Worlds Apart

Chapter 13

G H O S T

Sep. 09 2020 10:41 CET

Foyer / Bar / Room #104, The Port Inn

The muffled thuds of Owen's footsteps echoed in the empty lobby. Walking in here always felt like drinking that first sip of his mum's hot chocolate on a winter morning. His shoulders relaxed as he breathed in the hotel's cinnamon scent.

He didn't know why Daisha chose to be so antagonistic to people, provoking them at any given opportunity. But they did uncover a lot of useful info, especially about the police department here: their current status, any chances of help, motivations of some of the officers.

Then again, they could've gotten it another way. There was always another way. 'I should've stopped her,' he thought. But he had never been good at opposing her, had he? Their argument this morning was a once-in-a-blue-moon occurrence. That was probably why he already felt the need to apologise and make up so they could forget it ever happened, even though he didn't regret a word he had said. He never could stand those he cared about being upset with him. There was no way she wasn't, Daisha was not the type to forgive and forget that easily.

Sometimes he wondered why he had ever chosen to leave the Agency to work for her, then the window caught his eye. The mizzle of rain outside, dripping off evergreens through the hazy windows reflecting the fire. He would have never gotten the chance to be here if he hadn't left.

He would have never met Elin either. His chest grew warm at the thought. She was just a hallway away. It had only been a couple of hours since he last saw her, but he already missed her.

Her cold, blank expression from earlier flashed in his mind. The warmth dissipated. Something had been wrong. And he had to help her. Labelling her a suspect and leaving her to handle it alone wasn't going to do that.

But finding out who that man in the photograph was would. Owen swore he was far too familiar. He traipsed over to the desk.

The receptionist seemed to recognise him. He greeted him, his smile uncomfortably wide. "What brings you here alone, sir? Where's your partner?" Owen frowned. He'd never understood people's morbid curiosity when it came to murder and investigations, and frankly, he hoped he never would.

"At the police station." A reply wouldn't hurt, right? He felt bad snubbing him. "Anyway, have you seen this guy around here?" He showed him a picture of the grainy photograph and the pale blurry blotch in the centre. Owen definitely shared Daisha's frustration at the quality. How were they ever supposed to find someone through evidence like this?

Løkken hummed in contemplation. "No, sir. I've never seen him before." Something cold was settling in his gut. Owen described the person they ran into on the staircase, and even quoted the files' statements on the Crescent as best he could, but the receptionist only stared at him blankly and shook his head.

Despair began to set in. "Can I see the security logs?" Owen asked, giving a date and approximate time. He was grasping at straws now, but he remembered seeing a camera at that staircase. He glanced at that corner behind the desk, but it seemed to be just out of sight. Løkken eyed him strangely then beamed at him in that unnerving way of his and agreed.

Owen stepped behind him, praying that he'd find something. It wasn't a hunch, he was sure of it, but if this failed too, he had no proof.

Løkken played the clip, skipping ahead til Daisha and him glitched into frame. His heart skipped a beat. He could see himself on the staircase, jerk backwards. Dai and he turned to look down but there was no one. No one came down the stairs, no one nearly collided into him.