Chapter 10
ten
. . .
REAGAN
The lone motel in 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 a hand 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.
Certainly, that had been the case. She couldn’t have known what would happen to her—whatever that was.
I was surprised to find her tent propped up in the corner of the room, though. When packed up, it was about two feet long and narrow enough to tuck into the side of her suitcase. That meant the one they’d found in that clearing with the dead girl hadn’t belonged to Lainey.
For the first time, I wondered how the girl had ended up with Lainey’s ID. Had Lainey lost it? Had it been stolen?
I dropped my own things on the bed, rifled through for some headache medicine, and washed the pills down with the bottle of water I’d picked up at the airport earlier.
Getting behind the wheel of my rental, a thought occurred to me.
Lainey had a rental car.
Racing back into the room, I rifled through her backpack, half of its contents spewed atop the little stand under the TV.
Lainey rarely carried a purse, content to wear bottoms or dresses with pockets that fit her wallet and lip gloss.
With a cry of triumph, I came up with a receipt from the airport rental car place.
Stepping back onto the curb outside the room, I scanned the lot, not seeing any sign of the vehicle described in the paperwork.
Then I called the sheriff.
“Sheriff Lawless,” he answered, sounding exhausted.
That made two of us.
“Lane, it’s Reagan.”
“Hey, Reagan. What can I do for you?”
“She had a rental car.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Lainey had a rental car that she picked up at the airport. A black 2025 Toyota Highlander.”
“You got a plate?”
I read off the numbers.
“This is great, Reagan. Thank you. We’ll run this down, and I’ll see you in the morning.”
Satisfied I’d accomplished something to help bring Lainey home, my stomach emitted an insistent growl, gnawing at itself. A quick Google search alerted me to a few places in the area that provided takeout—Mozzy’s Pizza Parlor and the diner.
A few greasy slices of pizza would go a long way to restoring some of my energy, so I returned to my car and headed out. I could’ve walked but, given the fact that my sister had gone missing in this town, I wasn’t taking any chances with my own safety.
The main street was brightly lit, both by lampposts and signs and interior lights of the businesses still open at this time of night.
When I pushed through the door of Mozzy’s, the kid behind the counter looked up and grinned. “Lainey! Back for more? I told you that blueberry pizza would change your life.”
“Oh…” Fuck. Tears pricked my eyes. I missed my sister like I’d miss a limb, and this kid mistaking me for her pricked a nerve. “I’m not Lainey. I’m her sister, Reagan.”
The guy raised a brow. “Are you fucking with me?”
I chuckled, some of the tightness in my chest easing. “No. We’re twins.”
“Damn, that’s freaky,” he said, though it sounded like a compliment coupled with his boyish grin. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Reagan. What can I get for ya?”
“Not gonna lie, that blueberry pizza sounds intriguing,” I chuckled. “I’d love some cheese sticks as well.”
“Perfect,” he said as he punched it into the system. “I’ll get that started for you.”
“So you met my sister?” I asked as nonchalantly as I could while he ran my card.
“Yeah, she’s great. Came in here three nights in a row. Told me she was a photographer and owned a business with her sister. Wait.” He paused, eyes brightening as realization struck. “You’re the sister.”
“Sure am. And look…” I leaned closer, dropping my voice so only we could hear. “I don’t want to raise any alarms, but Lainey is why I’m here. She’s kind of MIA, and I need to track her down.” His eyes widened. “Do you remember the last time you saw her?”
“Monday night,” he said quickly, a flush creeping into his cheeks. He had to be in his early twenties, several years younger than my and Lainey’s thirty years. “Sorry. We don’t get a lot of fresh faces around here, and definitely not ones that look like you guys.”
I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile. The compliment was flattering, if poorly timed. “Did you guys chat or anything?”
“Yeah, we talked a bit while she waited for her food. She told me why she was in town, where she was from. That’s pretty much it. She said she’d be back on Tuesday to tell me how she liked the blueberry pizza, but I didn’t see her again. She’s missing?”
I nodded. “I last heard from her on Tuesday.”
“Damn, I’m sorry,” he said. Someone called his name—Trevor—from the back, and he gave me a sheepish smile. “Sorry, duty calls.”
“No problem, and thanks,” I said, mind already going a thousand miles a minute away from the current conversation.
I took a seat on the wooden bench affixed to the wall off to the side, pulled out my phone, and opened a new Note.
Lainey likely last seen at the Swallow Tuesday night, I tapped out.
I knew that much for a fact, seeing as how she told me she wanted to check the place out “for old time’s sake.”
Well, and that was the last place she’d been active on Find My Friends. Shortly after she sent her final text, she went dark, disappearing completely from view. I’d hoped her phone had merely died, but obviously, that wasn’t the case.
My fingers flew across the keyboard as I wrote down everything I knew so far, including when she’d arrived in Dusk Valley nearly two weeks ago—coming out way earlier than necessary to do some hiking so she could come home right after the sessions—the names of our clients, and the date and time the two separate shoots were set to begin.
I wasn’t an investigator by any means, but I owed Lane everything I knew that could help.
“Reagan?” a voice said softly, jarring me from my task. I looked up to find Trevor standing over me, two pizza boxes stacked in his hands. “You’re all set.”
“Thanks,” I said, jumping to my feet and accepting my order.
He nodded. “And I hope you find Lainey.”
“Me too. And hey,” I added, digging into my purse for a business card, “if you remember anything else, give me a call.”
“Will do.”
He disappeared into the back again, and I pushed outside, heading back to the motel.
An hour, a shower, and way too many slices of pizza later—Trevor had been right; the blueberry, feta, and ham concoction was life changing—I sat on the bed, both my and Lainey’s laptops open in front of me.
Ice slid down my spine when I pulled up the iMessage app on her laptop and read that final missive and my responding texts, which had been unread until now, confirming my suspicions.
TUESDAY, 10:41 PM
ME
I think he’s here.
REAGAN
Who?
Your stalker?
Lainey???
LAINEY!!!
When my messages had gone unanswered, I’d called.
And called and called and called.
The first five times, it rang through to her messaging system.
On the sixth try, it had gone straight to voicemail, like someone had turned it off, which coincided with the loss of her location in Find My Friends.
I hated snooping. Lainey and I didn’t have secrets, but going through her computer felt…icky, made my skin crawl. Like she’d burst into the room any moment, catch me red-handed, and start screaming.
The police would do all of this, but I didn’t want there to be any surprises for myself. I wanted to be sure I knew everything there was to know.
Starting with her most recent journal, which I stuffed into my purse, untouched.
I wasn’t ready to go there yet, but I knew I didn’t want the police to have whatever was written on its pages before me.
The rest were back home in Tennessee, and I’d hand over the ones from the last seven years as soon as I got back there.
Deep in my bones, I knew without a doubt her creepy ass stalker was behind this.
Her messages didn’t yield anything I hadn’t already known, and I breathed a sigh of relief. There was our text thread, going back so far I gave up after a few minutes of scrolling. Some correspondence with clients, messages with friends and distant relatives.
Interspersed among all of those were several threads from varying numbers, none of which were saved under any sort of contact information.
That would’ve been too difficult when they changed so often.
Messages from her stalker.
UNKNOWN
I miss you.
I had fun with you.
Come back and let’s do it again.
Those were the first three, sent not long after we’d returned to Tennessee, and they’d all been fairly innocent at first. Unlike me, who had chosen not to share any personal information beyond my first name with Finn that night seven years ago, Lainey was more…
trusting and had clearly given the creep she hooked up with her number.
I remembered when the first few came in.
“It’s fiiiiiine,” she said in a sing-song voice. “He’s harmless.”
Famous last words, I thought.
Things quickly took a turn when Lainey never responded.
UNKNOWN
You will be mine.
I will find you.
We’ll be together forever.
UNKNOWN
See you soon.
The last message had come over six months ago, but I found myself shocked by its tone. Lainey had claimed he’d left her alone after that, which, I could tell from my perusal of her messages, wasn’t a lie.
But she’d never shared the contents of the final message, or how ominous it came across.
We thought he was gone, that, after over six years of no response from Lainey, of her constantly blocking his numbers and social profiles—though that did little good—he’d finally given up and moved on.
Clearly, that hadn’t been the case.
I think he’s here.
Irritation, anger, and a sense of dismay rose within me, overwhelming and choking. I slammed the laptop shut and buried my face in my hands.
It should have been me.
Had it been me, we wouldn’t be in this mess.
We’d both be home in Tennessee, safe and sound and far away from this creep.
Even when we found her—yes, when; I refused to accept anything less—I didn’t think I’d ever be able to forgive myself.
“Goddesses, Lainey,” I whispered to the universe. “Where are you?”
Only silence answered.