Chapter 17
The gift shop was dark when Cal dropped her off to collect her car. She sighed. “I told Bonnie to leave the sales floor light and exterior lights on for security.”
Cal folded his arms on the steering wheel of his Wrangler and leaned forward to peer more intently through the windshield at the dark building and empty lot. “How old did you say the girl is you have working for you?”
“Seventeen, I think. Why?”
“I just don’t like the idea of her being alone out here anymore than I like the idea of you being alone until our killer is caught.” He glanced at her. “I could assign a deputy to come out and watch the premises around closing time.”
Jules opened her mouth to refuse, but how could she deny Bonnie the extra protection? “You’d ask them to be discreet? I don’t want to scare Bonnie.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Bonnie knows about the murder at the sculpture, doesn’t she? She knows to be alert and careful?”
Jules glanced away. “She knows. You can’t keep something like finding a dead guy a secret in a small town, but…
I downplayed it.” She’d thought she was protecting Bonnie’s mental health by keeping unsavory truths from her.
Hadn’t Abby, when overloaded with too much frightening reality, cracked under the pressure?
Cal grunted. “Jules, Bonnie deserves to know what really happened just yards from her place of employment. More important, she needs to be fully briefed how to stay safe and what to look out for. And I think I’d hire another employee so you can work in teams.”
Jules shook her head. “I’ve asked the store owner about more help before, especially with the store closing for a couple of days at the height of tourist season. He always says it’s not in the budget.”
A muscle in Cal’s jaw ticked. “Then the deputy is a done deal. At least until we catch our killer.”
“You really have a man to spare for that from your small staff?” she asked.
His brow creased as if considering the hardship it would cause the department. Then, squaring his shoulders, he said, “I’ll find a way, or I’ll do it myself.”
She studied him and the resolve that sculpted his face and shone in his eyes. Had she ever known this much dedication and responsibility from any man, much less from an officer of the law? Had she met someone as reliable as Cal in the past, Abby’s life could have been so different.
Of course, she’d heard promises before, assurances that weren’t worth the breath that spoke them. Did she dare put any belief in Cal’s promises?
She gave a tight nod and opened the passenger door. “All right. Thank you. For the extra security for the shop and for today.” She took a beat and curled up a corner of her mouth. “I had fun. Your family is great.”
“I had fun, too.” He shifted in his seat and reached for her, but Jules scuttled out of the Jeep before he could do more than brush her cheek with his knuckles.
Had he been trying to kiss her? Her heart scampered at the notion. Facing him again, she sent him a brief smile and wished him a goodnight before closing the door.
She hurried to her car and climbed inside, hoping he couldn’t tell her limbs were trembling.
Wasting no time, she started her engine and pulled out on the highway.
She monitored his headlights behind her until he turned off on the side street at the edge of town that led back to his house.
She touched her cheek where his fingers had grazed her skin and felt a pleasant hum stir inside her.
If such a light and casual touch from him had her body buzzing and hypersensitive, how much more would she enjoy having him stroke her bare body, kiss secret places?
She was still pondering those tantalizing questions when she pulled into the motel parking lot and realized her motel room door was ajar.
She’d already complained once to the motel manager that the lock was flimsy, and since she could see the night manager in the front office watching something on his little TV, she detoured to speak to him about the lock.
The manager glanced up from the television screen, his expression saying he was irritated by having his show interrupted.
“When are you going fix the lock on my door?” she asked without any niceties.
He sighed and heaved himself out of his chair to stroll over to the counter. “There’s nothing wrong with your door. I already looked at it.”
“Really? Then why is the door partially ajar now, when I locked it as I left?”
“Maybe housekeeping didn’t close it when they finished?”
“If that’s true, you need to have a word with housekeeping about securing residents’ doors.”
The man gave her a flat look and a shrug. “Noted.”
“Meanwhile, I still say the lock is wobbly and insecure. Grab your toolbox and come fix it, please.” Her tone said it was not a request. She was fed up with the rickety lock.
The manager cocked his head to the side. “What, now?”
“Yes. Now.” She waved a hand to the small TV and added, “While I see that you’re extremely busy—” her tone and the sour look she gave him contradicted her words “—I’m sure you and the Better Business Bureau would agree that your lodgers’ safety and comfort is your first priority.”
The man glared at her for a few seconds before shuffling to a closet and removing a small rusty toolbox. “Fine.”
Jules outpaced the manager and reached the door a good ten steps faster. She wiggled the knob in demonstration, and with a gentle nudge, the door opened.
“See?” she said.
The word was barely out of her mouth when a tall man in a ski mask lunged from inside her room and wrapped his arm around Jules’s throat.
She saw a flash of metal. Screamed.
“Shut up!” the man growled.
“Hey! What the—” the manager shouted.
The man holding her tensed, then shoved her aside. The masked man knocked into the night manager so hard as he fled that the manager stumbled backward and fell on his back. His toolbox clanked to the ground next to him, the loud noise almost as jarring as the initial assault.
Jules shook from head to heels, but she hurried to assist the manager. “Are you all right? Did he cut you?”
The manager craned his head to stare in the direction the man had run, grumbling an epithet under his breath. Only then did he blink at Jules like an owl. “Cut? He had a knife?”
“I think so. I saw something—” Her knees gave out, and she crumpled heavily on the sidewalk. After taking a moment to catch her breath, she angled a glare at the manager. “I’m fine, by the way. Thanks for asking.”
“Huh?” The manager paused as he struggled to his feet and dusted his hands.
Around them, a few of the other room doors opened and concerned faces peered out.
“Pardon the disturbance, friends. Everything’s fine,” the man said, giving a small wave.
“Fine?” Jules hissed. “A man was waiting in my room with a knife, because your sorry door lock didn’t keep him out!”
The man offered his hand to help Jules to her feet, and she brushed it aside as she clambered to her feet again. “Are you going to call the police or am I?”
The night manager’s gaze jerked toward her. “The police? No, no, no. We can’t do that.”
She blinked hard. “Excuse me?”
“Look, I’m already on notice with the boss. If he hears there was an incident on my watch that required the cops being called, I’ll be canned for sure.”
“And that’s my problem because…?”
He scowled. “Look, if you’ll let this go, no harm no foul, I’ll get a new lock on your door first thing in the morning when the hardware store opens. I promise.”
She continued to stare at him in dismay. “I had a man with a knife in my room.”
Although she said it to make a point to the manager, she heard the words she was saying, and a fresh wave of terror rolled through her.
Over the heavy thud of her heartbeat in her ears, she absently heard the manager still pleading his case. “I’ll comp your rent this week…no, the whole month. And get new pillows for the bed.”
Who had the man been? Had Chase Hamilton figured out who she was, what she was doing and where she was staying and come after her? If he’d learned where Abby was, who knew what else Chase had figured out. Yet…somehow that explanation didn’t feel right. Why the ski mask and—
Shut up…
The low pitch of those two words, snarled by the attacker, rolled through her head. They didn’t match Hamilton’s voice, one she’d long ago memorized, having listened numerous times to the voice mails he left on Abby’s phone.
“It’s not like there’s much the cops can do, anyway. That room’s full of fingerprints, and he was wearing a mask, so it’s not like you could identify him. Huh?” the manager continued. “Besides, he’s long gone now. Come on. I need this job, lady. Can we just let this little incident go this time?”
The man’s wheedling tone grated her nerves, but a couple things he said reverberated inside her.
Not much the cops can do…
Would any report she filed be dismissed as easily as had the complaints Abby filed against Chase Hamilton?
She didn’t like to think Cal or—being within the city limits and in the city police’s jurisdiction—Wyatt would be as cavalier about dismissing the incident as those other law enforcement officers had been.
But since Wyatt was a detective, working a special case with his task force, it was more likely a rank-and-file patrolman would respond if they called this in.
Her gut turned as she remembered how little previous encounters with the police had netted her or Abby.
The night manager was sweating. “No one was hurt, so really—”
“Fine.” Jules pinched the bridge of her nose. “No police.”
The manager looked so relieved she thought he might cry.
She aimed her finger at the door. “But that better be fixed with a deadbolt by the end of the day tomorrow or the deal’s off.”
He raised a hand. “I swear it will.”
“And I want that free month’s rent and new pillows you offered.”
A gift shop salary didn’t go far and she had to pay Abby’s expenses after all.
The man’s shoulders slumped, but he nodded. “All right.”
As he noisily collected his scattered tools, something else the night manager had said replayed in her head.
He was wearing a mask… It’s not like you could identify him…
The second man who’d been in the gift shop five nights ago, the man Cal and his brother suspected had killed John Harper, had worn a red hoodie to hide his face.
Had that second man realized she’d seen him and considered her a threat?
Had the murderer discovered who she was and come to kill the only witness from the night of his crime?
The notion chilled her to the marrow, and she knew she wouldn’t sleep a wink tonight—especially without a strong lock on her door.