The December day was what weathermen called “blustery” and what people who actually had to be out in it called “shitty.”
The late morning sky was hidden by a thick layer of clouds that hung low and ominous, drizzling ice and spitting out the occasional flake. At the same time, the wind was zipping over the flat plains at a speed that picked up the recently fallen snow that coated the ground, swirling it around the parking lot like frozen tornadoes.
Welcome to winter in the Midwest.
Carmen grimaced, pulling her rented SUV into the parking lot of the Fairview Hotel.
The one-story L-shaped building had seen better days.
Her gaze skimmed over the structure that was miles from the nearest town. The white paint was peeling, like a snake sloughing off its skin. The doors that had once been a bright yellow had faded to a dull mustard color. At the far end, a small brick diner had been added with a large window that blinked with a neon sign that said OPEN.
Parking in front of the office next to the diner, Carmen climbed out of the SUV and shivered. The cold was more cutting here than in the mountains. Or maybe her brief trip to California had reminded her that there were places where you didn’t have to worry about your face freezing when you stepped outside.
She entered the office and closed the door behind her.
The space was cramped and coated in the sort of cheap paneling that was popular in the sixties. The carpet was a weird orange color and the ceiling had dark splotches that had accumulated over the years from a leaking roof.
But the two wooden chairs in the alcove that made up the lobby had been recently polished, and there was the faint scent of bleach in the air.
The place was at least clean.
Moving toward the narrow counter, Carmen waited for a heavyset woman to heave herself out of a recliner that was set in front of a small TV.
She had salt-and-pepper hair that was scraped from her round face, and she was wearing a sweater in a shocking shade of pink with matching polyester pants. She looked like a grandmother from a Hallmark movie.
There was a gold tag pinned to ample bosom that told Carmen the woman was named Blanche and that she was the owner of the fine establishment.
“Need a room?” Blanche asked with a hopeful smile.
“Yes.”
“A single?” The woman glanced toward the window that offered a view of the parking lot.
“That will be fine.”
Blanche grabbed a pencil and the old-fashioned reservation book that was set on the counter.
“How many nights?”
“Just one. At least for now,” Carmen said, digging in her purse for her wallet. She pulled out her credit card, handing it to the woman, who was looking at her with an odd expression. It took Carmen a second to realize that a woman traveling alone didn’t stay in random hotels for unspecified amounts of time. “It depends on the weather,” she hastily added.
The woman gave a nod. People in Kansas understood the fickleness of nature.
“If it does turn bad, I can let you keep the same room,” she said, her voice dry. “This isn’t exactly a hot spot for the holidays, so I don’t expect we’ll have a sudden rush of guests.”
“This time of year I assumed a lot of people would be on the road,” she said.
Blanche shrugged. “They are, but travelers prefer to stop at a place that is part of a hotel chain. They’re always looking for reward points or free breakfast or Wi-Fi. It gets harder every day for regular folks to run a decent business.”
Carmen offered a sympathetic smile. The older woman had a worn demeanor. Like running a mediocre hotel fifty miles from the nearest city was grinding away her soul.
“I prefer a place with some character,” she smoothly lied.
The woman shrugged, no doubt sensing she was being patronized. “Thankfully, most of our customers are truckers. All they’re looking for is a clean bed, a big parking lot, and a nearby café that’s open twenty-four seven.”
Carmen leaned against the counter in a subtle gesture of encouragement as the woman ran her credit card and filled out the register book.
“You know, I remember a friend of mine who stayed at a hotel in this area a couple of weeks ago,” she said, trying to sound as if she’d just been struck by the memory. “He mentioned that there was some trouble with someone stealing a semi from the parking lot. Was that here?”
Immediately the woman was on the defense, her cheeks flushing a dark red.
“I can promise you that this hotel is very safe.” She pursed her lips. “You should hear what happens to people who stay in Kansas City. Criminals break right into their rooms.”
Carmen held up a hand. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to imply the hotel was dangerous. I was just wondering if they’d caught the thief.”
Blanche’s broad shoulders twitched. She looked like a hen who was trying to smooth her ruffled feathers.
“The truck was found a few miles away, so I don’t think anything ever came of it.”
“How weird.” Carmen tried to look confused. “Why would someone steal a truck and then just abandon it?”
“The cops assumed it was the work of some teenagers acting like fools,” she said, her voice tight with remembered annoyance. “Or maybe someone who thought they could steal the truck only to find out how hard them things are to drive.”
“What did you think?” Carmen pressed.
The woman shoved Carmen’s credit card across the counter, her flush deepening.
“I thought it was a bunch of crap,” she snapped.
Carmen blinked at the fierceness of the woman’s words. “Excuse me?”
“The driver who lost his truck was stomping around and cussing while the cops were upsetting our guests. Then they started pointing the finger at my husband, because the camera in the parking lot is just a fake.” Her expression was pinched, like she’d just sucked on a lemon. “It was a very unpleasant experience, let me tell you.”
“Yes, I can imagine,” Carmen sympathized, swallowing a sigh as the woman yanked open a drawer and pulled out an old-fashioned key.
If Blanche had any information about the truck’s disappearance, she would have happily shared the information with the cops, or anyone else who asked. Anything to make certain that no one could blame her or her husband for the theft.
“Your room is in the middle. There’s a small fridge and extra blankets, but if you need anything else just let me know.”
“Thanks.” She pasted a smile on her lips and turned to head out of the office.
She would go back later that evening. There was a good chance the husband would be taking the night shift. He might have more information.
For now, she intended to get a few hours’ sleep. She’d spent the entire night waiting in the Phoenix airport for her connecting flight. She was exhausted.
The snow had picked up speed while she’d been inside. With a grimace she opened the door of the SUV and grabbed her overnight bag. Her room was just down the sidewalk. It would be more trouble than it was worth to move the vehicle.
Slamming shut the door, she locked it and then turned to hurry past the row of mustard-colored doors. Intent on reaching her room before her eyes froze shut, she didn’t notice the dark form that appeared from the edge of the hotel until she heard footsteps crunching through the layer of ice coating the sidewalk.
The stranger was hunched forward, as if trying to make himself a smaller target for the icy wind. Something that might have been easier if he wasn’t wearing a puffy black parka that looked three sizes too large. Hands were stuffed in his coat pockets. A heavy stocking hat was pulled low, and his face was buried in the scarf that was wound in a deep layer of cashmere around his neck.
She stepped to the edge of the walkway as he neared, but at the same time his foot slipped on the frigid pavement and he lurched to the side.