"She went to the last room on the left on the second floor, but it's likely to be locked. And he's not likely to let her in." The innkeeper crossed his arms. "But if something happens, I didn't tell you anything, okay?"
"Yeah, okay," Conner said. He gave the innkeeper a shove just to release some of the pent-up anger, then turned and headed for the staircase.
"Wait, wait, wait," said the innkeeper, and Conner turned back around.
Hands fumbling for a key, the innkeeper began to search in his key drawer. "Maybe it'd be best if you did go into the room. Maybe you could kill him or something."
"You're wrong," said Conner. "I'm not the killing type. Not even a criminal. But, if I remember right, he is."
The innkeeper - Conner still couldn't recall his name - looked puzzled. "But-but he told me he hadn't killed anyone, nor would he ever kill anyone!"
Conner hesitated before telling the innkeeper the truth. "He did kill someone. He just...doesn't know it."
The innkeeper's jaw dropped, but Conner said nothing more. Already, he was envisioning all kinds of problems that could result from the admittance. Meeting the innkeeper's eyes, Conner commanded, "Now, you won't be telling a soul this. Not even him!"
The innkeeper nodded, frightened and shrinking back.
Conner turned toward the staircase, but his mind was busy recalling images from that horrible event.
No, he hadn't forgotten the fatal incident, years ago...