”
More like,run, hide, get the fuck out of here. “Something like that,” I murmured and started walking toward the front desk where Michael, our Night Manager, stood talking to a guest. His eyes kept flickering between me and the guest, but I knew he wouldn’t abandon the guest to just simply talk to me, and I didn’t want to wait.
I'd already wasted too much time here tonight, and my window of time was slowly closing, slipping through my fingers. If there was one thing I learned while living in Croyford Bay, that was to run immediately.
To get the fuck out as soon as something like this happened. My father was proof of that, and the fact that he didn’t run, that he didn’t try to get out, cost him his life.
“I’ll text you,” I mouthed to Michael as I stood behind the guest, and a barely there nod was all I got from one of my favorite colleagues. I hoped they would all understand why I had to go. I hoped they wouldn’t be too mad, but I had to leave.
