Chapter 17
Before Sean collected Luke, he wanted to go and search the kitchen one more time. He kept the bloody knife in a bag hidden beneath his jacket as he moved through the hotel, which was silent as the freshly fallen snow that buried them.
Sean arrived at the kitchen and was surprised to find Chef Luke at the counter.
He looked up from his cutting board, slicing some carrots and apples.
“If you’re hungry, I’m putting together some snacks, but it’ll be a minute,” Luke replied.
“Food in the fridge already went bad, but the stuff in the freezer is still good.
Hopefully, the power comes back on before it goes bad, too.
Sean glanced at the knife block at the center of the counter. One of the spaces was empty, and it was the same size as the blade Jennie found in their bathroom.
“Missing a knife?” Sean asked.
Luke stopped chopping, then turned to Sean. “How’d you know that?”
It was hard to see Luke in the candlelight, but Sean performed a quick visual of any marks on Luke: bruises, scratches, red marks; anything that would have signified that he might have been in a fight recently, like with a screaming and kicking child, or a bride fighting off unwanted advances.
But the only thing Sean saw were some red marks on the chef’s fingers. “What are those?”
Luke glanced down at his fingers, then shrugged. “Pans are hot. Knives are sharp.”
“Tell me more about your night last night,” Sean said.
“I already told you,” Luke replied. “Finished up in the kitchen after about one, one thirty, then came back to my room, showered, and passed out.”
“Take any knives with you?” Sean asked.
“Nope,” Luke answered, still chopping.
Sean stepped around Luke and walked around the kitchen, taking his time to notice anything out of the ordinary.
“I think someone was in here last night though,” Luke said.
“What makes you say that?” Sean asked.
“The dent on my counter,” Luke answered, pointing to the spot Luke had noticed earlier. “That wasn’t there last night when I closed up.”
Sean walked over to the spot near the counter.
“Someone must have hit that sucker hard,” Luke said, and he tapped the countertop with his knuckles. “These things are stainless steel.”
Sean took a closer look at the dent and found no traces of blood.
He then stepped back, trying to take in the bigger picture.
Sean often found it helpful to retreat a few steps when he found himself looking too closely for something that might not be there.
It went against a person’s nature, because when there was a problem, most individuals wanted to drill down on the issue.
But taking a step back allowed him to see the bigger picture.
Or in this case, a shoe.
Sean walked back to the counter, then got down on his hands and knees. He used the plastic bag as a glove, reached beneath it, and removed a high heel.
Luke immediately stopped chopping his carrots and apples.
“I take it this wasn’t here last night, either?” Sean asked, holding up the woman’s shoe.
“No, it wasn’t,” Luke answered, and then quickly added. “Look, man, I know what you’re thinking, but I didn’t do anything, all right?”
Sean wasn’t looking at Luke. He was staring at the splash of blood on the side of the heel. He was also thinking about the bloody knife that he was now convinced was the missing blade from the knife block.
And then, after connecting the two, he turned his attention to Chef Luke, realizing the addict was now his top suspect.