“And then what do you think?”
“About what?”
“About where we are with the story. Maybe it’s time to close up shop in that location and handle any additional reporting from the city.”
“Close up shop?”He’d caught me totally by surprise. “Dodson, this doesn’t seem like the right moment to do that. What I was about to tell you is that the killer called me again last night.”
I recapped the exchange, stressing that it had to be kept quiet for now.
“That’s really disturbing. I hate the fact that he’s got eyes on you.”
“The sheriff has a car watching my hotel.”
“If you were back in the city, we wouldn’t have to worry about your safety. And after all, the guy has your number. He can still make contact.”
“But there’s still a lot cooking here.”
“Do you have reason to believe the cops are close to an arrest?”
“No, but they’re clearly still waiting for forensic test results.Alice Hatfield’s autopsy is happening today, and something may turn up from that.... Is it a money issue?”
“It’s partly a money issue, because my budget is tight. We’re a new operation, as you know. But the bigger factor is the case itself. It’s in limbo, wouldn’t you say? They may never even catch this guy.”
Despite the fact that I’d been semi-expecting this conversation, and that Dodson’s suggestion made sense on one level, I found myself incredibly irritated. I had to warn myself not to sound bitchy.
“But theymightcatch him,” I said. “And he may be prepared to kill again.”
“Right on both counts. And if they arrest this guy, or another woman ends up dead, we’ll send you right back up there. In the meantime, you can still interview people by phone and post updates every day, which we’ll pay you for. There just doesn’t seem to be a need for you to be in Lake George at the moment.”
I could certainly stay in touch with the locals by phone. I had a pipeline to Killian, which I’d be able to take advantage of from Manhattan. But if I was going to find Alice’s killer, I needed to behere. Unfortunately, that argument wouldn’t carry much weight with Dodson. In his eyes I was a reporter, not a member of the sheriff’s department.
“Can we see what the rest of the day brings and decide later?” I asked, bargaining for more time, as Killian had done with me last night.
“Okay, sure, why not? Let’s speak around seven, after I have your post for the day.”
I tossed the phone on the bed. As frustrated as I felt, I had to admit that the case did seem to have stalled—at least on my end. Every lead I was currently following was vague, and in some instances dubious, amounting to nothing but a list ofmaybes. Maybe Page had begun dabbling in the drug trade, exposing Amy and herself to a serial killer; maybe Shannon had made contact with a few dealers, hoping to find the person responsible for her cousin’s death, and had inadvertently put herself in contact with that same killer; maybe a new driver at Baker Beverage had become obsessed with Shannon and later abducted her; maybe the killer was someone from the parish, even the local deacon himself, who’d targeted Shannon because she was Catholic, blond, and beautiful; maybe the creepy motel owner did it.
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
Still, I had no intention of hitting the road with Alice’s killer still at large. I would pay room and board myself if it came down to it.
I ordered more food for a late lunch and returned to the Internet search. Rather than hunting any farther afield this time, I reviewed the missing-persons cases I’d found earlier, but once again decided that they didn’t seem relevant. By the time I was due to dress for the video, I was almost certain that Alice must have abandoned her research about missing women and moved on to a new area of inquiry—and it was there that she found her clue.
Without her computer, though, it was impossible to have even a hint of her discovery.
Sorting through a ball of limp, already worn clothes, Imanaged to find another top that looked video-worthy, as long as the camera didn’t pick up a dried marinara stain. I threw it on with a pair of jeans and did the best job I could with my hair and makeup, which amounted to nothing more than turning a sow’s ear into a slightlyperkiersow’s ear.
Keith was already in the lobby, studying his phone, when I disembarked from the elevator. I told him about the call last night, convinced I could trust him to keep it confidential, and my fear that the killer might be watching me. He suggested pulling his vehicle up to the back of the hotel and having me jump in there. The back lot was empty and as we drove away, I twisted in my seat, surveying the area behind us. We had the side street to ourselves.
“So where do you want to shoot this one?” I asked.
“Dodson wants us to set up in front of Alice Hatfield’s house.”
I flinched at the prospect of returning there.
“Keith, we can’t trespass,” I told him. “That would be out of line.”
“I don’t mean on her property. I checked the place out earlier today and there’s a spot on the road right before you turn into her driveway. We wouldn’t be trespassing, and yet you can still see the house from there.”
