Chapter Sixteen
Push
The motel looked worse at sunset.
That probably shouldn’t have been possible, considering the place already looked like it rented rooms by the hour and accepted payment in cash, secrets, and poor life choices, but somehow the orange light dropping behind the roof made the peeling paint and cracked parking lot look even more depressing.
McKayla stood beside my bike, staring at the front office like she was preparing to interrogate a hostile witness. She probably was.
Anchor parked beside us and cut his engine. He clocked the motel office, then at me, then at McKayla. “You take lead,” he told her.
McKayla blinked. “Really?”
Anchor shrugged and swung off his bike. “You’re the PI. Ask what you need to ask.”
That surprised her. I caught it in the small shift of her face before she hid it. McKayla was used to fighting for space and answers. Anchor handing her both without argument threw her off for a second.
Then she nodded once and headed toward the office.
I followed on her right.
Anchor fell in on her left.
The bell above the door jingled when McKayla pushed inside, and the same girl from the other day sat behind the counter scrolling on her phone. She looked up with the same bothered expression she’d had last time, like customers personally offended her.
Then her eyes landed on me. And Anchor.
Her entire attitude changed so fast it was almost impressive. “Oh,” she said, sitting up straighter. “Hi.”
McKayla stopped in front of the counter. “Hi. I have a few questions about room eleven.”
The girl didn’t even look at her.
Her gaze slid from me to Anchor like she was trying to decide which one of us she wanted to make a terrible decision with first. “Can I help you?” she asked, still not looking at McKayla.
McKayla’s jaw tightened.
Anchor leaned his forearms against the counter, quiet and relaxed, letting McKayla handle it for now. That was Anchor’s thing when he wanted to be patient. He got still. Too still. Most people didn’t notice it right away.
I did.
McKayla cleared her throat. “Yes. Room eleven. I stayed there before. I need to know who checked into it after me.”
The girl finally glanced at her. Barely. “I can’t tell you that.”
McKayla nodded slowly. “Right. Of course. I know this is a very upstanding establishment and normally you’d never hand out guest information.”
The girl’s eyes narrowed.
I pressed my lips together.
Anchor looked down at the counter, probably hiding the same thing.
McKayla continued, “But my sister is missing, and I have reason to believe something tied to her happened in that room. I need to know if anyone has stayed there since I checked out.”
The girl leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “Nobody.”
McKayla blinked. “Nobody has checked into that room?”
“No.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“When did I check out?”
The girl clicked around on the computer slowly, clearly annoyed that the conversation was requiring effort. “Four days ago.”
“And no one has stayed in room eleven since?”
“No.”
McKayla glanced at me briefly, then back at the girl. “Do all the rooms look the same?”
“Pretty much.”
“Pretty much or yes?”
The girl rolled her eyes. “Yes. Same beds. Same furniture. Same ugly pictures. Same curtains.”
Anchor muttered under his breath, “Bulk order of bad decisions.”
McKayla’s mouth twitched.
The girl looked at Anchor like even his insult had been charming.
Jesus Christ.
McKayla leaned against the counter. “Can I get into room eleven for a few minutes?”
The girl’s expression sharpened. “No.”
“I just need to look at it.”
“You’re not checked in.”
“I don’t want to stay there.”
“Then no,” the girl snapped.
McKayla smiled tightly. “I’m not trying to steal your towels.”
“They’re not worth stealing,” I muttered.
The girl’s gaze snapped back to me with a hopeful smile.
I stared at her flatly. “Pay attention to McKayla.”
Her smile faltered. Good.
I stepped closer to the counter. “Anchor and I are both taken, and neither of us is interested. You’re barking up the wrong tree with both of us, so stop looking at us and answer her questions.”
Silence hit the little office.
McKayla slowly turned her head toward me.
Anchor chuckled once, low.
The girl’s face went red. “I wasn’t-”
“You were,” I said.
McKayla’s eyes sparkled with amusement, but she kept her mouth shut. Barely.
The girl looked flustered now, but she still tried to recover. “I can’t let people into rooms for free.”
Anchor finally pushed off the counter. The whole energy in the room shifted.
He didn’t flirt. Didn’t smile. Didn’t soften his voice. Anchor was so gone for Pearl that pretending interest in anyone else would’ve probably made him physically ill. Instead, he leaned one hand on the counter and stared at the girl until she swallowed.
“We’re not asking to rent the room. We’re asking for ten minutes to look at it because a woman is missing and that room might matter.
” His voice stayed calm, which somehow made it worse.
“You can hand us the key now, or I can start asking why this place doesn’t keep better security records when missing women might be tied to it. ”
The girl’s mouth opened. Closed.
Anchor kept staring.
She finally grabbed a key card from a drawer and shoved it across the counter. “Ten minutes.”
McKayla picked it up. “Thank you.”
“If you go over, I’m charging you for a night.”
McKayla smiled sweetly. “Put it on my tab next to emotional damage and bad customer service.”
The girl glared.
McKayla turned and headed for the door.
I followed her out before I laughed in the woman’s face.
Anchor came behind us, shaking his head. “You make friends everywhere you go.”
McKayla held up the key card. “It’s a gift.”
Room eleven sat exactly where it had the first time we came. Same cracked sidewalk, same faded door, same sad little number screwed crookedly into the frame.
McKayla stopped outside it for a second.
“You good?” I asked.
She looked up at me. “I hate this room.”
“Yeah.”
“I hated it before I knew my sister might have been photographed in it.”
“That makes sense.”
She gave me a small look like the simple agreement helped more than some long speech would’ve.
Then she swiped the card and pushed the door open.
The smell hit first.
Old carpet, stale air, cheap lemon cleaner. Same as before.
The room looked untouched since she left, which made sense if nobody had checked in.
Bed made tight. Curtains pulled half-closed.
Ugly landscape picture crooked on the wall.
Nightstand by the bed. Cheap lamp. Thin comforter with a pattern that looked like it had been chosen specifically to punish people.
McKayla walked inside and pulled the two photos from a folder tucked beneath her arm.
She had probably memorized them by now, but she still held them up and compared them to the room.
Anchor shut the door behind us and stayed near it while I moved around the space, scanning.
No obvious signs of a break-in.
Then again, this place didn’t look like it would take a criminal genius to get inside. The window lock looked like it could be defeated by a stiff breeze. The door had a chain lock, but that could also be easily popped.
McKayla stood beside the bed and held one photo up. “This one,” she said quietly. She angled the picture toward the ugly curtains. “See the pattern?”
I moved closer and looked.
Yeah. Same curtains. Same wall art edge. Same lamp angle.
Anchor stepped beside us. “That’s here.”
McKayla swallowed. “Yeah.”
She picked up the second photo and held it near the bed. “And this one. She was lying right here.”
The words hung heavy.
I looked at the bed, and then at McKayla.
Her face had gone pale, but her eyes were sharp. Her PI brain kept working even when she knew her sister had been here.
I respected the hell out of it.
“I wish I could see another room,” she said. “Just to confirm they really are the same.”
I turned and walked toward the door.
“Push?” she asked.
I didn’t answer. I stepped outside, left room eleven’s door open, and moved to the room next door.
Room twelve.
Anchor and McKayla followed me onto the sidewalk. “What are you doing?” McKayla asked.
“Confirming.”
I knelt by the lock, pulled a small tool from my pocket, and worked it into the door. Cheap motel locks were almost insulting. It took less than five seconds before the lock clicked.
McKayla stared at me.
Anchor looked bored.
I pushed the door open and motioned for her to go in.
She crossed her arms. “Do I even want to know why you can do that?”
“No.”
“Is this a biker skill or a Push skill?”
“Yes.”
Anchor barked out a laugh.
McKayla shook her head and stepped into the room. “Fantastic. My knight in shining criminal charges.”
“Door was basically asking for it,” I muttered.
Room twelve smelled worse but looked exactly the same.
Anchor stepped in behind us and looked around with obvious disgust. “They really did order shitty photos and curtains in bulk.”
McKayla glanced around slowly, comparing. “Same,” she said.
“Yeah,” I agreed.
We headed back to room eleven, and I let the door to twelve click shut behind us.
McKayla stood in the middle of her old motel room with both photos in her hands. “So the pictures were taken in one of these rooms,” she said.
“Yeah.”
Anchor nodded. “Looks that way.”
I looked around room eleven again. The bed. The cheap art. The window. “I’d bet it was this room.”
McKayla turned toward me. “Why?”
“Because this guy’s a psycho, and this was your room.”
Anchor grunted. “Easy enough to break in here, too.”
McKayla’s gaze moved to the window. “So he knew I was staying here.”
“Yeah.”
“And he took photos of Erin here.”
“Looks like it.”
She hugged the photos tighter to her chest. “That means he’s been watching me.”
My jaw tightened. “Yeah.”
She stared at the bed like it might give her answers if she glared hard enough.
Anchor rubbed a hand over his beard. “Yeah, but what’s the connection between you, Erin, and the club?”
“There really isn’t a connection to the other people and the club,” I said. “Not beyond them being found on the island.”
McKayla nodded slowly. “Maybe that’s the point.”
Anchor looked at her. “What?”
“Maybe this guy just wants to play with you.” Her eyes lifted to Anchor. “Mess with the club. Make you chase shadows. Make you question everyone.”
“Why?” Anchor snapped, frustration finally cracking through. “Why the fuck us?”
McKayla looked around the motel room for a second before answering. “I think we need to look harder at Bernice and Caleb Token.”
Anchor went still.
So did I.
She continued carefully. “Everything keeps circling back to that. Shay. Bernice. Your island’s past. The old clubhouse by the lake. Caleb’s death. There has to be more we don’t know.”
Anchor ran his fingers through his hair roughly and turned toward the window. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Fine. We’ll dig deeper.”
That wasn’t an excited agreement.
It sounded like a man who already knew digging deeper meant finding rot. He looked back at us. “We done here?”
McKayla took one last slow look around the room. “Yeah. I guess so.” Her mouth twisted. “I don’t think we’d be lucky enough to get the front desk girl to let us look in every room for Erin.”
“Maybe we send Vin and Cross to sweet talk her into doing that,” I said.
Anchor shrugged. “Wouldn’t hurt to try.”
McKayla snorted. “Good luck to them.”
We left room eleven and headed back toward the office.
The sun was sinking lower now, painting the parking lot in dull gold and stretching our shadows long across the cracked pavement. McKayla walked between Anchor and me with the posters tucked carefully beneath one arm.
When we reached the office, Anchor and I stayed right by the door where we could hear, but McKayla stepped inside alone to return the key.
The girl looked up from behind the desk and immediately made a face. “Find what you were looking for?”
McKayla stopped at the counter. For a second, I thought she might fire back something funny.
She didn’t. Instead, she sighed and slid the key card across the counter.
“My sister is missing, and I’m looking for any clue I can to find her, okay?
” Her voice stayed even, but there was an edge underneath it.
“I’m sorry I cock-blocked you. I guess my priorities are different from yours. ”
The girl’s mouth dropped open.
Anchor made a choking sound beside me.
McKayla turned and walked out before the girl could answer, and I fell into step beside her. Anchor did the same on her other side.
“That was interesting,” I said.
McKayla rolled her eyes. “That girl is annoying. Good luck to Vin and Cross.”
Anchor chuckled. I did too.
Even with everything pressing down on her, McKayla still had that spark. That mouth. That refusal to be swallowed whole by fear.
We reached the bikes, and she stopped beside mine like it was already where she belonged. That hit me harder than I wanted to admit.
She pulled on her helmet and climbed on behind me without hesitation. Her hands settled around my waist naturally now, like she’d done it a hundred times.
I liked it.
No point pretending I didn’t.
I started the bike and glanced at Anchor. He nodded once. We pulled out of the motel parking lot and headed toward the road back to Skull Island while the sun sank behind us.
The sky burned orange and pink over the tree line, and McKayla leaned into me as we picked up speed.
Behind us was the motel room where Erin had been photographed. Ahead of us was the island where the killer kept leaving his messages. And between the two, there had to be a connection.
We were getting closer.
I could feel it.
Closer to Erin.
Closer to the bastard playing games with us.
And when we found him, he was going to learn real fast that dragging McKayla into his game was the worst mistake he ever made.