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  The suitcase didn’t open.

  Maybe his fingers were damp. Todd wiped his hand on the robe and tried a second time. Once again, the lock refused to budge. He tried a third time and swore in frustration when it didn’t open. Even the correct combination wouldn’t work now, he thought. After three incorrect entries, the lock required a one-hour time-out. Todd was too tired and too hungry to deal with another setback just then. There was a restaurant just off the lobby. He glanced at the pile of damp clothing on the floor.

  Or maybe I’ll just call room service.

  While he waited for his food to arrive, Todd took a tour of the room. He was tempted to stretch out on the bed, but he knew that the second his head hit the pillow he’d be wrecked and there was still too much to do before he could let himself sleep. Besides, he was curious to see what a so-called haunted hotel room looked like.

  Emma’s grandmother had furnished the place with some very nice Victoriana. Mostly reproduction pieces, but a couple of curios on the nightstand looked as if they might be the real thing. As he crossed the room to the window, he suddenly realized that he’d been in this room before. It surprised him, too, because he and his family had never rented a single when they stayed at the inn. His mother had always insisted they get a suite so that the four of them could stay in the same room.

  So why was this one so familiar? The same feeling he’d had out in the woods came back to him. He was sure he’d been in there before. Todd scanned the room, searching his memory for a clue. Was it in the closet? He opened the door and winced. Even after all these years, the smell of cedar was as bracing as smelling salts.

  He found what he was looking for at the back of the closet. Crudely carved into the cedar lining, two sets of initials—his and Emma’s—that he’d put there the summer he turned fourteen, their secret hidden from prying eyes. For years, Todd had put any thoughts of the Spirit Inn out of his mind. Now he found himself flooded with happy memories.

  He’d been eleven the first time he met Emma. She was a year younger than he was, and he remembered his mother commenting that she looked small and underfed. If she was, though, he’d never have known it. Back then, Emma wore a knife strapped to her right leg, “just in case,” and could climb a tree like a monkey. Todd had thought her very brave. In subsequent years, she dropped the tough-kid act, but she was never completely at ease around other people. The summer he turned thirteen, Todd spent the entire week trying to work up the courage to kiss Emma, only to have her punch him in the stomach when he finally did. The year he turned sixteen was the last time they were together, and by then their friendship had blossomed into something that felt a lot like love. Since then, those summers at the Spirit Inn seemed more like fairy tales than something that had actually happened.

  Todd ran his index finger over the letters he’d carved in the fragrant wood. Seeing Emma again had been a pleasant surprise. From the little his mother had told him about her circumstances, he knew she’d had a tough childhood and he was glad she’d gotten a chance to make something of herself. A few breaks in life could make the difference between doing well and falling to the bottom. It was nice to know that Emma was the kind of person who’d make the most of any breaks she got.

  There was a knock on the door. He ducked out of the closet and let the waiter in. As the man set the table and laid out the covered dishes, Todd felt his mouth begin to water. He reached for his wallet and the waiter shook his head.

  “Compliments of the house.”

  Todd stood there awkwardly, so focused on the food that he was temporarily at a loss. Then he took out a ten, handed it to the man, and hustled him out the door.

  “Thank you, sir,” the waiter said. “Enjoy your meal.”

  Todd did enjoy his meal, and when it was over he finally allowed himself to lie down. The staff had been told to keep an eye out for Archie and the animal shelters were closed for the night. There wasn’t much more he could do for the little dog now but rest and start looking for him again in the morning. He glanced at the suitcase.

  Speaking of trying again.

  Todd took out his phone and started looking through the list of passwords, log-in IDs, and PIN numbers that he kept there. He found the code for the suitcase and frowned—he’d been entering the right one all along, so why hadn’t it worked? He tried it again.

  Still no luck. If it had been any other type of case, he could have picked the lock or even broken it to get his things out, but a pipe bomb wouldn’t have helped with that thing. Once again, Gwen and her family had put him in a fix.

  He looked at the clothes sitting in a heap on the floor. For the time being, at least, they were all he had to wear. Emma had offered to have the housekeeping staff launder them. Maybe it was time to take her up on the offer.

  When the housekeeper had gone, Todd got into bed, leaving the robe within easy reach in case someone came to the door. Then he took out his phone and called Gwen. The number rang five times before kicking him over to her voice mail. He left a brief message telling her where he was and that he’d call again in the morning, but didn’t say anything about Archie. After the argument they’d had over whether or not to keep him, Todd wasn’t sure he wanted to hear Gwen’s reaction when she found out the little dog was missing. He supposed his next call should be to Claire, but Todd was reluctant to tell his sister what had happened. She might have held her tongue once, but if she found out that Archie was lost, the gloves would come off. And there was no way he was going to tell her where he was staying, either. Knowing his sister, she’d see it as an open invitation to try to get Todd and Emma back together again. It would be safer, he thought, and much easier just to call his mother and have her pass the news along.

  “Where are you staying?” his mother asked when he got her on the phone.

  “Do you remember the Spirit Inn?”

  “Of course. We stayed there lots of times when your father was alive.”

  “The rest stop where Archie took off is just down the road from there. I didn’t even realize how close it was until I literally walked up to the back door.”

  “My goodness,” she said. “Has it changed much since we were there?”

  “Inside it has, yeah. But from the outside it looks exactly the same. Do you remember the owner’s granddaughter, Emma?”

  There was a pause.

  “Yes,” she said. “She used to play with you and Claire.”

  “Well, she owns the place now. We ran into each other in the lobby and she drove me back to the rest stop to help me look for Archie.”

  “Oh. Well, that was nice of her.”

  Todd frowned. Had the news about Emma made her uncomfortable, or was he just imagining things?

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Of course not. Why would there be?”

  “No reason.”

  You’re just tired, he told himself. It’s been a long day.

  “Anyway,” he said, “she asked about you and Claire and I told her about Dad. She even comped me a room in case Archie shows up.”

  “Oh, Todd. You didn’t let her.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll pay for it. I just didn’t want to be rude.”

  “Well, thank you for checking in. I’ll tell Claire you’ll call her tomorrow.”

  “Thanks, Ma.”

  “It’s no problem,” she said. “Say hello to Emma for me. Tell her I . . . well, I hope there aren’t any hard feelings.”

  Todd hung up and turned off the light. It was so peaceful at the inn, no traffic on the road outside, none of the chatter and background noise that he took for granted in the city. As he lay there in the dark, lulled by the patter of the rain outside, he felt his body begin to relax.

  I could get used to this.

  If he and Gwen bought a place out here, he thought, they could enjoy it all the time. With the money he’d made from the sale of his company, Todd would never have to work again, and if he wanted to continue writing game apps, he could do that anywhere. Gwen had be
en hinting that she might like to quit her job when they had kids, too, and what better place to raise them? The best times he and Claire had ever had were spent in the woods around the Spirit Inn. He couldn’t think of a more precious gift to give his own kids than the chance to do the same.

  Remembering the good times they’d had, Todd thought of how lucky Emma was to be living there at the inn. It was a job, yes, but one where you could walk out the door at the end of the day and find yourself in the place you loved best in the world. No commute, no waiting for time off so you could cram some relaxation into a week or two before heading back to the grind; just step outside and you’re there. No wonder she’d been so forgiving. Who could hold a grudge when they were surrounded by such peace?

  He supposed that’s why his mother’s comment about hard feelings had struck him as so odd. Was she worried that Emma would be angry with him? Well, she had been, briefly, but it hadn’t lasted long, and Emma had said nothing to make him think she was mad at his mother. Then Todd thought about how quickly he’d acquiesced when his mother asked him not to write to her all those years before, and it shamed him to realize how cowardly he’d been back then.

  No, Ma. Emma’s not the one with the hard feelings. I am.

  CHAPTER 10

  Emma couldn’t keep from smiling as she made her final pass through the inn that evening. Seeing Todd again had been like finding a piece of herself that she thought had been lost forever. She told herself that their reunion was only for one day; that Todd wasn’t staying for good; that once he found his dog, he’d be off again. But in spite of that, she’d begun fantasizing about what it would be like if he lived there permanently.

  He was obviously struggling financially. That old Jeep had to be at least fifteen years old, and the outfit he’d been wearing was barely adequate for the weather. In spite of what he’d told her about having plenty of clothes with him, Emma had found out that he’d asked housekeeping to launder his things so he’d have them to wear in the morning. She wasn’t surprised. Emma could still remember a time when she, too, had been too proud to ask for help. In spite of their generous offers, it was often easier to turn to strangers than to friends.

  As she stepped into the lobby, she saw the last of the ghost hunters returning to their rooms. The evening’s lectures had been over for some time, but it always took at least an hour for everyone to feel as if they’d gotten their money’s worth. Her night clerk, Jeremy, was at the front desk, listening as Clifton read out the list of things that needed to be taken care of before morning. As she walked past, she saw the young man stifle a yawn.

  Poor guy, she thought. Good thing it isn’t really possible to be bored to death.

  The Van Vandevanders were coming down the hall looking a bit dispirited as they carried the exhibits from Lars’s lecture back to their suite. Emma stopped to ask if there was anything she could do.

  “No,” Lars said. “It’s all right. Viv’s just feeling a bit deflated at the moment.”

  Emma glanced at the crestfallen Viv.

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing,” Viv said. “That’s the problem. Nothing at all happened. Not last night and not tonight, either.”

  She sighed dramatically.

  “I fear the spirits may have abandoned me.”

  Lars and Emma exchanged a look. Viv was having her annual moment of doubt. Until one or more ghosts made themselves known to her at the conference, she’d be inconsolable. It had gotten so bad one year that Emma was tempted to rattle a few chains around in the dark just to get Viv out of her funk.

  Lars patted his wife’s hand.

  “My dear, I’m certain that’s not the case,” he said. “You’ve had these little dry spells before and they never last.”

  “But what if this time is different?” she wailed.

  “Tut-tut. Be not downhearted. By this time tomorrow, I have no doubt that you’ll be ‘back in the groove,’ as they say.”

  Viv turned to Emma as if seeking confirmation.

  “He’s right,” Emma said. “It always seems to happen this time of year.”

  “Really?” Viv turned to her husband. “Is it possible the encounters are isochronal?”

  He frowned thoughtfully. “I don’t recall any research on the subject, but I suppose it is possible.”

  Emma was nonplussed. She hadn’t meant for her comment to be taken seriously. Nevertheless, she was glad to have lightened Viv’s gloom, at least temporarily.

  “Well,” she said, “whatever the reason, I’m sure someone or, er, something will show itself soon.”

  She gave Viv a hug and continued down the hall, making a brief circuit of the conference rooms before returning to the front desk.

  Clifton glanced at her over the top of his reading glasses as she approached.

  “I had room service waive the charge for Mr. Dwyer’s dinner.”

  He wrote something on a piece of paper and handed it to Jeremy.

  “Poor man looked as if he hadn’t eaten all day.”

  Emma stared. Since when did Clifton show any sympathy for the less fortunate? When Todd showed up that afternoon, it looked as if he’d been ready to toss him out.

  “I’m sure he appreciated it,” she said.

  “It was good of you to offer him a room. Heaven knows where he’d be sleeping tonight otherwise.”

  She pursed her lips, wondering what was really behind Clifton’s comments. Emma would have bet that her assistant manager was promoting some personal agenda. Whatever it was, though, she’d prefer he didn’t talk about it in front of their night clerk.

  Good grief. He isn’t jealous, is he?

  “You don’t have any objection to Mr. Dwyer’s staying here, do you?”

  “Hmm?” He looked up. “No, no objection. I was under the impression that you were concerned about the inn’s finances, but of course you have every right to treat your beau, if you wish.”

  She saw Jeremy’s eyes widen.

  “Todd is an old friend, Cliff. He lost his dog and I thought it would be nice to offer him a place to stay until he finds it.”

  He looked at her blandly.

  “I see.”

  “And for your information, he’s not my beau.”

  “Thank you for telling me. I’m sorry if I upset you.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said, trying to regain her composure.

  Clifton removed his glasses and tucked them into his breast pocket.

  “However, I can’t say I’m not relieved,” he said. “I’d hate to see you taken advantage of... again.”

  Emma felt her face flush. So there it was, the whole reason for this conversation. Clifton was giving her a not-so-subtle message: You’ve screwed up before. Don’t let it happen again.

  It was humiliating having her past mistakes thrown in her face, especially in such a sneaky, passive-aggressive way. If Emma tried to call him on it, she was sure that Clifton would deny he’d meant anything of the sort. Emma glanced at Jeremy, whose eyes were practically glued to the paper in front of him, and mustered as much dignity as she could.

  “Thank you for your concern,” she said. “I think I’ll go to my quarters now.”

  Gran had always told her that the best way to get over an upset was to find a job that needed doing, so the minute Emma got back to the cottage, she changed out of her work clothes and started to clean. First the bathroom, then the kitchen counters; after that, she swept and vacuumed the floors. She’d been tired before, but after what Clifton had said, she knew she wouldn’t sleep until she was ready to drop from exhaustion. As angry as she was, Emma knew that Clifton’s words wouldn’t have hurt nearly so much if there hadn’t been some truth to them. She hadn’t always shown good judgment when it came to men, and she’d fallen for some real creeps in the past, but that was behind her and she was smarter now. Besides, Todd wasn’t just some guy who’d wandered in off the streets. He and Emma had a history together; they knew each other; they’d been good friends, once.
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  Once.

  Like a fairy tale, she thought. Once upon a time. The fact was, she didn’t know anything about the Todd Dwyer who was sleeping up there at her inn. She had no idea what he’d been up to the last thirteen years. He could be a deadbeat dad or a felon or a serial killer for all she knew.

  Emma started to laugh. It began as a giggle and grew until she was too weak to stand. She collapsed on the couch and gasped for breath, laughing so hard that tears ran down her cheeks.

  A serial killer? Really? Okay, you. Time to go to bed.

  She put on her pajamas and pulled out the sofa bed, then snuggled under the covers, enjoying the feeling of contentment brought on by the belly laugh. She mustn’t let Clifton upset her, Emma told herself. She had nothing to apologize for. All she’d done was help out an old friend. If nothing more came of it, that was fine. Emma might be struggling some, but she was a heck of a lot better off than most people. She closed her eyes and thought of all the things she’d do when the bank came through with her loan.

  There was someone at the door. Emma opened her eyes and squinted at the clock: one forty. Who would be banging on her door at this hour? It could be Jeremy, she supposed, if there was an emergency and the phone lines were down, but she still had electricity. She waited a few seconds, expecting to hear a voice. Maybe she’d only dreamed she heard a noise.

  No, Emma was sure it was real. It wasn’t the rain, or the rustle of tree branches, or even one of the nocturnal animals that occasionally sniffed and scratched at her door. Something out there had made a noise she hadn’t heard before outside her cottage. She sat up and strained her hearing, waiting for the slightest hint that whatever it was had not been a delusion.

  There it was again, fainter now, but still noticeable—a low moaning sound that made the hair rise on the back of her neck. Emma took a deep breath, reminding herself that, in spite of the Spirit Inn’s reputation, there really were no such things as ghosts.