We had never been alone in a place like this before.
But after my father died, Richard tried many times to get me out of the house because he knew how isolated I was.
So I agreed.
The hotel was about an hour from the city.
It was old but elegant, with a large garden, an outdoor pool and long, quiet corridors.
At first everything seemed normal.
We sat by the pool, ate lunch and talked about work.
Suddenly Richard fell silent.
I noticed that he was constantly looking at his watch.
“Are you waiting for someone?” I asked.
“No,” he replied too quickly.
A few minutes later, he approached me. So close that I instinctively turned my head toward him.
Then he said quietly:
“After the pool, come to my room.”
I froze it.
“Why?”
Richard looked around.
“I can’t explain it here.”
“What’s going on?”
He simply repeated:
“Seven o’clock. Room 214.”
And he left.
From that moment on I couldn’t relax anymore.
