Chapter Thirteen
Grace was staying at a hotel out by the highway.
A nice three-star sort of place. No idea if she chose it or the podcast put her up there.
I head out around sunset the next day since work took longer than expected due to a new account.
This might be a total waste of time. But I have to do something.
I can’t just sit around any longer waiting for news.
The hotel is a big old four-story brick building.
While the lighting in the parking lot could be better, the place is packed, so I wind up parking on a grassy area in the back.
Some of the trees surrounding the lot have started to change color.
Green giving way to red, orange, and gold.
Guess summer is officially over for another year.
A dark sedan seemed to follow me some of the way, but they didn’t turn off into the hotel parking lot with me.
Not that I have any idea what car Laura drives.
But there’s been no sign of my stalker for a while now.
Which is curious. Perhaps the push to have Ryan retried is taking up her time.
Or did shadowing me just stop being fun?
Inside, the air is cool and stale. Signs in the foyer advertise a Hemp and Cannabis Conference happening.
A folk band plays in the bar area to a good-sized audience.
One that is as mellow as can be. And the person at reception looks bored as can be.
They’re around twenty. Curvy, with white skin, an assortment of piercings, and a gaze that’s glued to the computer screen.
I approach the desk with a wide hopeful smile. “Hi.”
“Hello.” The tag on their neat and tidy shirt says their name is Harper. “How can I help you?”
“My cousin stayed here a couple of days ago. She’s the woman who went missing and was found out at the park.” Notice the way in which I delicately omit the word “murder.” As if not using it will change anything. “I was wondering if—”
“We can’t talk about that,” they say flatly.
Of course I’m not the first person sniffing around for information.
No doubt the media and an assortment of amateur detectives have already been by.
So this is when I somehow endear myself to them.
This part of the process is usually left to Muriel or Hana.
They both have better people skills. Less of a warning: possible psycho killer attached to their name and/or face.
But Harper raises their gaze from the screen and stops cold at the sight of me. “Oh. It’s you. Sidney, right?”
“Yeah. Hi.”
They stare at me for a moment. Then their gaze flits around the room before settling on me once more. Checking no one is nearby or listening into our conversation. Like the band’s rousing rendition of “Jolene” would allow for such a thing.
“She came down here to complain about the towels,” says Harper, leaning in and lowering their voice. “It was about this time of night. I don’t know what she expected me to do about it. They’re okay quality, but this isn’t the Hilton.”
I just nod.
“Her phone rang, and she answered it on speaker. The woman on the phone was pissed off. Told her to take her off speaker. Then your cousin said, ‘Why are you calling me? I did what you wanted.’”
“Huh.”
“That’s all I can tell you. It’s the same thing I told the police.”
“Was she young or old, do you think? The person who called her?”
“Not a clue. There was a band playing that night too. I couldn’t hear well enough to tell you anything more. But your cousin, she wasn’t happy. I mean, she was already upset about the towels. Then hearing from this person made her mouth do the puckered thing. You know what I mean?”
“I know what you mean.”
“The cops still have her room sealed and some of her stuff in there. But I can’t show it to you, sorry.”
“I don’t want to get you into any trouble. Thank you for talking to me.”
“Sure. For what it’s worth, I don’t think you killed those women,” says Harper. “I’ve watched a ton of reels about it and honestly I just don’t get that vibe from you.”
“Thanks.”
They just nod. “You’re welcome.”
“I think you can do anything you set your mind to,” says Noah later that night. “Is that the correct supportive response?”
“Not a clue. I’ve never actually figured out what I’m supposed to say. I mean, I guess it’s good that I don’t look like a homicidal maniac. But anyone could probably kill given the right circumstances, right?”
“I am going to go with noncommittal on this one. It’ll help me sleep better at night.”
“Fair enough.”
He gives me an amused glance as we wander down the street, away from home. Amusing this man just might be my new favorite thing. Being someone who brings a smile to his face.
Both Auggie and I needed a walk. To be out in the fresh night air brings a welcome reprieve.
Clouds cover most of the sky, with stars peeking through here and there.
And a cool breeze is blowing in from the north.
We’re heading into sweater weather. Noah didn’t like the idea of us going on our own, and I love being in his company, so this is a win all round. He holds both the leash and my hand.
“Probably a good thing you don’t have murdery vibes,” he says eventually.
“I think so. What’s a murdery vibe anyway?”
“What did you find out at the hotel?”
“Not much,” I say. “An angry woman called her on the phone. Grace answered, ‘What do you want? I’ve already done what you asked.’”
He frowns.
“It doesn’t sound related to the cancelled wedding. She said something about the podcasters not being the only ones willing to pay right before I threw her out. But I don’t know who she meant. Some other media outlets maybe?”
“Hmm.”
“Like I said, it’s not much to work with. My aunt said she hadn’t talked to her in weeks, so it definitely wasn’t her.”
His frown intensifies. “Still can’t believe she hit you.”
“Yeah. That was something.” I chew on my bottom lip. “I wonder if the police have Grace’s cell. Nothing’s been said about it in the media. Though the person calling her could have used a burner or something. Who knows.”
“You’re assuming the call had something to do with her death?”
“It’s all we’ve got to go on right now.” I shrug. “Grace doesn’t seem like the type to agree to clandestine meetings in national parks in the middle of the night. But if they lured her out there with the promise of money…”
A line appears between his dark brows. “You think the podcast people were involved?”
“No. I don’t think they killed her. They are, however, the reason why she was here.”
“It would be a pretty extreme way to get publicity.”
“Yeah. They were right about there being a proven history of people inserting themselves into investigations. I have a theory about it being a copycat. Someone who wants my ex’s attention,” I say.
“What if the killer couldn’t get close to the cops, but could get in with the podcasters?
It’s the next best thing. They have access to Ryan and he’s like a rock star to some of them. ”
“That’s so messed up.”
I nod and think it over. “Maybe I should give the detective a call and ask for an update. I doubt she’ll tell me anything, but it’s worth a try. The idea that whoever did this is just walking around out there…”
He gives my hand a squeeze. “They caught your ex. I am sure they’ll catch this person too.”
“I hope so. The best use of my time is still probably focusing on where Ryan buried the other women’s bodies. It’s our best chance of keeping him behind bars.”
Auggie steers us off the road and toward a tree. There’s peeing and sniffing to be done.
“What are you going to do when all of this stops dominating your life?” asks Noah.
“That’ll be a beautiful day. I don’t know.”
“Something worth thinking about.”
“Move to another town where I am not so well known maybe,” I say. “But I love it here. I’m not sure I could stay away forever.”
“Hmm.”
“You know what I haven’t done in a long time?” I turn to him with a small smile. “Gone on a vacation.”
“Now there’s something we could be planning. Are you thinking sun and sand or what?”
“A beach would be good. Somewhere with a totally different vibe.”
“How about Havana?” he asks. “We could spend a week soaking up the sun and eating Cuban food. Or if you want to go further afield, there’s Thailand. The street food there is supposed to be amazing.”
“I don’t even have a passport.”
“We need to get you a passport.”
Auggie takes a keen interest in the remains of some asters.
It won’t be long before the last of the late summer flowers die off and fall takes over.
Then all of these gardens will start giving way to stick season, followed by the white of winter.
Seasons keep rolling along year in and year out.
In a way, it’s comforting how life just keeps keeping on.
We’re only a couple of blocks away from the waterfront now.
Walking down quiet streets with most of the houses sitting in darkness.
“You haven’t told me how things are at work with Jade,” I say with a wince.
And he winces right back. “We’re both keeping it professional.”
“Okay.”
“No one is universally loved, Sid.”
“I know. We’re all the villain in someone’s story, right?”
He grunts.
Which is when I see the vehicle. A dark sedan with tinted windows rolling slowly down the street, right behind us.
And it’s not like we’re strolling in the middle of the road.
We’re walking on the grass so the dog can inspect people’s front yards.
There’s plenty of room for the driver to go around us and get on with their night, if that was what they wanted.
But it isn’t what they do. Nope. They continue trailing us.