Kyla was too busy locking the back door. “See what?”
“Never mind.”
Turning her attention to the parking lot, she pointed out something so obvious Ethan had missed it entirely. “The lights are weaker than they were a second ago. The circle’s getting smaller.”
“Then let’s get busy.”
Ryan Phan hadn’t left much of a footprint in his room. There wasn’t a single wrinkle in the coverlet. The pillows looked undisturbed. Amotorcycle helmet rested on the floor near the bed, next to a pair of leather saddlebags. Ethan flipped on the nightstand’s lamp, toed the saddlebags. He said, “I think Ryan was telling the truth before he died. He probably did sleep here, on the floor. These bags are situated just right for it.”
Kyla said, “Out of sight of the window. Whoever he was, he knew how to keep a low profile.”
The saddlebags were practically empty. One held a fistful of Mexican pesos, a large band of American cash, and a bag of Fritos with Spanish on the back.
The other saddlebag held an American passport, but it didn’t belong to Ryan Phan. An Asian man who vaguely resembled him stared back at Ethan from the photograph inside. The name on the passport was “Trent Ly.”
Ethan showed this to Kyla. “Do we think Ryan Phan’s name was actually Trent Ly?”
“Hardly. He must have gotten hold of the guy’s passport somehow.”
“Is that hard to do?”
Kyla took the passport, flipped to the stamps in the back. “There’s a whole network of documentation floating around if you know who to ask.”
Ethan considered this. “You worked at the steakhouse in Fort Stockton, right? You served dinner to Frank O’Shea and his whole crew. Had you ever heard of this Ryan guy?”
“No,” Kyla said. “But I’ve only lived around here for six months. The way Ryan was talking to Stanley, it sounded like they had ancient history.”
“Ryan said he was Penelope’s stepfather. Or he would have been, if he’d been able to marry Penelope’s mother. What did that mean? And could it have anything to do with Sarah Powers?”
“I know that Penelope’s mom died in a burglary a few years back. At least, it went down as a burglary, but no one can think of anyone stupid enough to rob Frank’s goddaughter. I guess the results were about the same. Some goons broke into the house and killed Penelope’s mom and her sister and shot Penelope in her sleep. It’skind of a legend around town. A miracle, you know, that the girl survived. She’s always been a little weird since.”
“God,” Ethan said. “That explains the scar on her forehead.”
“Exactly. But does it have anything to do with Sarah Powers?” Kyla shrugged. “Sarah certainly seemed connected to everyone else around here. She and Penelope met at dinner one time, I remember that, but it was just for a few minutes while Penelope dropped by to see Stanley. But maybe Sarah and Penelope met other times. Maybe they connected somewhere else.”
Ethan followed Kyla to room 3’s bathroom. A little pyramid of rolled towels rested on the vanity, an untouched bar of soap.
Something nagged at Ethan. “So Stanley really was having a lot of dinners with Sarah Powers?”
Kyla glanced at him. “I wasn’t lying. She’d been coming at least once a week.”
“Since when?”
“About six weeks, I guess.”
Ethan opened his mouth, hesitated.
Hunter had turned up in Ellersby six weeks ago.
“Did these dinners seem… romantic?” Ethan finally said. “Back in the office, Ryan made it sound like Stanley was in love with Sarah.”
“I’ve served dinner to a lot of lovebirds. I’m inclined to believe Stanley’s version of the story.”
“That Sarah Powers was working for the outfit?”
“Yes. But doing what, I have no idea.”
Ethan and Kyla stepped out of the bathroom. Ethan heaved up the room’s mattress, stripped the sheets, found nothing concealed underneath. Studying the dresser, the pattern of the carpet, the carving of the furniture, Ethan was struck again with just how outdated everything at the motel was, and yet how it was in such good condition.
