Page 27 of Frosted and Sliced

“Wait, why are we going up?” she demanded in a hiss, a useless question because she could neither see nor hear his reply.

Georgie dutifully trotted behind. What choice did she have? Burke held her hand like a vice, urging her ever upward toward his bedroom. Had he actually made the place into a saferoom? What about her guests? Her glance turned regretfully behind her, worried for their safety. In their drunkenness, they would definitely be in danger, but Burke was relentless in his urging, pulling her faster and faster toward the darkness of his turret. Georgie couldn’t see a thing and stumbled twice. Each time Burke caught her before she could fall, but even then they didn’t stop.

He darted into his room, closing and locking the door behind him, stripping his jacket as he walked toward a desk with a computer. Since Georgie had no idea what he was doing, she took a moment to glance around the room. It was more finished than before, but roughly. The drywall had been started, but no mudding or taping. Dust covered a lot of surfaces, and Georgie wondered how he stood it. A well-used shop vac stood in one corner, along with plastic-covered and wadded tarps. Suddenly she was thankful for her poor hearing, because all the sawing, hammering, and vacuuming must be quite a racket. She hoped it hadn’t bothered her guests, but so far no one had complained. Maybe Burke did it during the afternoon hours when no one was about.

The newest addition to the room was a large bed. And even though it was rumpled and sleep-worn, it looked so comfortable and inviting that Georgie stumbled toward it, suddenly exhausted. She slipped off her shoes and crawled onto the bed, curling into a ball as she turned toward Burke, trying to figure out what he was up to.

His computer monitor began flicking through images. At first Georgette thought he might be watching a movie, but that made no sense, given the circumstances. Alarmed now as recognition began to dawn, she sat up.

“Is that my inn?” she hissed.

She had no idea if he spoke, but he definitely nodded.

She slid off the bed and strode up behind him, agog as she leaned in for closer inspection. “You set up cameras in my inn?”

This time she was close enough to hear him and read his lips. He made certain to turn toward her before he spoke. “Obviously.”

“Burke,” she exclaimed.

“Just a second, I’m trying to find the guy.”

The computer screen flicked through familiar images like an ill-cut movie, the hallways, the kitchen, the grand entrance, the formal living room, the exits, the exterior. Over and over again, rotating between images while Georgie watched her night play out in reverse. There were her guests, stumbling to bed, there was she, tidying the kitchen and prepping the morning’s breakfast, there were the guests, belting karaoke, there was she, herding Brody out the door, there were the guests, laughing as they stumbled toward the entrance of the inn, there was Georgie, putting down her book to greet them.

The day continued to unwind as Burke shifted between frames, cocking his head this way and that, until eventually he sat back with a, “Huh.”

“What?” she asked.

He faced her. “I didn’t see anyone.”

She bristled. “I saw someone, Burke. Saw him move and advance toward me.”

“I believe you,” he said.

She was so ready to do battle that it took her a few seconds to diffuse. “You…do?” He nodded. “Even though you didn’t see him?”

“Yes, Georgie, I do. You’re not hysterical. You wouldn’t make something like this up, even though you’re exhausted.”

“I’m not…” she began, but then she swayed, stumbling a little. Shewasexhausted. She’d had a lot of sleepless nights getting ready for this bridal party, as well as a few upcoming guests. She’d needed to get ahead on her baking and do several massive loads of laundry, along with some extensive deep cleaning. Some of the bigger inns employed maids and cooks and bakers. Georgie had only herself and her driving fear of failure.

Burke put an arm around her and herded her to the bed, tucking her in when she crawled back into the spot she’d made and curled up like a comfort-seeking puppy.

“But,” she began, but Burke pushed her hair away from her face, petting her.

“We’ll talk in the morning,” he said.

We need to talk now,she thought and then, with a yawn, she was out.

In the morning, Georgette woke with a sense of urgency she couldn’t explain or identify. Then it all tumbled in at once.An intruder. Burke. The guests. Burke’s bedroom. Morning. Breakfast. Late. Fail.

The thoughts slammed into her so she popped up in Burke’s bed like a hot toaster pastry, inhaling and expelling words in one panicked rush. “Oh, no, I overslept and missed breakfast.” She attempted to jump out of the bed, realized she was locked in,and would have fallen if Burke hadn’t caught her upper half and rearranged her.

The panic and adrenaline were too raw, however, and she couldn’t make her mind or body settle. What was going on? Had Burke locked her to his bed? Was he actually psychotic? Her handy brain reminded her that he’d set up cameras in her inn. She wrenched away from him and flattened against the bed, avoiding his touch.

He wasn’t reaching to touch her, however, he held up one hand to soothe her while the other reached down to unsnarl her feet where they’d become tangled in the sheets.

Oh,she thought, a tiny amount of relief beginning to eke in and calm her overheated brain. At least she wasn’t being held prisoner up here, in his secluded turret. That was one reassurance. Her panic meter pinged again before she could calm all the way.Breakfast!

She attempted to spring up again. Once again Burke held up a hand like a stop sign, palm out.

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