The Woman In the Hotel

THE WOMAN IN THE HOTEL A PSYCHOLOGICAL SUSPENSE NOVEL ALEXANDRA MALLORY BOOK FOURTEEN CATHRYN GRANT Copyright © 2023 by Cathryn Grant All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information, contact [email protected] ISBN: 978-1-943142-75-0 This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Visit Cathryn online at CathrynGrant.com Cover design by Lydia Mullins Copyright © 2023 CONTENTS Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 50 Chapter 51 Chapter 52 Chapter 53 Chapter 54 Chapter 55 Chapter 56 Chapter 57 Chapter 58 Chapter 59 Chapter 60 Chapter 61 Chapter 62 Chapter 63 Chapter 64 Chapter 65 Chapter 66 Chapter 67 Chapter 68 Chapter 69 Chapter 70 Chapter 71 Chapter 72 Chapter 73 Chapter 74 Chapter 75 Chapter 76 Chapter 77 Chapter 78 Chapter 79 Chapter 80 A Note From Cathryn About the Author Also by Cathryn Grant CHAPTER 1 New York * * * I wasn’t in the habit of talking to anyone about anything going on inside my head. But Damien wasn’t anyone. Talking to him was different because he would never repeat the secrets I told him. Not verbatim, anyway. He would pick up a phrase here and there, he might choose an appealing word and repeat it over and over, telling everyone who came into the apartment what was on my mind, but they wouldn’t understand because he would keep the critical details locked inside his tiny brain. When I spoke to him, his eyes peered back at me as if he knew more than he was saying. I was careful to keep the names and identifying details of other people to myself, of course. If I named names, he might give away more than he should. But I really liked talking out loud, going over the things that were spinning viciously inside my mind until I felt as if four life-threatening blades were positioned inside my skull, a blender turning the flesh and blood vessels and nerves of my brain to pulp. “I don’t know what he knows,” I said. And inside my mind, I whispered his name—Ned. Lately, he was always in my apartment, even though he didn’t belong there. My agreement with Eileen had been that the two of us would live together. But Ned had become a constantly hovering presence. “He acts as if he knows something, as if he knows everything. I’m almost certain he doesn’t know anything at all, but I can’t be sure. He looks me right in the eye, and that’s unsettling. Do you know what I mean? Not many people can do that and lie at the same time.” Damien cocked his head and looked directly into my eyes with his beady, black ones. I nodded at him. “You know.” He gave a single nod in return. “He wants me to ask what he knows. He wants me to be upset. He wants me to think he’s figured me out. He knows there’s something different about me, and his instincts aren’t wrong.” Delicious mango! “I know he can’t begin to guess the truth, but I really don’t like that he’s talking to … well, I know who I mean.” I smiled at Damien. He bobbed up and down. Guess the truth! It startled me when he squawked out those words. I hadn’t heard him speak them before. He was listening more closely than I’d realized. Usually, he limited himself to two-word phrases. Maybe I should be more careful with what I was telling him. I laughed, considering how that thought would sound if I spoke it to another human being. “Even if he knows nothing at all, even if he doesn’t think there’s anything scary or worrisome about me, I don’t like that he keeps poking at me. It’s annoying. Is it just a game to show me he has the upper hand? Maybe all he wants is to make me uncomfortable and he thinks that will do it. Who knows? He’s strange. But I can’t assume that, can I?” Damien bobbed his head. He turned and began walking around the living room, looking for the rest of the food pellets I’d hidden for him. He was obviously tired of my circular speculation. I continued talking in a softer voice. I needed to listen for the sound of a key in the lock, so it was better not to talk quite so loudly. “There’s also …” I finished the sentence in my mind—Diana. “She’s going to keep thinking and talking and asking questions. There’s no way she would ever think … you know. People just don’t think that way. They don’t assume someone they know could ever do something like that.” I stopped talking as Damien’s crown rose higher. Maybe I was upsetting him. But it was true. People don’t ever think someone they know is a killer. Even when they find out someone they know actually did commit murder, they never want to believe it. So there’s not a lot of risk. Despite that, she was going to keep asking the same questions and thinking about the unsolved murder