The Inn Between (6 page)

Most people sat alone—business travelers, thought Quinn. Though most were very old, some were really young—not much older than Quinn and Kara. They didn't look at all like they were there on business. There was no sign of Kara's parents.

A uniformed woman bustled toward them. She had definitely passed smile-school with flying colors. “Good morning. We've been expecting you.”

Kara spoke up. “We're looking for my parents. Have you seen a man and a woman? Tall man, longish hair. With a woman wearing jeans and a yellow T-shirt?”

“No one like that this morning, miss,” said the woman. “May I seat you?”

“Sure!” said Josh.

“Hold on,” said Kara. “We have to wait for Mom and Dad. We don't have any money.”

“Breakfast is complimentary,” said the bubbly woman.

Josh grinned. “See. Complimentary. Don't worry about Mom and Dad—they'll find us.”

Quinn looked at Kara. She raised her eyebrows.

“He's right. They're probably out for a hike,” said Kara. “Some alone time.” She stretched the word
alone
and rolled her eyes. “We might as well eat.”

Quinn nodded. The food smelled delicious. And knowing Josh, Mr. and Mrs. Cawston would check the restaurant first.

The woman seated them near the entrance to the lobby so they could keep an eye out. Josh raced ahead to the buffet. Quinn and Kara followed.

Waves of crisp bacon, sausages glossy with grease, fluffy yellow clouds of scrambled eggs, plate-size pancakes wafting vanilla and cinnamon into the air lined the buffet. There were fresh berries and sliced pineapple and three kinds of melon balls. There was even a carving station with a huge slab of baked ham and an enormous hunk of roast beef. A man dressed in white stood behind it holding a gleaming knife, prepared to shave off a sliver.

Josh was in heaven. He piled his plate high until it was a staggering mound of breakfast delights. By the time Quinn and Kara got to the table he was already elbow-deep in sausages, eggs, and pancakes. He chomped and smacked loudly. Quinn slipped a bite of blueberry pancake into her mouth. It practically melted on her tongue.

While she ate, she studied the sea of faces at the surrounding tables. There was an old woman with cotton-candy hair and gray crinkly eyes, a man with slicked-back hair wearing a pin-striped business suit, and a young couple leaning in close talking in hushed whispers. Different complexions, different ages, yet they all shared a strange expression—as though something wasn't quite right.

“I need my wallet,” whispered the young woman.

“Don't worry,” said the guy with her. “They said we don't need any money.”

“I want my purse back. Have you seen my purse? Someone took my purse.”

At another table Quinn saw a family—a man, a woman, and a little girl. For a second she wondered if it had been the little girl she'd heard crying the previous night. It was possible.

“It's so hot in here,” said the woman. She fanned herself with her hand. “I'm dying of heat.”

Pearls of sweat covered the man's forehead. His face looked flushed. He mopped himself with his napkin. “The air-conditioning must be broken,” he said. “I'll speak to the front desk.”

Quinn frowned. She wasn't hot at all. In fact, if anything, she felt a slight chill.

While the parents continued to complain about the heat, the little girl sat silently, clutching a cloth doll. It wore a frilly green dress and had matching green shoes. Its hair was a tangle of orange wool. The girl held out her doll and smoothed down the hair. That's when Quinn noticed one side of the doll's hair was singed and part of her green dress was smudged with soot. The girl didn't seem to notice. Or perhaps she didn't care.

Beside the family sat a teenage guy with a faux-hawk. His arms were covered in tattoos. He was bent over a steaming cup of coffee. He looked exhausted, as though he'd been up all night.

Quinn sat contemplating the strange assortment of guests. She was about to pop a bite of greasy sausage into her mouth, when her eyes fell on
him
.

In the farthest corner, draped in shadow, was the man with the black-and-yellow ball cap. Even across the crowded room, Quinn could see his bloodshot eyes examining Kara, then Josh, before settling on her.

 

9

Q
UINN'S FORK SLIPPED
from her grasp. Sausage catapulted across the table.

Josh snatched it midair and popped it into his mouth. “Thanks.”

“You're disgusting!” said Kara.

Quinn broke free from the man's gaze, but she couldn't shake the feeling that he was still staring at them.

“What's wrong?” asked Kara. “You look like you've seen a ghost.”

“It's nothing,” said Quinn. She didn't want Kara to think she was acting paranoid. Again.

Quinn forced a weak smile. She was imagining things—just like she'd imagined the blood. Like she'd imagined Emma crying. She told herself that the man wasn't even looking at their table. He was probably just staring off into space, deep in thought. People did that sort of thing.

Kara narrowed her eyes. “There's something you're not telling me.”

Quinn found her fork and began puncturing holes in her scrambled eggs. “It's nothing. Honestly.” She placed a bite of egg into her mouth. It tasted like rubber.

While she chewed, she stole a glance at the far corner. The man sat straight in his chair, an empty plate in front of him.

“Best … breakfast … ever,” said Josh, his mouth so crammed with bacon he could hardly get the words out. He'd cleaned his plate and was gearing up for another round at the buffet.

“Hurry,” said Kara as he dashed off. “I wanna find Mom and Dad.”

Where had the Cawstons gone? Kara didn't seem too disturbed by their absence and neither did Josh, which put Quinn somewhat at ease. She tried to eat a few more bites, but all the while she volleyed glances between her plate and the far corner. The man just sat there, his icy glare prickling her skin.

Josh returned with even more food than the first time. Kara and Quinn watched with a mixture of marvel and disgust as he shoveled truckloads into his mouth. Amazing he was as thin as a rail.

“Will you hurry?” said Kara.

Syrup dripped down his chin. “Quit rushing me. It's not like we have anywhere to go.”

As the two argued, out of the corner of her eye Quinn registered movement. Her face shot in the man's direction. He was standing. He took a step toward their table.

She was suddenly filled with a deep sense of dread. She sprang to her feet. “We gotta go.”

Kara stood in reflex. “What? Why?”

Quinn pulled Josh to his feet. “Come on. We need to leave.”

“But … I'm not done yet!” said Josh, digging in his heels. He reached for his last bite of bacon.

There was no time to explain. Quinn had to get out of the restaurant. To get away from that man. She'd try to explain once they were a safe distance from the stranger. “Please.”

Kara looked at Quinn and sighed. She nodded and grabbed Josh's other arm. “You've had enough, big brother.” Together they hauled him protesting toward the exit.

Before she left the restaurant, Quinn glanced over her shoulder. The man was heading toward them. He wasn't running, but he was tall and his strides were long. He'd catch up soon enough.

Quinn searched the lobby. It was quiet and there was no place to hide. They'd never make it to the far end and down the hallway in time.

Persephone was at the front desk. Quinn motioned with her head and they hurried toward her. Something told Quinn they'd be safe near Phony.

“What was that all about?” asked Josh.

“That man, he's after us,” whispered Quinn.

“What man?” said Kara, searching the lobby.

“That man,” said Quinn, pointing to the restaurant doors. She watched, expecting the guy to come charging toward her any second. The only person who came out was the cotton-candy-haired woman.

Josh and Kara exchanged glances. Quinn was about to explain when Persephone interrupted.

“Can I help you?”

“Have you seen my parents?” said Kara.

Persephone stared at her, the same stubborn smile superglued to her face. Her skin was pale, almost translucent.

“Cawstons, right?” She pulled a message pad from under the counter and read. “Ah, yes. They had to leave,” she said. “Car trouble. Apparently your minivan had to be towed.”

“Towed?” said Josh. “Are you serious?”

“Afraid so. They said you should hang around here. Find something to do. They said they'd be back as soon as they could.”

“Well,” said Kara, “that explains it.”

“Great,” said Josh. “My tablet's still in the car.”

All the while, Quinn kept checking the restaurant doors, but the man had not come out. She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He hadn't been following them after all. She'd been imagining things again.

“I wonder why they both went?” said Kara. “I mean, why wouldn't Mom stay with us?”

“When are they getting back?” Quinn asked Persephone. “Did they say?”

“More important, what are we supposed to do in the meantime?” said Josh.

As if it were possible, Persephone's smile grew wider. “How about a swim? Relax. Enjoy yourselves.”

“A swim?” said Quinn, still casting nervous glances at the restaurant doors. “But we don't have bathing suits.”

“No problem,” said Persephone. “There's a shop on the second floor. They'll have everything you need. Your parents said you could charge anything you want to the room.”

“Anything? Cool!” said Josh, heading toward the elevator.

Kara frowned. “Charge anything we want?” Her parents were free spirits, not free spenders. “That's not like them.”

“Don't bother with the elevator,” said Persephone.

Josh swung around. “Why not?”

“It's terribly slow. There isn't much point. The stairs are far quicker.”

“I want to call my parents,” Kara said to Persephone. “Can I use your phone?”

“Good idea,” said Quinn. “I need to call my mom as well.”

The woman tilted her head. Her shoulders sagged. “I'm afraid our phones are for internal use only.”

Kara deflated. “Right. I forgot.”

“How about a cell?” offered Quinn. “Can we use your cell phone?”

Persephone shook her head. “Sorry. Haven't got one. Not much use around here. Like I told you last night, reception fades in and out in the desert. You almost never get any service.” She perked up again. “Enjoy the pool. Just be careful. It's deeper than it appears.”

Quinn looked at Kara. A silent message passed between them. They were stranded at the Inn Between.

 

10

S
EÑORA
M
ÁRQUEZ SITS AT HER DESK
SCOWLING
.

All eyes are on Quinn. Blood has completely drained from her face. She's ghostly pale. She has never stolen anything in her life. Now she's branded a thief. A word thief. Her heart melts into a puddle beneath her desk.

Kara bites her lower lip and hangs her head. She will lose a full grade on her assignment. Señora Márquez says the cheatee is as bad as the cheater.

The teacher takes a deep breath. She says if Quinn rewrites the assignment after school, while she looks on, she will retract Quinn's failed grade. Quinn nods feebly.

Señora Márquez tells everyone to open their textbooks. Quinn tries to focus on the words in front of her, but they swim around the page. She feels the weight of stares lingering on her shoulders until the end of the day.

It's nearly four o'clock when Quinn picks up her pencil. Except for her and the teacher, the classroom is empty. The halls bare.

“You called your parents?” asks Señora Márquez. “They know you're staying late?”

Quinn can't bring her mouth to lie, so she lets her head do it. She manages a single nod.

“They're coming to pick you up?” asks the teacher. “It will be dark.”

Quinn nods a second time. First a thief, now a liar. She can hear her father's disappointed voice in her head. “Oh what a tangled web we weave…” Quinn's web has gotten so tangled it's strangling her.

Her hand trembles as she writes. She stares at the clock, then at what she's written. She erases a chunk and begins again. She sighs. Should she use
tener
or
haber
? They both mean “to have.” And here—should it be
ser
or
estar
? Why is this so complicated?

When she hands in her assignment, Señora Márquez looks it over quickly as though she's already decided on a grade. “I'm disappointed in you, Quinn,” she says. “I hope you've learned a lesson.”

Quinn's head bobs. Yes. Yes she has. And this time it's no lie.

It's late by the time she packs up. She has to beat Señora Márquez to the parking lot. Quinn zips through the empty halls and bursts out the front door. The sun has all but disappeared. The sky is deep purple, pressing into black. The streets seem darker than usual.

Quinn follows the same route she and Emma take every morning and every afternoon. Only it all seems strange now. Wrong.

She thinks of Emma. Though they share the same high cheekbones, the same straight nose, Quinn's cheeks are gaunt and her hair is dull. She is like a faded photocopy from a printer running out of ink. Only she came into the world first. She should be the vibrant one. Emma should be the copy. It doesn't seem fair.

The air is icy. Vapor puffs from Quinn's mouth and the wind snatches it away. Kara's right—it might snow soon. Most slopes will open early.