I was soon ensconced in a room where all the wall art and reading material and seemingly all the TV channels, too (although this was impossible) were concerned with fundamentalist Christianity. While I’m all for people’s beliefs, the strangeness of the inn bled into my paranoid fantasy. As I locked the door, Sherri, who owned the place with her husband, Wayne Connell, a farmer, asked if I wanted a glass of wine or some cheese and crackers. “Our own cucumbers with that, and our own dill!”

“That would be nice,” I said, agreeing to the cheese and cucumbers. But no wine, just water, I told her, and she said there was water and orange juice in the mini-fridge. I drew the shades and then the curtains, thanking god almighty, or whoever else might be listening, for letting me be here under this soft quilt in this warm room.

Jep’s phone call wakened me. To my surprise, I’d slept all night.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “I tried to call you a few times last night.” As I swam up from sleep, I recalled the sound of the phone boring into my consciousness several times, and ignoring it.

“I’m good, I’m good,” I told him.

“What time will you be home tonight?”

“I’m not sure yet. It depends on what happens today.”

Jep said, “I don’t think you should drive home too late. Or do you want me to come up there now to go with you to meet Sunday.”

“That’s not necessary,” I assured him. I chatted about the innkeeper’s famous waffles I was anticipating for breakfast and an alluring claw-foot tub with bath salts that I invented on the spot. Eventually I hung up, only to see a deck of text messages.

Stefan had texted: U OK?

Jep had texted: U Still ALIVE?

Julie sent one of her customary long missives: I hope you find whatever you’re looking for. I hope it doesn’t end up costing you too much. You thought I didn’t know that you took off for up there, but I did.

And then there was the one I’d been waiting for: No one hurt you? I saw the police. I was scared!

It seemed impossible that Esme had seen what happened to me last night, but clearly, she had. What kind of crappy game was this? Suddenly, I was furious with the caller.

I’m fine. I was scared too. Are you going to come see me today?

I waited, but she didn’t answer.

I put down the phone, got up, then I did slip into a long bath—no claw-foot, but it was a deep tub with soothing salts—then hopped back into bed for another nap before breakfast, which would be served just after nine.

When I got up the second time, I checked my phone again.

No reply from Esme.