CHAPTER FIVE #2
“I was opinionated early.”
Hannah gave a soft laugh. “How is Diane these days?”
The question tightened something in Selena’s chest.
“She’s doing fine.”
“Tell her Hannah Montgomery asked after her.”
“I will.”
The lie came too easily. The argument had begun during Robert’s illness, but it had hardened around more than his care: Selena living in Washington, Diane’s resentment, and accusations neither of them had ever properly withdrawn.
Passing along a childhood greeting would mean opening all of that again, and Selena kept finding reasons not to.
She returned to the investigation. “One final question. Did Karen tell you what she planned to write? I mean a title or what it was about?”
"No. Only that it was a novel, she said she'd wanted to do it most of her life. I think her dad had tried his hand at writing and she thought it was in her, too. Listen, Selena… I'm sorry I have a few things to..."
Selena sat up. “No, that’s quite all right. I’ve got everything I need.” How she wished that were actually true. “Thank you for your time. Please send the booking inquiries and the contact information we discussed to my email address. I’ll text you it.”
“I’ll do it tonight.”
“If you remember anything else, even if it seems minor, call me or the sheriff’s department.”
“I will. Agent Raven?”
“Yes?”
“Please find whoever did this. That cabin was supposed to be a safe place.”
Selena glanced at Karen’s name on the page.
“We’re going to do everything we can.”
The call ended.
No useful lead had emerged, but Selena entered the information into the case log and sent Connor a summary. She attached Dale’s details for a routine check, then reviewed the pages once more.
The school creaked around her.
Night had taken the windows completely. The room beyond the lamp had become a collection of dim desks and cabinet shapes. Her reflection hovered in the glass above the sink, pale and incomplete against the darkness outside.
Selena closed the file.
There would be more to do in the morning.
Hannah’s booking records needed checking.
Gerry’s alibi required confirmation. Karen’s storage unit had to be processed, assuming local police had preserved it properly after the burglary report.
Selena would need to see if any prints were taken at that scene.
For tonight, she had reached the point where tiredness would begin creating mistakes.
Selena lifted the loaner radio the sheriff’s department had issued her when she came back to Harlan and pressed the transmit button.
“Connor, this is Selena.”
Static answered, followed by Connor’s voice.
“Go ahead.”
“I’m turning in for the night. Hannah Montgomery didn’t give me much, but I’ll send you the notes.”
“No worries. I’ll read them when I get back.”
Selena reached for her jacket.
Connor continued, “I was at your dad’s earlier.”
Her hand stopped.
“Yeah?”
“I got the impression you’re not staying there.”
“I’m not.”
A brief silence passed over the channel.
“Tell me you’re not still at the Wilson motel.”
Selena lifted the radio closer. “Guilty. Once I find a place I can call my own, I’ll leave the motel.”
“Can’t be easy staying there.”
“Are you offering me a room?”
The question carried more humor than intent. Connor did not answer immediately.
“You wouldn’t like my place,” he said.
“Oh? Why?”
“Because half the rooms are still full of things I never learned how to throw away.”
“You still live alone?”
“Yeah.”
“After all this time?”
“Solitude has its benefits.”
For years, Selena had pictured Connor moving on: a different house, new furniture, someone else’s photographs on the walls. She had never asked where he lived after the divorce.
Memory arrived in pieces of their old home, now in the hands of someone else.
The narrow kitchen where they ate standing up after late shifts.
The bedroom window that rattled during storms. A mark inside the hallway closet from the time Connor tried to install shelves without measuring properly.
Selena had spent years insisting the marriage belonged to another life.
But the memory still made its home within her.
She searched for a response that did not expose too much.
None came.
Connor spared her from finding one.
“I’ll let you know when I’ve got something on Gerry Tomes and Hinkel.”
“Thanks.”
Selena switched off the lamp, leaving the ceiling light to guide her toward the door.
“Good night, Connor.”
“Good night, Selena.”
She returned the radio to her bag.
The corridors seemed longer on the way out. Selena locked the teachers’ lounge, checked the rear exit, and walked toward the lobby without allowing herself to slow near the old empty trophy case. The echo followed again, but this time she did not turn.
*
The Wilson Motel sign blinked above the office when Selena pulled into the lot.
Several rooms had lights behind their curtains. A man in work clothes carried a bag of takeout toward Room Eight, and a television flickered blue through a gap in another window. Room Five waited near the middle of the row.
Selena parked, collected her bag, and tried the key.
It entered halfway before jamming.
She pulled it out, tried again, and put more pressure on the lock. The key refused to turn.
“Of course.”
Selena walked to reception.
The bell above the door clacked when she entered.
Eric Wilson sat behind the counter with his feet on a lower shelf and his glasses low on his nose.
His receding brown hair appeared flattened on one side, and the mustache he had grown before Selena’s last visit remained in place.
A bowl of popcorn rested beside the register.
On the small CRT television, a woman in a silver cape crept through a cardboard castle while a creature with three eyebrows waited behind a curtain.
Eric glanced up.
“Hey, Selena. You have a good day?”
“It’s been interesting.”
“That usually means somebody else had a bad one.”
Selena set the brass key on the counter. “The door’s sticking again.”
Eric glanced toward the screen. “Are you really going to ask me to stop watching Bikini Vampires from the Fourth Dimension?”
“You’ve seen it before. Several times, Eric.”
“I notice different details each time.”
“It’s either that or I sleep in here on the floor.”
“Don’t be silly. I’d let you sleep on the counter.” Eric considered the narrow surface between them. “I’d even get you a pillow.”
Selena laughed.
Eric reached for the remote and paused the film. The woman in the silver cape froze with one hand raised.
“If you promise me a couple of drinks in here Saturday night and watch a movie with me again, I’ll fix it.”
“You know it’s your job, Eric.”
“I’m the owner.”
“Still your job.”
Selena held out the key.
He accepted it with a smile. “Anything for a high school buddy.”
Eric came around the counter and followed her outside. The evening had cooled, and a breeze carried dry leaves across the edge of the lot.
As they approached Room Five, he said, “I heard through the grapevine there were police over at the old Montgomery place.”
“You know I can’t tell you anything official.”
“I figured you’d say that.”
“How developed is this grapevine?” Selena asked.
“Somebody saw the coroner’s van. By lunch, half of Elmsview knew there’d been a death. The other half probably knows who did it.”
“And they’ll all name different people.”
“That’s what makes local gossip dependable. Covers every possibility.”
Eric pushed the key into the lock. It stopped at the same point.
He drew it back slightly, struck the door beside the handle with the heel of his hand, then turned the key. The lock opened.
Selena stared at him. “That’s your repair?”
“It’s a temporary adjustment.”
“You hit the door.”
“Years of experience taught me exactly where.”
Eric pushed it open and handed back the key.
“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” he said. “So, Saturday night?”
“I’ll think about it, Eric.”
“That’s better than no.”
Selena stepped inside. The room had not changed since morning. The bedspread remained smooth, and the framed lake above the dresser continued to promise scenery far better than anything visible from the window.
“Good night.”
“Good night, Selena.”
She closed and locked the door.
The room’s quiet felt different from the school’s. Smaller. Contained. Filled with several boxes on the floor shipped from Washington, D.C. Belongings waiting for a home. A real home. Selena placed her bag on the chair and sat on the edge of the bed without removing her jacket.
Her phone vibrated.
A message from Meg waited on the screen.
NEW AGENT ARRIVING TOMORROW. BE NICE.
Relief came first. Another investigator meant someone to share the interviews, reports, and long hours inside the empty field office.
Then suspicion followed.
Meg knew Selena well enough to include the warning for a reason.
She read the message again, wondering who Meg had sent.