The mail boxes were labeled wrong. That was the first hint that Lucey should have canceled her reservation at El Hotel de la Trampa. She wasn’t too fond of other aspects of the lobby, either: cheap candy in gaudy foil wrappers sat in a glass fish bowl on the counter, the strange man on the sofa who kept looking at her…

“Can I help you?”

Lucey’s attention shifted to the clerk.

“Oh. Sorry…I was,” Lucey forced a smiled, “I need to check in.”

The man opened the guest book and pushed a pen across the counter. “Reservation?”

“Yes. Harrison. Lucey Harrison.”

He turned to the mailboxes, but looked over his shoulder. “What is it you do, Señora?”

“Oh…I’m not married. Why do you…” Lucey’s eyebrows knit together. “Well, I work with books.”

The clerk’s brown eyes burned into hers. “A teacher?” His hand slid into one of the boxes, fishing for the key.

“No. A librarian. Only an assistant, really.”

His hand stopped, crept out of the box, and plunged into another labeled with a ‘G’. “Si.” He moved to the counter and dropped a heavy brass-colored key. “Your room. Second floor.” With a nod to her bags, he asked, “Would you like some help?”

Lucey took the key and shook her head. Her peripheral vision caught the face of the man on the lobby sofa. Was he watching her?

“?”

“No, I’m fine. Second floor?”

The clerk smiled, showing a mouth of teeth mismatched and yellow.

Maybe next time I won’t travel on the cheap, she thought.

Lucey avoided the elevator and took the stairs. As she opened the door to the second floor hallway, a shadow moved at the end of the hall, perhaps someone entering their room. Goosebumps crawled up her arms. She read the key, simply labeled G, and felt the grooves of the embossed letter.