Page 4 of Waiting in Wyoming

Now, she was going to go to bed and try to sleep. Somehow. She slipped outside behind the family kitchen, trash in hand, and tossed it into the inn’s main dumpster.

That was when she heard it.

Meyra froze. Listened again.

There was something outside. She’d heard something. She was sure of it. Something that shouldn’t be there. It was only nine—extremely early for the rest of the world, but Meyra was used to getting up at four-thirty each morning to head either to the inn’s dining room downstairs, or the diner several blocks away.

There was something outside. Something that shouldn’t be there.

But this didn’t sound right. She should have already gone to bed, but she’d been so consumed with thoughts of that Barrattman she’d ended up cleaning the kitchen until it was spotless instead.

Everyone’s schedule was posted on the refrigerator. Meyra had a copy on her phone. Marin kept everyone up to date with where the family was going to be at all times. Marin was really organized like that. Marin was almost weirdly fanatical about knowing exactly where everyone was going to be at all times. No matter what. Meyra checked the schedule quickly.

Marin was still at the diner. Marin took Tuesday through Saturday nights, at the diner now, before she’d come back and finish the accounts and audits for the inn after midnight.

Dusty was at her new home now, probably cuddling with her fiancé, Ben. Devaney, Dylan, Dorie, and Dahlia were still at the diner, getting ready to close up soon. Dixie was across the road, watching Dr. Lowell’s kids while he’d been called into an emergency.

If something was going on with the inn, it would just be Darcey to deal with it tonight.

Meyra had never been afraid living in the inn before.

Until lately.

She reminded herself that she was as safe at the inn as she could ever be anywhere else. Nowhere was truly safe, after all.

Miranda said people really weren’t safeanywhere.And they always had to be careful—especially young women. Miranda was the eldest of the Talley girls; she tended to hover over them all.

Darcey and Marin had reworked the budget to afford better security cameras everywhere, too.

If something was going on outside, it was on camera. She’d just call James, the man who was the night-time security guard, and have him check the monitors.

She knew what to do. She knew the policies and procedures.

She’d grown up in this inn, been there since before she could remember. So why did she feel like something was sowrongnow? She had felt that way all night. Like things were going to change or something.

Meyra went back inside quickly, then down the other hallway. The rear exit was closer to where she thought she’d heard the sound. The one that came out behind their private stairs. There was a patio there. She pushed open the door and stepped out onto the small concrete steps. And listened.

The sound came again. Stronger this time.

She’d definitely heard it out in the garden.

It could be Chloe, her sister Miranda’s dog. Chloe was really old, and though she still moved around a bit, it wasn’t as easy as it used to be. She usually spent her time in the back garden or with Dusty. Dusty had had the only first-floor suite forever—but Dorie had it now. Dusty lived across the street with Ben, but they had all decided Chloe would be better off staying at the inn at her age. Or it could be her grandmother. Grandma had that apartment on the first-floor garden level.

Fear for her grandmother was strong, too.

She’d check what the sound was outside. Then she’d go by her grandmother’s. Meyra’s grandmother was a night owl. She’d still be up. Miranda had taken Bentley to a movie at the vintage movie theater nearby tonight. She would check again. And then Meyra would go back to her own suite and stay there. She’d probably even lock her doors, too.

Until her sister or her cousins were in the family wing, anyway. She didn’tfeelthings like Marin said Marin did, but tonight…

She was revisiting that idea fast. Something just feltwrongtonight.

The door to the back patio of the inn was always left unlocked. Guests came in at all hours of the evening—they were on the main route to Yellowstone way up at the top of the state. They got a fair amount of tourists, but not atthistime of year.

The lights were dim. The chairs in the lobby were all deserted.

She shivered again.

Every instinct she had said something was going on. Somethingbad.Something that she probably had no business out here searching for, actually.