CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Sleep refused to come.
Selena lay on top of the motel bed with one arm beneath her head and the other resting across her stomach.
The bedside lamp had been switched off twenty minutes earlier, but the room never became fully dark.
Light from the parking lot pushed around the curtains, outlining the dresser, the chair, and the boxes stacked against the wall.
Those boxes contained what remained of her Washington life.
Books. Files she had been allowed to keep. Framed photographs wrapped in sweaters. Two sets of glasses she never used. A chipped ceramic bowl Brent once claimed improved the taste of takeout noodles. The contents had survived the drive south, yet Selena had not found the energy to unpack them.
Doing so would make the motel room feel less temporary.
From the reception office came a scream.
Selena opened her eyes.
A burst of music followed, loud enough to carry through the wall. On Eric’s television, a woman pleaded with someone not to enter a basement. The warning went ignored. A door creaked. Heavy footsteps descended beneath a rising string score.
Selena checked the time.
She had been back at the Wilson Motel for less than an hour.
A shower had removed the dust from Boyd Cutler’s house and the long drive, but not the restlessness left by the day.
Karen Sloane was dead. Ruth Keller was dead.
Linda Mercer remained missing. Boyd’s alibi had weakened their only promising lead before they could build momentum from it.
The television screamed again.
Selena sat up.
“Unbelievable.”
She crossed the room barefoot, pulled on jeans, and exchanged her sleep shirt for a sweatshirt. Her weapon and badge went beneath a light jacket before she stepped outside.
The parking lot had cooled. A few cars occupied spaces near the far end, their windows reflecting the red and blue flicker from Eric’s television. Room curtains were closed. Nobody else had come out to complain, though the television was loud enough to make the office windows tremble.
Selena walked toward reception.
The film’s soundtrack grew clearer with each step. A man shouted that the ritual could not be stopped. Someone laughed from inside the office.
Not Eric.
Selena opened the door.
Kelly sat on a stool behind the counter with a paper cup in one hand. Her jacket hung over the back of Eric’s chair. The neat knot she had worn that morning had loosened, allowing strands of black hair to fall near her cheeks. A bottle of whiskey stood beside the register.
Eric occupied his usual place in front of the television. On-screen, a masked figure carried a shovel through a graveyard set constructed from painted foam and artificial fog.
Eric turned.
“Hey, well, look what the cat dragged in.”
“I hate to sound like an angry mom, but I came to ask you to turn that down.”
He picked up an empty paper cup and placed it on the counter. “You need a drink more than you need quiet.”
Before Selena could refuse, he poured a small measure of whiskey and slid the cup toward her.
Kelly raised her own. “We were just reminiscing about school.”
“That’s right,” Selena said. “You two were probably in the same year.”
Eric settled back in his chair. “We hated each other back then.”
“Hard to imagine.”
Kelly drank and gave a short laugh. “Selena hates me because I bullied her.”
Eric turned away from the television completely.
The film continued without him, a priest shouting from inside a stone chamber while the soundtrack climbed toward another cheap shock.
Kelly seemed amused by her own bluntness, but the set of her mouth suggested she had been circling the subject before Selena entered.
The statement stopped Selena’s hand above the cup.
Eric’s smile disappeared. He glanced between them, trying to judge whether the statement belonged to the whiskey or to a conversation he had already heard.
“I don’t hate you, Kelly,” Selena said. “And don’t let the whiskey loosen your lips too much. We’re up early.”
Kelly lowered her cup. “I know.”
Eric reached for the remote and reduced the volume. “Well, I say let bygones be bygones. We were all kids.”
“Yeah,” Selena said. “But then some kids do terrible things.”
The room became quieter than the lowered television required.
Kelly rested both forearms on the counter. “Selena, I can only say sorry. I don’t know what else you want me to…”
“It’s fine.”
Selena picked up the whiskey.
The cup felt thin between her fingers. She had not intended to drink. She also did not want another apology in front of Eric, with a rubber creature crawling across the television behind him and the motel register between them.
“We’re all big girls now,” Selena said.
Eric raised one hand. “I’m not a girl.”
“Present company excluded.”
She drank.
The whiskey carried heat down her throat and settled warmly beneath her ribs. Better than the cheap bourbon she expected from a motel office. Familiar, too.
“Still the good stuff, Eric.”
“Always.”
He poured her another without asking.
Selena should have stopped him. Instead, she held the cup as Eric returned his attention to the film.
On-screen, the shovel struck a coffin lid.
Eric said, “Do you remember Mr. Collander?”
Kelly laughed. “Mr. Cauliflower? Sure.”
Selena rested one hip against the counter. “Yeah. Didn’t he teach geography?”
“That was him.” Eric muted the television as the coffin opened. “Well, I have it on good authority that he is now Mrs. Cauliflower.”
Kelly blinked. “No way.”
“Yep. Happily married out in Idaho.”
Selena turned the cup slowly between her fingers. “Is this another rumor you’re starting?”
“Scout’s honor. A pal of mine saw her at a restaurant. Took him a minute to recognize her.”
Kelly shook her head. “You know people everywhere, don’t you?”
“People remember me.”
“Not always for the best reasons,” Selena said.
Eric ignored that. “Apparently she’s doing well.”
"Good," Selena said. "It's the twenty-first century as long as she's happy. We all have to be comfortable in our own skin."
“Amen to that,” Eric replied.
Selena lifted the second drink.
Her phone rang.
The sound cut through the office. Selena set the cup down untouched and took the phone from her jacket.
Connor’s name filled the screen.
She answered. “What is it?”
His breathing came clearly through the connection before his voice.
“There’s been another murder.”
The warmth from the whiskey vanished.
Eric paused the film. Kelly straightened on the stool.
“Who?” Selena asked.
“Linda Mercer. I found her car in an old barn off Talon Road. She’s inside it.”
Selena’s gaze moved to Kelly’s paper cup. “Same injuries?”
“The tongue’s been removed. It’s on the passenger seat.”
For a second, Selena heard only the low electrical hum of the motel office.
“Has the scene been secured?”
“Deputies are on the way. Matt’s coming. Blethan is out of town for the night.”
“I’m leaving now.”
Selena ended the call and turned to Kelly. “How many have you had?”
Kelly glanced at the bottle. “Uh, three.”
Eric pointed toward her cup. “You mean four.”
Kelly gave him a warning glance.
“Right,” Selena said. “I’ll go myself. Get some sleep. You’ll be needed in the morning.”
“Why?” Kelly asked.
“The missing woman turned up, and not in a good way.”
Kelly’s expression sobered. “Jesus Christ.”
Eric leaned an elbow on the counter. “This sounds juicy.”
“It’s not, Eric.” Selena pulled her jacket closed. “It’s a death, and not like your cheap horror films.”
His mouth tightened. “That’s a low blow. I do have feelings, you know.”
“I’ll see you both later.”
*
Outside, the cold reached through Selena’s sweatshirt.
She crossed the lot at a fast walk. She had taken only a mouthful, but the taste still lingered. That was enough to make driving herself to the scene a bad decision. Selena called Dana and asked for the nearest deputy to collect her.
That did not mean Connor would approve.
A cruiser pulled into the motel five minutes later.
Selena took the passenger seat beside Deputy Kelvin, whom she had never met.
As he followed Dana’s directions west beyond the town lights, Selena lowered both front windows and let the cold air clear the warmth from her skin.
One message warned them about the concealed turnoff.
Another confirmed that Connor had preserved the approach and ordered the first deputies to park behind his SUV.
When the navigation showed less than half a mile remaining, Selena asked Kelvin to slow.
A deputy had positioned his cruiser at the roadside with emergency lights running. He waved her toward a narrow track through the woods.
Branches dragged along the cruiser as it followed the ruts uphill. Red light pulsed between the trees ahead. The track opened into a clearing occupied by Connor’s SUV, two cruisers, and Matt Price’s van.
The barn stood beyond them.
Portable lamps had been set outside, throwing hard white light across its weathered boards. Darkness crowded the clearing; broken whenever red or blue flashes moved across the trunks.
Connor waited near the entrance.
He wore the same uniform from earlier, though his shirt had come loose at one side and dirt marked one knee. His hat was gone. Tension held his shoulders as Selena approached.
Matt Price stood inside the barn near Linda’s Corolla, photographing the ground around the vehicle.
Selena pulled on gloves and shoe covers from a kit beside the entrance.
“Where’s Blethan?” she asked.
“Lexington,” Connor said. “Family matter. He’ll be back tomorrow morning.”
“He knows about this?”
“I called him. He told Matt not to move the body until he gets here unless the temperature becomes a problem.”
Cold air entered through gaps in the barn walls. The body would remain stable for several hours, but not indefinitely.
Selena stepped inside.
The Corolla stood near the rear wall with its driver’s side facing the entrance. Mud dried along the wheel arches. Linda Mercer remained behind the wheel; her head turned slightly toward the passenger seat. Blood marked her sweater, coat, and the lower part of her jaw.
The tongue rested beside her purse.
Selena stopped several feet from the car.
Three women. The same violation. The same effort to silence them after death.
No private dispute could explain all of them now.
“We have a bona fide serial killer on our hands,” she said.
Connor stood behind her. “I agree.”
Matt lowered his camera. “I’d appreciate it if neither of you said that outside this barn until we have something ready for the public.”
“We won’t,” Selena said. “Maybe we’ll get lucky with a footprint or something here.”
“Doubtful. The floor’s concrete.” Matt directed his flashlight toward pale dirt gathered near the wall. “I’ll check outside. The track’s dusty, but there’s been wind through the trees, and deputies had to come in the same way.”
“Were they told to stop short of the barn?”
“Connor handled that. Their vehicles are behind his.”
Selena moved around the approved edge of the scene. The car windows were closed. Linda’s phone was not visible from where she stood. Her tan coat lay open, and the seat belt had not been fastened.
A numbered marker stood near the rear tire. Another had been placed beside a pale scrape on the concrete, where something heavy appeared to have crossed the accumulated dirt. Selena pointed toward it.
“What made that?”
“Don’t know yet,” Matt said. “Could be from the car. Could be older. I’ll photograph and sample it before anybody decides.”
Connor nodded toward the open barn doors. “If the killer drove Linda’s car in here, how did they leave?”
“That’s the question,” Matt said. “I’m checking for a second tire pattern and footwear leading from the barn to the road. Connor pointed out another set as well back the way. Could be the killer’s, could be people just passing through.”
“Any obvious wounds besides the mouth?”
“Not from outside the vehicle,” Matt said. “There’s blood on the front of her sweater, but I’m not opening the door until I’ve documented everything around it.”
“Good.”
Connor shifted near the barn entrance. “Can I speak with you for a second?”
The request carried a tone Selena recognized.
She followed him outside.
They crossed beyond the portable lights, stopping beside his SUV where the others could not hear without making an effort. The woods surrounded the clearing in a dark wall. Somewhere downhill, a deputy spoke quietly into a radio.
Connor turned toward her. “Have you had a drink?”
Selena felt irritation rise at once. “I drank a whiskey. Just one before I was called.”
“With Eric again?”
“Why? Are you jealous?”
“No.” Connor lowered his voice. “I don’t think it’s a good idea coming to a crime scene smelling of booze.”
“It was one drink.”
“I can smell it from here.”
“You called me after I’d had it. I didn’t know Linda was lying dead in a barn.”
“In the future, tell me.”
Selena stared at him. “Are you seriously telling me to play it by the book when you gave Morimer that money?”
Connor glanced toward the barn. “Keep your voice down.”
“You know that was just to find Victor’s killer.”
“I know what you told yourself.”
His jaw tightened. "It got us, Marlene."
“And has he come to collect his favor yet in return?”
“No.”
“He will. Just watch.”
Connor stepped closer, keeping his voice controlled. “I’m much more concerned with the killer in my home county than Morimer.”
“Our home county.”
A tired, humorless smile crossed his mouth. “Glad you’re acknowledging it finally instead of running away from it.”
Selena’s anger came clean and immediate.
“I never ran away.”
“Sure, you didn’t.”
The old arguments crowded in at once. Washington. The marriage ending. Her father’s illness. Diane’s resentment. Connor remaining in Harlan County while Selena built a life hundreds of miles away.
None of it belonged beside a murder scene, but Connor had opened the door.
Selena stepped back.
“Finish up with forensics and get some sleep, Connor. You’re going to need it.”
His expression changed, though the anger did not leave.
Selena continued before he could answer.
“Tomorrow, we have to find a lead, or it won’t be long before a fourth victim turns up.”