“I took this off the door of Room 201,” she says. “It’s time to open the room up again to guests. Let the past be the past.” I take the sign from her, but it drops from my fingers and flutters to the floor, the letters of “DO NOT DISTURB” staring up at me, looming before my eyes. I lean forward as my head spins. I get that cramping sensation one more time. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Greta killed a woman. I can’t just pretend I didn’t hear this. I have to call the police. I have to tell them what I know.
