“I didn’t know he did that,” said Stevie. “We should see if there’s something the police department can do during the holidays. I’ll get my mother to ask around for us. Heck, she’ll probably find us elf jobs for next year.”
The front door slammed. “Zane?” Kenny’s voice was an octave too high.
“Back here!” Zane exchanged a glance with Stevie. She and Kenny had gone to high school together, and she regarded him as a sort of gentle pet that needed occasional encouragement and dating advice. Her lips were pressed together, her dark gaze serious, and Zane knew Kenny wouldn’t get any slack from her.
Good. Zane wanted answers.
Loud boots clomped down the hall, and Kenny burst into the office, his lean face horrified. “I locked the door, Zane. I swear I did!”
“Someone got in, Kenny. Did you see anyone near the building before you left?” Zane asked.
“Sheesh, I don’t know. I was thinking about getting out to the motel. It’s not very often that we get a call like that. I know I locked the door, because I forgot at first. I’d driven a hundred yards down Main when I heard Sheila’s voice in my head about the door. She’s always harping on me about it. I turned around and came back, locked it, and headed out to the motel.”
Stevie met Zane’s gaze. Was he initially gone long enough for someone to get in?
“You didn’t go back inside our building after you turned around?” Zane asked.
“I wasn’t gone thirty seconds. I didn’t even turn off my car. I just ran up and locked the door, then jumped back in.” His eyes widened. “I wasn’t out of the car for more than five seconds, Zane.”
Zane had a strict rule about getting out of a patrol car with the motor running. “I’m not concerned about that right now, Kenny. But don’t do it again.”
“Did you check on Bob before you left?” Stevie asked.
“I did.” Kenny nodded vigorously. “I told him I had to run out for a bit. He told me to fuck off, so I know he was fine.” Shock crossed his face. “Oh my God. This is all my fault, isn’t it? If I hadn’t left, Bob would still be alive.”
“It’s not your fault, Kenny. I don’t think this person would have let you stand in their way. You might have been killed too. What time did the call from the motel come in?”
“I logged the call just after ten,” said Kenny. “And I left within a few minutes of that.”
“Does anyone on this street have cameras?” Zane asked with a bit of exasperation, already knowing the answer.
“Not that I’m aware of,” said Kenny. “Too expensive, and you know as well as I do that not enough happens around here to warrant that sort of expense.”
Zane did know that. He’d never lived in such a quiet little town until he joined the Solitude PD five years earlier.
But three murders within a few days of one another? His gut said that Bob had killed both women, but who would dare sneak into the police station to kill Bob?
One of the victims’ unhappy family members?
“Someone was waiting and watching,” Stevie commented. “Bob was just processed yesterday. They didn’t have to wait too long.”
“Shit. I’m glad Sheila wasn’t here alone,” said Zane.
“Sheila can take care of herself,” said Kenny. “You know she keeps a .38 in her top drawer, right?”
“Very true,” said Zane. Kenny had a point. Zane had heard about Sheila’s sharp skills on the firing range, but that didn’t mean she would fire at another human. Especially one she knew.
“I saw the fingerprinting dust on the door handles out front,” said Kenny. “You’ve already collected the evidence?”
“I have,” said Stevie. “Zane was interviewing Sheila. Did you tell the morgue wagon driver we needed them here after they removed Vanessa from the motel? Hank is already finished with Bob.”
“They’re out front,” Kenny said. He looked at his feet. “How bad is . . . Bob?”
Zane studied the cop. Kenny was only five years younger than he was, but sometimes it felt like twenty. Right now he looked like a kid who just realized he’d forgotten to feed his dog for three days. “Pretty bad, Kenny. I don’t see any reason you need to go in there.”
“Am I on suspension, Zane?” Kenny peered at Zane as if afraid to make eye contact. “I understand if that’s what you need to do.”
Punishing Kenny would be like kicking that hungry dog. Zane silently sighed. “Seeing as you did lock the door, I don’t need to suspend you. I’m not happy that you left your patrol car running, but not enough to dismiss you for a few days.”
He didn’t have the manpower to cover Kenny’s shifts.
Kenny’s shoulders slumped. “Thanks, Zane.”
Voices sounded in the front lobby. The morgue crew. Zane stood. Time to get something done. He had too many murders on his desk.
“Can you supervise the removal?” he asked Stevie. She nodded and headed to the lobby.
“You know Amber Lynn’s parents?” Zane asked Kenny.
“Yep. Dana and Tony. He’s the stepdad, I believe. He’s been in a few times. Usually on a drunk and disorderly.”
“We have his prints?”
“No doubt,” said Kenny. “He’s a hothead. You think he killed Bob?” His voice cracked as his eyes grew wide.
Zane counted to ten. “I don’t know. Bob killed their daughter, so I’ll be talking with them. But first I need to call the police department of Vanessa Phillips’s hometown and have them notify her parents.”
It was a phone call he didn’t want to make. Christmas would never be the same for Vanessa Phillips’s family.
Late that evening Stevie looked up from Sheila’s desk as her brother James stepped through the front door of the police station. His expression rivaled one of Ebenezer Scrooge’s.
“What the hell is going on, Stevie?” James said. He stomped the snow off his boots and unwrapped his scarf. “It’s Christmas.”
“I know.” The morgue crew had finally removed Bob’s body, and she’d spent a few hours collecting more evidence and cleaning up the holding cell. It’d been too much blood for her stomach. The human body could hold a lot of blood and it appeared most of Bob’s had ended up on the floor. Her happy, family-filled morning felt like it had occurred months ago.
“Six townspeople have called me,” James stated. “I’ve tried to control the gossip, but you know how it gets. One of them said they heard the girl at the hotel was killed in a satanic ritual.” He rolled his eyes. “You should have heard him. He was more upset that I’d allowed the occult in our town instead of expressing some concern for that girl and her family. No family needs this to happen on any day, especially Christmas.”
“I hope you set him straight, Mr. Mayor.”
“Damn right I did.” Her brother paused and took a deep breath. “Tell me what happened.”
Stevie gave him an abbreviated version of the deaths.
“You said Vanessa Phillips was from the coast? And attended college up in Eugene?” he asked.
“Graduate studies in fish and wildlife.”
“Why was she staying at the Wayward Motel?” James shook his head. “That’s not a good place for a single female.”
“I can understand her stopping for one night if she was on a tight budget,” said Stevie. “But why four? Her parents live less than an hour from here. She could have made it home in one trip.”
“Maybe she’d planned to visit the fish hatchery up the river or do some sort of research. This would be the right location for her area of study,” said James. “I assume you asked Charlie if she was alone?”
“We have. She was alone and Kenny went back there to interview the other motel guests. Someone besides Charlie must have seen her that first day.”
“Hey, James.” Zane appeared from his office. “Your boys come off their holiday sugar hi
gh yet?”
“That’s part of the reason I left the house. Debra can tune them out, but I can’t hear myself think. And like I was telling Stevie . . . I’m getting calls, and I don’t want my kids to hear me discuss murder on the phone. What do you want me to tell people?”
“Tell them the investigation is ongoing,” answered Zane, his face carefully blank.
“Come on, Zane. They’re making up their own stories and it’s getting out of hand. I need something with a little more meat to throw them.”
Zane folded his arms. “No comment.”
Both men looked at Stevie.
“Don’t pull me into the middle of this,” she ordered. James might be her big brother and the mayor, but police business fell firmly under Zane’s jurisdiction.
“Vanessa Phillips’s parents are going to be here any minute,” said Zane.
“They drove in during this horrible weather?” said James. “Surely you could have just talked to them on the phone?”
“They insisted,” said Stevie. Zane had notified the Phillipses’ hometown police office and asked them to inform the parents in person about the death of their daughter. Understandably they’d been devastated, but had wanted to travel to Solitude to be close to their daughter, relying on one of Vanessa’s siblings to drive them.
“Who else are you interviewing for the Phillips murder?” James asked.
“Do you have a suggestion?” Zane’s voice was cool, and Stevie knew he felt her brother was stepping over his mayoral bounds.
James realized his mistake and held up his hands. “Forget it. Do your thing and keep me updated. I’ll let you know what I hear through the city grapevine.”
“Tell people not to jump to conclusions,” said Stevie, knowing her words were pointless. Gossip and speculation were dietary proteins for small rural towns like Solitude. James rolled his eyes.
Small Town Rule #3: No one gossips about people’s virtues.
“I’ll be in my office for a while if you need me,” said James, heading toward the back door that led to the city council annex.
Stevie glanced at the clock on the wall. It was nearly eight p.m. “I feel like this day should have been finished twelve hours ago. I really wish the Phillipses had waited until tomorrow. I’d like to have more information to give them.” So far, heartache and apologies were all Solitude had to share with them.
A car door slammed outside, and Zane squared his shoulders. Her heart went out to him. For a big, tough-looking cop, he was a bit mushy on the inside, and talking to the parents wouldn’t be easy. He took the crimes that happened in his town very seriously; her father had been the same way. It was a good quality for a chief to have, but he also had to know where to draw the line between his personal life and his work life.
In the seven months she’d been dating Zane, she’d learned the police chief position fit him like a second skin. Outside of the office, he was proving to be a man she could easily spend the rest of her life with. Patsy believed Zane was the one for her daughter, but Stevie was taking it slow, afraid of making a mistake. Last summer she’d refused to move in with him, but over the last few months, 90 percent of her clothing had migrated to his closet.
Maybe it was time to give up her apartment. Zane hadn’t mentioned her moving in since July, but he’d tripled the size of his cabin’s closet and added enough shelves and drawers to make a Beverly Hills housewife happy.
Sometimes Stevie felt like Patsy and Zane knew exactly what her future held and were simply waiting for her to open her eyes.
Soon.
Maybe.
CHAPTER THREE
Five minutes later Stevie and Zane faced Kay and Gerhard Phillips and their son, Ryan, over a small conference room table. Zane thought the parents looked as if they’d been awake for five days. Exhaustion and sorrow lined every groove in their faces. Ryan appeared to be in his late twenties and had blond hair like his sister. Anger spewed through his gaze and words.
“How can you have no leads?” His blue eyes glared at Stevie.
Zane’s defenses mentally stood up. Ryan could funnel all the anger he wanted at Zane, but Stevie was off-limits.
Stevie leaned forward, holding Ryan’s attention. “That’s not what we said.”
Stevie’s tone was soft and understanding on the outside, but inside was a steel core that warned Ryan to watch his step. She used it when she was pissed but holding tight to her temper. Zane knew to step carefully when that tone was aimed his way. He reconsidered his defensive reaction of a few seconds ago; Stevie was perfectly capable of handling Ryan Phillips.
“It’s the first day,” she continued in the same tone. “The autopsy isn’t until tomorrow and we haven’t completed the motel interviews.”
“Then why are you just sitting here? You should be searching for my sister’s killer.” Venom laced his voice.
“Ryan!” Kay snapped at her son. “They’re doing what they can.”
“We’re taking the time to update you,” said Zane. “Rest assured we’ll do everything we can to find out who did this to Vanessa.”
“I heard another woman her age died here last week,” said Ryan in a slightly calmer voice. “Are the murders related?”
“We’re considering that,” said Zane. He paused, weighing how much to tell the family. So far Gerhard Phillips was the silent one of the family, but the pain in his eyes spoke louder than Ryan’s anger. He met Zane’s gaze, waiting and watching.
He knows I’m holding something back.
Zane plunged forward. “We had a confession yesterday in the first woman’s murder. The suspect died before we could interview him about Vanessa.”
Three pairs of confused eyes stared at him. “Died how?” Kay asked.
“He was murdered. But we’ll take a hard look to see if he was connected to your daughter’s death.”
“Did you know Vanessa was here in Solitude?” Stevie deftly seized control of the interview.
“No,” said Kay, shaking her pale-blonde curls. “She’d told us she couldn’t make it home for Christmas. I don’t know why she was here. I thought she was going to Seattle to do some research.”
“She had gifts with your names on them in her motel room,” Stevie said quietly. “She was headed home to surprise you.”
Tears rolled down Kay’s cheeks, and Zane saw the resemblance to her daughter’s driver’s license picture. Her husband tightened his grip on Kay’s hands.
“That sounds like her. She’s very impulsive,” said Kay. “She changes plans on a moment’s notice and loves to surprise people.”
“Was she seeing anyone?” Stevie asked delicately. “Was she in a relationship where they might have planned to meet here for a few days?”
Zane leaned back in his chair, letting Stevie handle the questions. The Wayward Motel wouldn’t have been his first choice for a romantic getaway, but he understood students on a budget.
The three of them shook their heads. “She hasn’t dated anyone since summer,” said Kay. “At least not that I know of. Usually she tells me when she’s seeing someone seriously.”
That didn’t rule out a romantic encounter in Zane’s book.
“Was she raped?” Ryan spit out.
“Ryan!” Kay fanned her face. Gerhard looked ready to vomit.
“We don’t know the answer to that,” Stevie said quickly. “We’ll know more tomorrow. I’m really sorry we don’t have more answers for you right now.”
“Where’s a good place to stay for a few days?” asked Gerhard, speaking for the first time. “We don’t want to drive back tonight, and we’re hoping for some more information from you soon.”
Zane cringed. Motels were scarce. How could he send them to the Wayward?
“I made a call,” said Stevie. “Dixie’s Bed and Breakfast is usually closed this time of year, but she’s got two rooms set
up and waiting for you.”
Relief flowed over Zane. At least Stevie had been thinking ahead.
She gave them directions to the B&B and a calm fell over the station as the family left.
“Good call on Dixie’s place,” said Zane. “When the father asked about a motel, I wanted to hit my head on the table. Can you imagine having to stay in the motel where your daughter was discovered?”
“My imagination works too well,” said Stevie. “That’s why I reached out to Dixie.” Her shoulders slumped. “That poor family. So much pain and anger. And they have the right to feel that way.”
“The brother has a temper,” observed Zane.
“I don’t blame him. You can’t judge anyone by how they react to the death of a family member. There’s no right reaction.”
Zane pulled her tight to him and rested his cheek against her hair. She still smelled of cinnamon and holidays.
“Come home with me,” he whispered. “I need you tonight.”
He felt her melt into him, and she nuzzled his neck. “I’m ready to put this day behind us.”
“Me too. There’s some Magic at my place.”
She laughed, as he’d hoped, and he felt her chest vibrate against his. “You mean Magic is waiting to be let out.” Stevie’s rescue dog had decided she liked Zane’s cabin. Zane didn’t mind. Magic was an enthusiastic greeter on the nights when he went home alone. He believed that, like him, the dog was biding her time, waiting for Stevie to see the light and move in with them.
He was willing to wait forever, but he wished she’d hurry up.
The next morning Zane scoured Kenny’s interview notes. Kenny had managed to interview every guest at the motel except for one. Andrew Reynolds. The property developer from out of town who hoped to buy what was left of the O’Rourke resort. All that stood on the O’Rourkes’ acreage was the burned-out shell of a lodge and a few half-finished cabins.
Zane knew Andrew Reynolds wanted to build a corporate retreat at the location. What he didn’t understand was why the businessman hadn’t gone home for Christmas. Who chose to stay at the Wayward Motel for the holidays? Kenny’s notes said Mr. Reynolds had been visibly drunk when Kenny knocked on his door. The man had cursed at him and told him to get lost. Kenny had noted the alcohol fumes and slurred speech and suggested a visit when Mr. Reynolds was capable of answering questions coherently.
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