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Detective McComas led Dale through a door labeled Associates Only and into a parallel dimension. Dale had grown accustomed to the Willow Tree Inn’s immaculate décor and pristine facilities, but the staff areas looked a whole lot more like any beaten-up office building. The off-white drywall walls had ugly scuff marks where carts had veered off course. The comforting aromas of old coffee, stale popcorn, and inadequate air conditioning told Dale this was a space for people who worked behind the scenes and did the labor that held everything together.
People like Dale.
The detective was not meant for people like Dale. Dale couldn’t help an itching between his shoulder blades where he imagined McComas’ gaze drilling into his heart.
A hand-printed sign taped to the next door said RESERVED
