I shook my head. Crew and West followed suit.
“Honestly, I don’t remember a lot about that night except Reagan.”
West shot me a shit-eating grin. “You gonna hit that again?”
“Fuck you. Her sister is missing, and she’s not staying.”
“I didn’t hear the word ‘no’ anywhere in there,” Crew supplied with a smirk.
I smacked him upside the head, and he, West, and Lane devolved into a fit of laughter.
Their comments forced me to confront the idea, though. Would I fuck Reagan again?
The answer was a resounding yes.
Although, I didn’t love the term in reference to her. That night had been a hell of a lot more than two strangers fooling around, getting off, and going their separate ways. The entire time, it seemed as though some greater force had been at work, guiding us to one another.
And I had to admit, the idea that the same force had brought us back together now had me…hopeful.
Hopeful for a future I’d never dared to allow myself to envision before.
ten
. . .
REAGAN
The lone motelin Dusk Valley hadn’t gotten any better in the years since we’d last stayed here. In fact, as I pulled up after leaving the sheriff’s department, I thought it looked a lot worse.
I didn’t think calling ahead and booking a room was necessary, not when I had other ideas about securing lodging.
Somewhere in the two wings that jutted out from the main reception area, there was a room with my sister’s things in it.
I needed to get in there before the sheriff’s department did. Since Lane hadn’t mentioned anything about it during either of our interviews, I assumed it wasn’t currently high on his list of priorities. But I knew that would soon change, when he had time to process everything that had happened today and made a plan for moving forward with the investigation.
The portly man behind the check-in counter’s eyes lit in recognition as I approached, and I was grateful that I wore the exact same face as my sister.
Seems this will be easier than I thought.
“Miss Lindsey,” the man said, standing and smoothing ahand over the wisps of hair covering the top of his shiny, bald head. “Pleasure to see you again. What can I do for you?”
Smiling sweetly and laying on the charm, I said, “I seem to have misplaced my key. Is there any way I could get a new one?”
His tone was as saccharine as mine when he said, “That’ll be a fifty-dollar replacement fee.”
I nearly choked. Fifty dollars to replace a key at this shithole? When I could go to the nearest hardware store and have a new one made for less than ten? When anyone could come by and break down the door with a well-placed kick, myself included?
“Fine,” I gritted out through my smile. “Can you put it on the card on file?”
Lainey and I shared a credit card for business expenses, and I added that to my mental list of leads to run down, to see if she’d used it for anything that might explain her whereabouts.
He handed me the new key, the tag hanging from it displaying the room number.
Thanking him, I returned to my rental car and moved it to the space directly in front of door number nine, collected my things from the back, and went inside.
The room was about what you’d expect from a roach motel: thin, threadbare comforter on a bed topped with flat pillows. Round table in the corner, the laminate on top peeling, the fabric of the two chairs faded and pilled. At the far end of the room was a large mirror over a counter with a sink in the center. The bathroom sat in the back right corner.
I didn’t give myself the chance to get lost in examining my sister’s belongings yet, which were strewn all around the room like she’d been here moments ago and had every intention of returning.
