Luke woke up at six. He didn't recall going to sleep, but he did recall lying in bed and convincing himself that he could close his eyes for only a few minutes. Here he was, hours later, blinking away a dream.

He brushed his teeth, washed his face, reread his note, and went outside. It was drizzling, and he stuck to the protection of the wing's awning as he walked to the main building, hands in his pockets. He should've brought a warmer coat.

He entered the lobby, wiping his shoes off on the welcome mat. They squeaked against the floors anyway. There was no one at the desk, but the food cubbies were entirely full, so he knew Tasi had been busy.

"Hey Mr. Businessman."

Luke turned to face the lounge. The woman from earlier was sitting and smoking. There were already two butts in the ashtray; this was her third. 

"May I interest you in company?" she asked.

Luke considered it. He must've thought too long, because she smiled and shrugged.

"You can say no," she said lightly. "I won't mind."

Luke shook his head and joined her at the lounge, sitting down across the table. "I'm Luke."

"Margaret." She flicked off the ashes. "You're here for dinner?"

"I think I'll wait a bit." He'd slept enough during the day to be wide awake at night. He may as well eat a little later.

"You ain't from around here, are you?"

Luke raised an eyebrow, surprised. "This is a hotel. No one is from around here."

"I know, but everyone I've met so far sounds southern. Except for you and Tasi, but her name sounds Hawaiian, so I'll guess she grew up there. What about you?"

"Vermont," Luke said. 

"Ah. The north." Margaret grinned. "It's fucking cold up there, ain't it?"

"It is very, very cold," he agreed. "But it made me underestimate how cold it can get down here, too. I didn't bring a thicker coat because I thought, well, it can't possibly be that bad."

"Yeah, well." She chuckled. "You live and you learn."

"And you? Where are you from?"

"Grew up in Alabama," she replied, "now I work in Reno. Travel when I have to."

"You're here on work? What do you do?"

"Hospitality management. I work for a hotel chain."

Luke blinked. "Are they covering your stay here?"

"That would be right."

"So you work for a hotel chain," he said slowly, "but they made you stay here? Instead of in Little Rock?"

Margaret shrugged. "It's what I get for being difficult to work with. They cheaped out on my allowance, and the Paradise was the best I could get. And you're one to talk, anyhow. I thought consulting was glamorous."

"It's what I get for being the new guy," Luke said. "I wouldn't have wanted to be in Little Rock, anyway. It's quieter up here."

"Yeah. Suppose it is. What are you here consulting for?"

Luke had prepared for this question. He'd hoped to avoid it, but he didn't see any harm, either. He doubted Margaret considered him any more than a stranger to talk to for one night and forget about. 

"I'm here to present an advertising plan for a company's new cereal product," he explained. "I'd tell you which, but it's confidential until it gets publicized. Let's just say they've got a new flake shape that they're sure will take the nation by storm."

"Wow." She nodded but struggled to be impressed. "Don't take no offense, but I was expecting something...more. Sending a person to present a plan for a new flake. What a world."

Luke laughed. "No offense taken. Like I said, I'm the new guy. I get stuck with the weird projects."

They both turned their heads when Tasi burst through the door behind the desk. She was bent forward, dragging along a massive cooler, likely to restock the bar since that was where she was headed. Luke tried not to stare. She looked to be around a hundred pounds soaking wet and was very obviously struggling.

He stood. "Do you need help?'"

"No, no." Tasi waved him off. "If you pull a muscle, I'm liable."

Luke stayed standing. "Are you always doing the heavy lifting?"

"Oh, no. There's a maintenance man that comes up every few days to do the real big things. He's not due till tomorrow. I'll make do. You sit and enjoy, Mr. Galloway."

Luke sat. He still wanted to help, but Tasi was right. On the off chance he injured himself, even if he didn't sue her, the hotel management could fire her. He wouldn't meddle where he wasn't wanted.

Margaret was about to comment, but she suddenly straightened. Luke heard the front door's bell chime, signaling an entry. He watched as a boy walked in, head down, and went straight to the food wall. Without even taking a moment to consider his choices, the boy pushed a coin into one of the slots, grabbed some soup, and hurried out. Margaret was watching him the entire time, her grip on her cigarette tight.

"I've been waitin' here all this time just to see him, make sure he's okay," she said when the boy had left. She took a drag and sighed out the smoke. "How old did he look to you, Luke?"

"About fifteen, sixteen. Why?"

"I think he's here alone."

Luke glanced out the front windows. The boy bumped into a woman and then kept walking. "Do you know that for sure?"

"No," she admitted. "I'd talk to him, but it don't seem like he wants to be talked to." Margaret leaned forward and clasped her hands together. "Think back to when you were fifteen. If you were a runaway, and someone approached you to help you, would you let them, or would you tell them to fuck off?"

"At fifteen?" Luke had to be honest. "I'd tell them to fuck off."

"Supposed as much." Margaret put out the cigarette and rubbed her temples. "I think I'll leave him alone. Suggest you do the same." She stood, taking her ashtray. As she opened her mouth to speak, a flash of light flickered from the windows, and thunder boomed across the sky. The drizzle became a bit heavier. 

Margaret sighed. "If it rains too hard, they'll push back my meetings, and I'll have to stay longer than I wanted to. Same'll happen to you, I figure." She shook her head. "Goodnight, Luke, and good luck with your flake plan."

"Thanks," he said, and Margaret left. He watched her run through the rain until he couldn't see her anymore.

Luke rubbed his face. He had an obligation to integrity. In the boy's case, did that mean he was supposed to do the right, legal thing and get him help? Or was he supposed to deescalate the situation and ensure everyone's safety, which might actually best be done by leaving the kid to his own devices, as he clearly didn't want help?

Tasi had decided to do the latter. So had Margaret. Luke was, technically, just a businessman. He had no more skin in the game then they did. 

Luke sighed and stood, headed for the food wall.

.......................................

Elsie was walking to the main building when she bumped into the boy. He had his head down and hadn't seen her, and she hadn't realized he was coming right for her in time to move out of the way. They collided—it was a soft bump, really—and he reeled back like he'd been slapped. His name was Tate McGowan or Luke Galloway, based on what she saw in the guestbook, unless more people had come in after her and Elijah.

"Sorry!" Elsie exclaimed.

"Sorry," he mumbled. His head was back down, and he scurried into E1 before she could say anything else.

Elsie stood there for a minute, leaning against a post holding up the awning and looking out as the rain drizzled over the parking lot. Her car was the furthest back. She'd stolen the plainest, cheapest looking car, but she knew she'd have to abandon it at some point. Maybe in Tennessee, and then she'd hop on a bus to New York City. There were so many people there, she should blend in easily. She'd become a waitress, a janitor, anything. She wasn't picky.

Lighting crackled in the sky, and thunder boomed across the clouds. The woman with the sunglasses exited the main building and headed for the east wing. She kept walking and walking; evidently, hers was the last room.

Elsie entered the main building. Tasi was restocking the bar, and the man from the lobby— either Tate or Luke—was eating soup at the lounge. Elsie bought a sandwich and a bottle of Coke and settled in the lounge on the other side, her back to the rest of the lobby.

"Do you need the bottle opener for that, Miss Reese?" Tasi asked.

Elsie internally sighed at the use of her name, looked at her Coke, and realized she did. She went up to the bar, and rather than give her the opener, Tasi took her Coke and did it for her. Elsie knew she was being nice, but she'd figured out that Tasi was working all by herself, and if she had to check people in, cook, and restock the bar, the least Elsie could've done was open a bottle by herself. She was suddenly ashamed to not carry a bottle opener.

"I'll be bartending for the next few hours," Tasi said. "Would you like anything to drink, Mr. Galloway?"

Luke it was, then. He got up from the lounge and sat at the bar. "Jack and Coke, please."

"Miss Reese? Do you want anything?"

Tasi waited expectantly, and Luke looked at Elsie but returned his attention to his soup. Elsie was suddenly frozen. No, she didn't want anything to drink. She'd drunk enough the past few years. Yet, was there a social obligation here? Was it rude to say no? 

Elsie realized what she was doing. Her job was always to be pleasing. Be carefree. Talk. Make friends. Please. And even though she was here, not back with them, she was still stuck in that role, wasn't she? It was why she apologized first to the boy when he bumped into her.

"That's a beautiful tree!" she said suddenly.

Tasi blinked. Luke looked around, eventually noticing that there was a Christmas tree in the corner of the lobby even though it was late January. 

"Thanks," Tasi said, but she sounded embarrassed. "I've been meaning to take it down. I keep forgetting."

Elsie felt her cheeks heat up. She'd try to deflect, to bring up a compliment to distract from her inability to answer Tasi's question honestly, and instead, she'd insulted her. 

"Don't take it down!" Elsie urged. "It's pretty. Really ties the room together."

Tasi just looked confused now. "Ah. Okay."

Great. Not only was Elsie rude, but she made no sense, either. She shook her head and returned to her lounge, turning her back to the bar and drowning her sorrows in her food and Coke.

....................................

There was a pool in the back with a shade above it to protect from the sun and weather. Taline sat on the patio with her feet dangling in the water, watching the rain pour around the shade. She liked the backyard of the main building more than she liked the main building itself. There were nice shrubs out here, and the patio and pool were both clean. There was unfinished brickwork creeping along the wall of the building, but she could tell it would look beautiful when done. She wondered if it was Tasi or the maintenance people who did that. Perhaps Tasi herself was the maintenance.

"Who's it gonna be, Taline?"

Taline froze. She turned her head aside. The old man, likely Elijah Reese, since she saw him leave just before she went in and that was the last name in the book before her own, was standing off to the side, looking down at her and smiling.

"I think you've mistaken me for someone else," Taline said, deeply unsettled. "My name ain't Taline."

His brows furrowed. "You may have wrote Tally, but you and I both know that ain't your name."

Taline gripped the edge of the pool, her fingers submerged in the water. He signed in before her. The only way he could know she signed as Tally was if he asked about her to Tasi, which was creepy, or if he went back and looked at the guestbook, which was also creepy.

"Who are you?" Taline asked through gritted teeth.

"Your biggest fan," Elijah said with an eerie grin. "Or, you could say, I'm you. I was you, once. Butchering where I pleased. Going where the road took me."

Taline tried to salvage her identity and feigned shock and fear, cringing away from him. "Are you admitting to being a serial killer?"

"It takes one to know one, don't it?" He took a step forward, the grin stretching wider. "Who's it gonna be, Taline?"

Taline sprang away from the pool and pedaled back. "I don't know what you're talkin' about, and you're scaring me."

"That ain't true. I'm old, frail, and look like it, too. My time is over, so to speak. It devastated me. I found myself obsessing over newspapers, keeping up with the youngin's. Mr. Zodiac? Mr. Manson? Revolutionary. And you, Butcher of Lower East Side."

Taline's hands clenched. That was, according to the world, a one-time murder with an unknown and untraceable killer. Except, for some God-forsaken reason, Elijah Reese knew it was her, and he knew she was a serial killer.

"I do my research, Miss Esma," he continued. "I followed your work, but never in a million years did I think I'd get to follow you...then I saw you. Way back in Mississippi, luring a new friend into a place that you exited, but she never did. I put the pieces together, realized you were the subject I was following the headlines on, and I've been following you ever since."

Taline wanted to throw up. Mississippi was seven months ago. She was being followed for seven fucking months by a decrepit old man who knew her real name and could've ratted her out at any time, and he was here, for, what? To observe? Relieve the glory days?

"You checked in before me," she snapped. "How'd you know I'd be here?"

"I was there when you asked for directions at the Post Office."

Oh. So the stalking was up close and personal, then. 

"Who's it gonna be, Taline?" he asked again. "I'm so excited to see! Tate? Luke? Margaret?" With each name, he took a step closer, backing her up toward the brickwork and tools. "Elsie? Tasi?"

Taline grabbed a brick and slammed it into the side of his head. Elijah's face immediately went slack as he hit the patio. She couldn't even find satisfaction in it because she knew this sicko was probably honored to have been murdered by the killer he so admired.

"God damn it!" Taline muttered. 

It wasn't supposed to be like this. She was going to spend the next few hours planning, picking her victim, killing them, and driving off into the night. She'd come expecting only one guest, possibly two, and if there wasn't a guest, she would've just killed the receptionist. She'd been ecstatic to discover so many names in the book.

Elijah had ruined it all. This was a horrible location for a murder—she'd never be able to hide his body and cover up all the blood without the chance of being seen. It would take too much time, and a lot of effort. Disgusted, Taline threw the bloody brick into the pool. 

She glared at his body, shaking her head. No, she was still going to have her fun. She didn't come to this crappy hotel for nothing.