Those Weekends In New England

Chapter Sixteen

Mess up one single note, and the entire song is in danger.

Denny paced back and forth frantically. He'd come out of the shower to find an empty bed, an empty room, an empty suite. No Hannah anywhere. He looked up and down the halls; she was nowhere to be found. He called Al.

"Where is she? Has she come to you?"

"Wha-what? Denny, what's wrong?" Al could be heard yawning. "I assume you mean Hannah, and no, she's not here."

"She was with me, Al. In my room."

"I know. I let her in. She was in the lobby when I got back from the show. I brought her up, gave her a drink, told her to wait for you. She was really torn up about something."

"Shit!" Denny picked up the nearest available object from the desk, a silver letter opener, and threw it across the room. It nicked an expensive crystal vase on an end table, causing it to totter before it fell and shattered into tiny shards.

"Denny, slow down. I'll be right there."

Less than five minutes passed before Al was banging at the door. Denny let him in, still wrapped in nothing but his bath towel.

"Where is she? Where the hell did she go? Why did I take a shower? I should've stayed with her, I knew she was in bad shape, I knew—"

"Hold on. You're driving yourself crazy and don't know anything's wrong yet. Maybe she went to get some air. How long have you been out of the bathroom?"

"Ten, fifteen minutes. I didn't count."

"Have you called the desk?"

Denny looked at him, his eyes blank.

"I guess not." Al picked up the phone. "Hello, yes, this is Al Swedson. Do you remember the lady who asked for me earlier this evening? You do? She and I went upstairs together. Right. Have you seen her since? No, well then ... oh, okay, I'll hold a second."

He put his hand over the receiver and turned to Denny. "There are two people on the desk. Let them.... Yes?" he returned to the phone, "you think she left? Someone noticed an unidentified lady going out the door. Alone. Thanks." He started to put the phone down.

"Oh, just a minute, please, before you hang up." He caught the clerk as she was ready to disconnect. "If you see her again, her name is Hannah Jergen, let us know immediately. Mr. Lorenzo and I are waiting for her return."

Al ran a hand through his silvering hair. "She did leave. Why, Denny? Did you argue?"

Denny was on the sofa with his face in his hands. He looked up and could feel the anger, creeping fear and insanity overtaking him. Things were once again going all wrong. He'd let himself care for someone else, after he'd decided love was a stupid luxury for other people, and he had ruined everything. Again. If he'd left Hannah alone when they first met, this wouldn't be happening. She wouldn't be out there, by herself, or maybe....

"No!" He jumped from his seat and went to the window, shoving the curtains aside. "No," he said again, quieter, "we didn't argue. We were gonna have a brainstorming session to figure out how to stop him."

"I'll get some stage personnel to start searching. We have a bit of daylight now, and Bradley and Vernon—"

"No. Not Vernon."

Al walked over to Denny and searched his face. "Why?"

"I ... I'm not sure, Al. I think this has something to do with Elaine."

"Hell, of course it does."

"That's not what I mean. With everything weird happening lately, and the crap Elaine has pulled, well, Vernon is her brother, and I don't feel as if I can trust him. I don't know that I suspect him of anything, but I can't take that chance."