CHAPTER TWENTY
Tessa sat on the edge of the motel bed, remote control in hand, flipping through morning news channels with the sound barely audible.
Maya was in the shower, the water running in the cramped bathroom, leaving Tessa alone with her thoughts and the constant low-grade anxiety that had been her companion for three days.
Three days of hiding. Three days of checking the parking lot obsessively, jumping at every car door that slammed, imagining threats in every shadow. Three days of Maya bringing food and reassurance while Tessa spiraled deeper into the certainty that she'd made a terrible mistake by running.
The Desert Star Motor Lodge looked even more depressing in daylight—sun-bleached paint, cracked asphalt, the pool filled with murky water that looked like it hadn't been cleaned in months.
This was the kind of place people came to disappear, and Tessa had done exactly that.
Disappeared from her life, her apartment, everything familiar, all because she'd been too scared to tell the truth about finding Victor dead.
She landed on a local news channel and was about to keep flipping when she saw the words "brEAKING NEWS" appear on screen, followed by "PHOENIX PD PRESS CONFERENCE."
Tessa turned up the volume.
The image showed a podium with the Phoenix PD logo, two women standing behind it—one in a detective's blazer, the other in more casual attire. The taller one with dark hair pulled back stepped forward first.
"Good morning. I'm Detective Maria Santos with the Phoenix Police Department's Homicide Unit. We're here today to discuss the ongoing investigation into the murders of Richard Garrison, Margaret Hoffman, and Victor Sheridan."
Tessa's breath caught at Victor's name. She leaned forward, the remote forgotten in her hand.
"We're specifically appealing today to an important witness," Detective Santos continued.
"A woman called 911 to report finding Victor Sheridan deceased in his Paradise Valley home.
This woman provided the address and basic information but ended the call before identifying herself.
We believe she was frightened—understandably so—by what she'd witnessed and by the prospect of becoming involved in a homicide investigation. "
The camera zoomed in on Detective Santos's face.
"I want to be very clear about something," Santos said.
"This woman is not a suspect. She did exactly the right thing by calling 911 and reporting what she found.
She is a witness, and we believe she may have information that could be crucial to solving not just Victor Sheridan's murder but all three killings. We need her to come forward."
The other woman stepped forward. "My name is Detective Kari Blackhorse, and I'm consulting on this case," she said.
"I want to speak directly to the woman who made that 911 call.
I know you're scared. If you're watching this, you're probably trying to decide if you can trust us.
I know you might have reasons—legitimate reasons—to be wary of law enforcement. "
Tessa felt tears prick her eyes. It was like Detective Blackhorse was talking directly to her, seeing through the TV into this shabby motel room where Tessa was hiding.
"But I need you to know something important," Blackhorse continued. "Victor Sheridan was killed by someone who has murdered two others. And there is no certainty this person won't kill again."
The bathroom door opened and Maya emerged, toweling her hair. She stopped when she saw Tessa's face. She followed Tessa's gaze to the television.
"What—" Maya started, but Tessa shushed her, turning up the volume more.
Detective Santos was speaking again. "We understand this witness may be concerned about legal exposure.
Let me address that directly. Yes, leaving a crime scene is problematic.
But given the circumstances—the trauma of finding Mr. Sheridan, the fear of the situation—we're prepared to work with the prosecutor's office to ensure minimal consequences.
What we care about is solving these murders. "
"We're also concerned for your safety and privacy," Detective Blackhorse added.
"If you witnessed something that night, if you know something about who had access to Victor's home or who might have wanted him dead, the real killer may view you as a threat.
Coming forward means we can protect you.
Hiding means you're vulnerable and alone. "
Tessa wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the weight of those words.
Vulnerable and alone. That's exactly what she'd been for three days—lying awake in this motel room, wondering if every sound was someone coming for her, if the woman who'd worn that bracelet had realized Tessa existed and decided she needed to be silenced too.
"If you're watching this," Detective Santos said, looking directly into the camera, "please call this number.
" A phone number appeared on the screen.
"Ask for me or Detective Blackhorse specifically.
We'll arrange to meet you wherever you feel safe—at the station, at a public location, anywhere you choose.
You'll have my word that you'll be treated as a witness helping our investigation, not as someone in trouble. "
"Victor Sheridan deserves justice," Detective Blackhorse said quietly. "And Thomas Hatathli deserves his freedom. You can help us give them both what they deserve. Please come forward."
The press conference continued with reporters asking questions, but Tessa had stopped listening. She stared at the phone number on the screen, at the two detectives who'd made a public appeal directly to her, who'd acknowledged her fear and tried to address it.
Maya sat down next to her. "Tess? That was about you, wasn't it?"
"Yeah." Tessa's voice came out hoarse. "They're asking me to come in."
"Are you going to?"
Tessa thought about Victor—how kind he'd been, the respect and warmth he'd shown her over five years.
She thought about him dying alone in his kitchen.
She thought about how she'd called 911 because she couldn't bear to just leave him there, but then had run anyway because she'd been too scared to face the consequences of helping.
And she thought about Thomas Hatathli, a name she barely knew, a man she'd never met, sitting in jail.
The two detectives hadn't specifically said Hatathli was innocent, but wasn't that the implication?
Tessa hadn't gotten the impression that they believed the killer was in custody, and they were just gathering all the evidence they could. They'd sounded too urgent for that.
"Tessa?" Maya asked, prompting her.
Tessa swallowed hard and tried to articulate what she was feeling.
"I think if they were lying, if they just wanted to arrest me or charge me with something, they wouldn't have done it this way.
They would have just tracked me down. But instead, they made it public.
They promised I wouldn't be treated as a suspect.
I think they actually care about getting this right, and I think they believe the man in custody isn't the person who killed Victor. "
Maya squeezed her hand. "So what do you want to do?"
Tessa looked at the television, where the press conference had ended and the news anchors were now discussing it. One of them was saying something about "unusual tactics" and "desperate police work," but another was defending it, saying it showed compassion and smart strategy.
"I want to stop hiding," Tessa said. "I'm so tired, Maya.
I'm tired of being scared, tired of looking over my shoulder, tired of feeling like I abandoned Victor when he needed someone to speak for him.
" She stood up, her decision solidifying as she moved.
"And I don't want an innocent person to go to prison because I was too scared to tell the truth. "
"Are you sure? Because once you do this, you can't take it back. You'll be part of this investigation, your name will probably come out eventually—"
"I know. But that detective was right about one thing—I'm more vulnerable hiding than I am cooperating.
" Tessa pulled out her phone, the regular one she'd kept turned off for days, and powered it on.
"If the killer knows about me, she may already be looking for me.
At least if I'm with the police, I'll have protection. "
"She?" Maya asked.
"The one I think killed Victor." The phone powered on, immediately buzzing with days of missed calls and messages. Tessa ignored all of them and carefully dialed the number that had been displayed on the news.
"Phoenix Police Department," a woman answered.
"Hi, I..." Tessa's voice caught, and she took a breath. "This is Tessa Crane. I need to speak with Detective Maria Santos or Detective Kari Blackhorse."