Chapter 3 - The Ghost in Room 114The heater in the Mercedes blasted high, filling the cabin with warmth. Grant tossed his extra gloves onto Ellie’s lap and plugged his phone into the dashboard.
"Mark," Grant said into the car's microphone, his voice dropping an octave into a cold, dangerous register that made his director flinch miles away.
"Grant? Did you drop the call?" Mark asked.
"Listen to me very carefully," Grant interrupted, glaring through the windshield at the distant motel signs. "Who was checked into Room 114 at Pinerest Lodge last night?"
There was a pause on the line. The sound of rustling paper. "Uh... let me check the ledger. That unit was under... Michael Delaney. Why? Is there an issue with the plumbing?"
"Michael Delaney," Grant repeated, tasting the name like ash. "Did our manager evict him this morning?"
"Well, yeah. Three weeks behind on rent. Standard protocol, Grant. We have a policy. No cash, no key."
Grant’s knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. "Standard protocol includes throwing a six-year-old child out into eleven-degree weather on Christmas Eve?"
Silence stretched over the line. "I... I wasn't informed about a child, Grant. The manager just said—"
"Pack your things, Mark," Grant said flatly. "You’re fired. And call the police. I want a BOLO out on a rusted 2010 Ford pickup, license plate ending in 4982. Now."
He hung up before Mark could stutter another word.
Beside him, Ellie stirred. The warmth of the car was finally melting the ice on her cheeks. She looked up at Grant with heavy, exhausted eyelids.
"Are you taking me to the police?" she asked softly.
"No, Ellie," Grant said, looking down at her with a fierce protection he hadn't felt since his own sister passed away years ago. "I’m taking you somewhere safe. But first... what’s in this envelope?"
May you like
Ellie looked down at the red paper. The digital clock on the dashboard dashboard blinked: 11:58 AM.
Two minutes until noon. Two minutes until Christmas Eve afternoon.
