“I just hope she comes around before he breaks her completely.”
The killer placed money on the table, enough for the bill and a careful tip.Then the killer took a small notebook from an inner pocket and opened it under the table.
Only one word went on the page.
Bradley.
The pen stopped.
After a moment, another word followed.
Sheila.
The notebook closed.
Outside, evening had deepened.The first moths struck the window and fell away, drawn back each time by the light inside.
The killer stood, smoothed the front of their jacket, and left the cold waffle untouched.
Perhaps there was something to be done about Bradley.
Perhaps Sheila needed protecting like all the rest.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
By the time Selena pulled into the Wilson Motel, night had fallen, but the case still burned in her mind.According to her contacts in Lexington, Marlene was coming back to town in the morning.Then Selena would confront her about the lie.
The motel lot was half full, headlights turned off, curtains drawn across most of the rooms.The red vacancy sign buzzed above the office, one side blinking weaker than the other.
Selena sat with both hands on the wheel after killing the engine.
Her shoulders ached.Her eyes felt gritty.The day had stretched too long, from Ray Parkinson’s evasions to Amanda Lee’s revelation, and still Connor had not properly checked in.A few short words over the phone did not count.Neither did vanishing when two men he knew had been murdered.
“Where the hell are you?”she muttered.She had wanted to track his GPS, but Arnold told her Connor had sent him a message to leave him be for the day.That did not make Selena feel any better.
When Selena finally saw him, assuming she did not shoot him first, she was going to go through him.Disappearing was not what they needed.Nor what the victims’ families required.
A warm breeze crossed the lot when she stepped out.The car ticked behind her as she locked it.Her room sat four doors down from the office, under a strip of weak yellow porch light that drew moths to the siding.She walked toward it with her bag over one shoulder and the room key already in her hand.
As she reached the door, a voice called from nearby.
“Hey, Selena.”
Eric Wilson came from the office carrying a plastic caddy loaded with sprays, cloths, rubber gloves, paper towels, and a bottle of bleach.A resigned grin sat on his face.
“How’s the case going?”he asked.
“Fine,” Selena lied.
Eric looked at the cleaning supplies in his hand, then back at her.“That kind of fine, huh?”
“What’s with all that?”
“Let’s just say one of the guests left a present in the bedroom and…”
Selena raised a hand.“Too much information.”
“At least you don’t have to clean it up.”
