Page 6 of Ethan & Grace

Forty minutes later, my dad double-parked in front of the hotel, setting off a chorus of car horns. I grabbed my bag and opened the door.

“Thanks for driving me. I’ll take the Tube back later.”

“If you want to,” he said, his tone concerned and his smile strained.

I climbed out, zipping up my jacket to ward off the cold wind, and headed straight for The Darlington. The building never failed to impress. London was a mix of old and new, modern and historic. Glass skyscrapers were just as much a part of the skyline as massive stone walls and grand old buildings. With its cream limestone facade, sweeping arches, and dainty wrought-iron balconies, The Darlington fell somewhere in between.

Rather than use the hotel’s main entrance, I headed for the back door, which was used by staff and celebrities who wanted to sneak in unnoticed. Staring straight ahead, I tried to block out the street where Amy had been killed. Even so, the hairs on the nape of my neck stood on end.

I fished out my key card from my bag as I walked, so I would be ready to scan it as quickly as possible when I reached the entrance. But with my trembling hands, it took three attempts before the reader flashed green and the lock clicked open. I hurried inside and pulled the door shut behind me, as if to create a barrier between myself and the place where the accident had happened. I’d expected coming back wouldn’t be easy, but even so, I was surprised by how tight my chest suddenly felt. Memories of that night flooded back. After leaving Kate and Henry to their happily ever after, I’d waited impatiently for Amy in the hotel foyer. Thanks to the chatter, laughter, and music coming from the ballroom, I’d barely noticed the brief wail of the sirens.

I’d been messaging Rose when a commotion broke out around me. The band kept playing, but the mood changed. Nervous glances were exchanged, and agitated whispers swept the foyer. Rakesh pushed past me in his suit, panic written across his face, with Henry hot on his heels. I’d stepped out in front of them, demanding to know what was happening. But all they’d been able to tell me was that there’d been an accident near the hotel. A bad feeling instantly took hold. I messaged Amy, but she didn’t message back. I tried to call her, but she didn’t pick up. I continued to wait for her, but she didn’t come.

When Henry finally approached me, his eyes filled with sorrow and pain etched across his features, I knew right away that Amy was dead. I didn’t cry just then. I just stood there, frozen, questions swirling around my head. It was as if my mind had gone into overdrive to keep a tidal wave of emotions at bay. Had Amy been killed instantly? If not, what had those last seconds felt like for her? Had she been in pain? Had she known she would die? Had she been afraid? Or had her consciousness slipped away before her body had given up?

I squeezed my eyes shut, shutting out the questions that still haunted me—questions I would never have the answers to. But there was one question I could answer: Who killed Amy? This was why I was here: to find out who had hit Amy and left her to die. I had to focus on that.

I squared my shoulders and took a deep breath, inhaling The Darlington’s scent of woodsmoke, antique oak, and the sweetly fragranced flower arrangements adorning every corner. Determined, I headed down the familiar corridors to Giulia’s office. She was the head of housekeeping and had asked me to stop by.

Even behind the scenes, The Darlington was immaculate. Not a speck of lint or a single crumb marked the parquet, and no dust motes danced in the glow of the wall lights. Heavy wooden doors and old photographs of the hotel in opulent gilt frames lined both sides of the corridor.

My phone buzzed with a new message.

Kate:

Good luck today. You’ve got this!

Me:

Thanks!

Are you at the hotel?

Kate and I had met at The Darlington just over six months ago. She was also working as a chambermaid at the time, but in January, she’d started a new job with Hope Harbour, an organisation supporting homeless people in the UK. She was still at The Darlington all the time, though, because her boyfriend Henry was the CEO of the hotel. Apart from my parents and Jason, Rose and Kate were the only people I’d been in contact with over the past couple months. They had both been there for me after Amy’s death, and without them, I would be doing much worse today.

Kate:

No, I slept at mine tonight.

But I can come by before work, if you want?

Me:

Don’t be silly. It’d be really out of your way. I’ll manage. Anyway, Rose is here.

Kate:

OK, but call me if you need me!

Me:

I will. I promise.

I put my phone away when I reached Giulia’s office. The door was ajar, a silent invitation. Still, I knocked on the frame to announce myself before pushing it open. Giulia looked up from her laptop.

I closed the door behind me. “Hello, Giulia.”

“Grace, it’s so good to see you!” She pushed the glasses hanging on a chain around her neck up into her flowing black hair and stood to hug me. I wasn’t tall, but even in comparison to me, Giulia was tiny. And yet she had the strength of a construction worker. Her hug knocked the air out of me. “How are you?”