Page 25 of A Christmas to Die For
"Shh!" Chet silences us with a sharp wave of his hand as he kicks the door fully open and fumbles for a light switch.
We all breathe a collective sigh of relief when the room illuminates in a warm yellow glow. At least he won't have to search in pitch-black darkness.
The three of us step back, letting him scour the room, silently praying we don't hear a scream or a sudden scuffle.
Before I can even conjure up more nightmares—like Albert passed out, naked on our bed, or a message written in blood on the walls—Chet yells, "All clear."
We step into the room, and it's anything but "all clear."
"My stuff!" I shout, rushing toward my luggage, where my belongings are thrown haphazardly around the room.
It's obvious now—no one left the door unlocked. Someone definitely broke in.
"My earrings are gone!" I run my trembling hands through my hair, cursing under my breath.
"My laptop's gone." Phoebe crouches by the bed, searching underneath it, clearly hoping it somehow slipped out of sight.
"We've been robbed!" I squeak out, realizing all the jewelry I brought with me has disappeared.
"What else is missing?" Chet asks, trying to help by picking up the mess.
Clothes are scattered everywhere. I can't even tell which items belong to whom. Our three pieces of luggage have been emptied and tossed around the room as if someone was searching for something specific.
"My fucking laptop isgone!" Phoebe repeats, voice rising in frustration.
"All my jewelry is gone," I add, not trying to compare losses, but… "Those diamond earrings were six thousand dollars. And my mom's sapphire studs are gone too. I'm sure you backed up everything to the cloud, but I'll never get those heirlooms back."
"Can everyone just calm down?" Chet requests.
"Don't ever tell a woman to calm down!" I snap, pointing my finger near his face. "What are you going to do about this?"
"It was probably Albert," Phoebe suggests. "There's no sign of forced entry. They had to have had a key."
"Why would Albert do something like this?" Chet asks before muttering under his breath, "You women are nuts."
"Because Albert is your dad." Phoebe's accusation strikes me like a bolt of lightning. "Everyone in town knows who he is. And you—someone who's lived here your whole life, someone who even admitted to taking over this motel for your parents—youdon't know who the wandering man suffering from dementia is?"
Chet looks guilty, and I pick up on her realization.
"It makes sense! He probably knows where all the master keys are. But what is he looking for?"
"Nothing! My dad wouldn't do something like this." Chet's face crumples, and he looks like he's about to cry. "He's confused, yes, I'll admit that. But he wouldn't break in."
"Well, let's check if the other rooms are disrupted or if we were the only ones targeted," Mara suggests.
It's then that I notice something, and I'm rather proud of the discovery. "You know what I realized? For the entire time we've been here, no one has come or gone from any of the other cabins."
"Holy shit, Sabrina, you're right." Mara covers her mouth with her hand. "Why haven't we seen any other guests? Kids running around, causing chaos?"
"There aren't even footprints leading anywhere but our room," I shout from outside. "What the fuck is going on, Chet?"
"When I booked this trip," I begin, "you said there was only one room left. But here we are, and it's a ghost town. What are you hiding?"
Chet's sheepish expression doesn't reveal much, but Phoebe doesn't let the silence drag.
"Tell us or we're calling the police."
"Okay, okay, please don't do that. I lied on the phone. This motel hasn't had any business for months. No one wants to come here. And when I got my first reservation in what felt like forever, I didn't want to just admit you'll be the only guests here. I couldn't turn away the money we desperately needed."
