The Hotel

Praise for Louise Mumford‘Thrilling … Frighteningly inventive’ John Marrs‘A brilliantly original premise which is horrifyingly believable’ Catherine Cooper‘An original and action-packed thriller, with a perfectly unnerving premise that hooked me from the start’ Philippa East‘A twisty, action-packed plot makes this intriguing thriller unputdownable’ Roz Watkins‘Perfectly realised’ Trevor Wood‘Tense, claustrophobic and oh-so addictive’ Penny Batchelor‘A compulsive and tightly woven thriller’ Karin Nordin‘A captivating and distinctive thriller’ Sarah Clarke‘A complex, clever novel with memorable characters … A truly gripping rollercoaster ride’ Vikki Patis About the AuthorAuthor photo: Nigel BrownLouise Mumford was born and lives in South Wales. From a young age she loved books and dancing, but hated having to go to sleep, convinced that she might miss out on something interesting happening in the world whilst she dozed – much to her mother’s frustration! Insomnia has been a part of her life ever since.She studied English Literature at university and graduated with first class honours. As a teacher she tried to pass on her love of reading to her students (and discovered that the secret to successful teaching is … stickers! She is aware that that is, essentially, bribery).In the summer of 2019 Louise experienced a once-in-a-lifetime moment: she was discovered as a new writer by her publisher at the Primadonna Festival. Everything has been a bit of a whirlwind since then.Louise lives in Cardiff with her husband and spends her time trying to get down on paper all the marvellous and frightening things that happen in her head. Also by Louise MumfordSleeplessUKUSThe Safe HouseUKUS The HotelLOUISE MUMFORD HQAn imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.1 London Bridge StreetLondon SE1 9GFFirst published in Great Britain by HQ in 2023Copyright © Louise Mumford 2023Louise Mumford asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.E-book Edition © June 2023 ISBN: 9780008589844Version: 2023-04-13 Table of ContentsCoverPraise for Louise MumfordAbout the AuthorAlso by Louise MumfordTitle PageCopyrightDedicationNote to ReadersPrologueChapter 1Chapter 2Chapter 3Chapter 4Chapter 5Chapter 6Chapter 7Chapter 8Chapter 9Chapter 10Chapter 11Chapter 12Chapter 13Chapter 14Chapter 15Chapter 16Chapter 17Chapter 18Chapter 19Chapter 20Chapter 21Chapter 22Chapter 23Chapter 24Chapter 25Chapter 26Chapter 27Chapter 28Chapter 29Chapter 30Chapter 31Chapter 32Chapter 33Chapter 34Chapter 35Chapter 36Chapter 37Chapter 38Chapter 39Chapter 40Chapter 41Chapter 42Chapter 43Chapter 44Chapter 45Chapter 46Chapter 47Chapter 48Chapter 49Chapter 50Chapter 51Chapter 52Chapter 53Chapter 54Chapter 55Chapter 56Chapter 57Chapter 58Keep Reading …AcknowledgementsDear Reader …About the Publisher To Jason, always.To my grandmother who was, without fail, so fiercely supportive and who would have been so proud. Note to ReadersThis ebook contains the following accessibility features which, if supported by your device, can be accessed via your ereader/accessibility settings:Change of font size and line heightChange of background and font coloursChange of fontChange justificationText to speech PrologueMost evenings, before she went to bed, Bex Harrison played the end of the video.It was the most-watched scene in the film.Those few minutes of grainy, badly shot action had been paused, picked apart, zoomed in on, mapped out, enlarged and argued about for ten years. Everyone had a theory about what happened that night.Bex watched as, wide-eyed and out of breath, the young man in the green raincoat ran with the camera jolting in his grip, its lens trained on his face. Leo Finch. The baby of the group, bespectacled, barely eighteen, quick to smile, slow to speak; a fan favourite. He was silent, moving fast, and the audience ran with him, held in his hand.Her friend since childhood.Bex paused the video and shuffled closer to the television so she could see the pixels that made up his face. Now he was only a refraction of light played upon countless screens, but she put her hand to his cheek anyway, feeling the tears sting.By pressing play she brought him to life once more, if only for a few minutes.For a dizzying second there was a blur as the camera fell out of his grip but when it landed, it faced the steps: narrow slick chunks of rock dug out from the cliff face. In the film they had climbed those steps only a few hours ago and, to Bex, sitting in front of her television, it felt like that, only hours since she had seen him, though she knew it was now far too many years. They had jostled and pretended to push each other over the gaping edge where there was no safety rail to save them, their laughter a jittery sound of excitement mixed with something darker, as black as the rock above and below them.On the screen Leo ran against a sky where night was draining away but morning was a sick colour, infection red and broiling with cloud. It was hard to tell if he was running towards something … or running away from it. He did not cast a look behind him as he took the steps, far too quickly, with too much reckless abandon, his arms out at his sides as if they could balance him. There was a shout then, the sound twisted by the wind battering the cliff, but Bex knew the voice.It was hers.Leo stood close to the edge on a wide curve in the rock steps, his back to the camera. Then a foot appeared on the screen: purple leather boot, bright yellow laces, mud on the toecap. That was hers too.Pause. Bex stopped the video.She knew