by Nicole Helm
“You want to leave?”
“No, not this. I mean maybe I’m going about Paula all wrong. I assumed whoever she was cheating with was someone from our present, but I never thought about her past. She wanted to stay in Bent. When we decided to move here, she said she just loved home. This whole time I’ve been thinking the affair happened later in our marriage, but...”
It made his stomach roil, but if he could be betrayed later, why not always? “Maybe it was going on all along. Maybe the connection to this guy isn’t one I ever knew or even considered, because maybe it’s from her life in Bent before I came along.”
“An ex-boyfriend?” Gracie mused.
“It’s possible. I met her in Colorado when she was in college. She was the one who came up with the blacksmith shop idea for me, and suggested I move here. That’s when we got married. I didn’t know much about her life before that. We didn’t dwell on the past, but she wanted to live here. I liked it, too. It was fine with me.”
Surely she’d married him because she’d loved him. Surely the affair didn’t go back all the way to the beginning of their lives here.
One way or another, he had to find out. Paula was gone. Someone had killed her. Someone was after Gracie and him. He couldn’t shy away from the emotional wounds the way he had been doing.
He nodded his chin toward the front desk, where a middle-aged woman in a bright red wig sat, a cigarette dangling from her lips. As the door closed behind them, she made a half-hearted attempt at hiding the cigarette.
“How long you want?” she asked brusquely.
“How long?” Gracie muttered confusedly, further proving to Will just how naive she was.
“How much for a whole night?”
“Big spender, eh?” the woman said with a raspy laugh. “Thirty.”
Will went for his pocket before he remembered he had nothing, including no wallet or ID since they hadn’t been recovered from his accident.
“Here,” Gracie said, sliding two twenties onto the sticky counter. “For tonight and a few hours tomorrow.”
“My, my,” the woman said with a wink. “Can’t say as I blame you.” She took the cash, then without getting out of her chair or even looking, reached back and pulled a key off a row of hooks. She put it on the grimy counter and slid it toward them. “Here you go. Get out by noon tomorrow or I’ll charge extra.”
Gracie looked at the key like it would bite, so Will pocketed it. “Before we go to our room, can I ask you a question?”
The woman eyed him suspiciously. “You know, someone warned me this morning about anybody asking questions.”
Will exchanged a surprised look with Gracie. It had to be connected. Had to be. “What exactly did he say?”
She held up a hand, her nails painted the same red as her wig. She rubbed her thumb against her fingers. “He said a few Benjamin Franklins.”
“How many would it take for you to tell us about this warning?”
“I’ll be generous since you’re easy on the eyes, sweetheart. A thousand.”
He didn’t particularly want to part with that kind of money, but the bigger issue was accessing it. No ID, no cards.
“I don’t suppose I could appeal to your moral compass and have you answer some question about a murdered woman?”
She narrowed her eyes. “What murdered woman?”
“Paula Cooper. She died in a car accident two years ago on the curve of Highway 61 near Bent.”
The woman studied Will for quite a few minutes. She even took a drag of her cigarette before she answered. “Car accident. That ain’t murder.”
“It is if it was caused by someone purposely.”
The woman’s sharp gaze dropped to his casted arm. “That what happened to you?”
“Someone tampered with my car after I found evidence my wife was killed. I don’t consider it a coincidence. If you know something and you’re keeping it from me, you can be charged with being an accessory to a murder once they figure this all out.” He wasn’t sure that was true, but it was a decent enough threat. “Because I will find out who did this. I will make sure the full extent of the law crushes every person who had anything to do with her murder no matter how peripherally.”
“Pretty big talk for a man whose dead wife was stepping out on him.”
Which he hadn’t mentioned. At all. Will’s heartbeat picked up. “She came in here, didn’t she? With another man?”
The woman shrugged then sighed heavily, dropping her cigarette butt into an overflowing ashtray. “I shouldn’t say anything, but I didn’t care for those threats I got this morning. I don’t know much about much. But I saw the girl who got killed in that car accident quite a few times here with a man and they’d go into a room. But he wasn’t the man who came to see me this morning, the man who used to hang around while they did it. I never trusted that man.”
“Why?”
“Sometimes my daughters work here. Didn’t like the way he looked at them. Didn’t like the insinuations he made about them in my hearing. Got so bad I stopped scheduling them on Wednesdays because that’s when he’d always be here waiting for them. Watching them.”
Wednesdays. The computer and the days and Wednesdays. Will leaned across the counter, which had the woman edging back.
“Who is he?” Will demanded.
“Don’t know. Just came and skulked around. Guy she came with, don’t know him, either. Always paid in cash. Pretty nondescript looking guy. Middle-aged. Hair wasn’t brown or blond, somewhere in between. No facial hair, no scars, no tattoos. The watcher, though... Usually all bundled up. Couldn’t tell what he looked like, but scary guy.”
“What else? Surely if you paid that much attention you know more than that.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Maybe I do. But any more costs you.”
“Look—”
“You come back with a grand and I’ll tell you what I know. It might get you what you want.”
Will shared a look with Gracie. She shrugged. He fingered the key in his pocket. He hated to walk away, but threatening her wouldn’t do any good, clearly. “Thank you. I’ll be back with the money.” He’d figure out something. He had to.
He strode to the door and once outside, he started for the room number on the key he’d been given.
“What are you doing?” Gracie asked, standing next to the front office door still. “We need to go get that money.”
“How? We can’t go back to Bent and I don’t have any of my cards anyway. We need to plan first. We’ll head to the room and figure something out.”
She clearly didn’t care for that idea, but she followed him nonetheless.
Chapter Eight
Gracie didn’t know how to explain this nervous roil in her gut. Something about being in a room that was clearly not meant for sleeping made her very, very, very uncomfortable.
By the hour.
She knew what that meant, what people did in these kinds of motels. Maybe she was sheltered enough to be a little shocked by such a thing, but she wasn’t stupid. At least that’s what she was trying to convince herself of.
She was not stupid, and it mattered not at all that Will and her were alone in this room meant for...
She should be thinking about how awful this must be for Will. To stand here and know your wife had come to this seedy, disgusting place only to sleep with another man. And be watched by yet another man. It was too much and too gross.
Gracie wished she had the words to comfort Will, but he seemed more like a man on a mission again. The old Will, whose entire mind was consumed with Paula’s crash.
It was stupid to be disappointed, considering he’d apparently been right this whole time. It was clear he had every reason to be somewhat obsessed with the matter again. They were in danger, and she was a foolish little girl for expecting anything to eve
r be any different.
“My cousin runs the bank,” she said into the quiet of the smelly room. “I could call him, but I have a feeling Cam and Laurel told the whole family not to do anything for me after I stole Cam’s truck. Maybe we should have Laurel question that woman. She might be more forthcoming to a police officer.”
“I don’t know her, Gracie, but I’m gonna guess money is more of a motivator than a county deputy.”
He had a point, but she couldn’t shake the terrible feeling in her gut. They shouldn’t be here. Something was off and wrong.
“So, where can we come up with a thousand dollars? My checkbook is back home, and I only have a twenty left. If we go to the bank or an ATM in Fairmont someone is going to see us and stop us. There’s no way Laurel doesn’t have the county on the lookout for Cam’s truck since I technically stole it.”
“A cab. I can take a cab. A twenty could get me to Fairmont, don’t you think?”
“Maybe.” She sighed, digging her wallet out of her purse. “I’ve got my credit card if it takes more. I’ve got enough in my checking account. We should be able to withdraw a grand. We’ll just have to use whatever ATM is closest to the highway. Still, it’s a safer bet than heading back to Bent.”
“You’re right. But I think it’s safer if I go and you stay here.”
“I don’t think we should split up.” That bad feeling dug in deeper and she hugged herself trying to ward it off. “I don’t want to split up.”
“I don’t want to, either,” Will said gently. “But I think it’s the safest way. If I get caught, they can’t do anything to me. All I did was leave a hospital. You technically stole a truck, and I think they’d use that against you if it meant they could keep an eye on you.”
He was right. It sucked, but he was right. Laurel would no doubt throw her in a cell to keep her safe.
“Will—”
But he railroaded right on. “I’ll call a cab. Take it to Fairmont. I’ll be gone an hour tops and I’ll be back with the money and we’ll get our answers. We could have this solved by tonight. I’ll pay you back as soon as—”
“I don’t care about the money. I care about... What if something goes wrong?”
Will turned to her and gently placed his good hand on her shoulder and squeezed. He looked right into her eyes, certainty and confidence stamped into his expression. “You stay put. The worst thing that happens is your cousins find you and if they do, well, at least you’ll be safe.”
“When are you going to understand I want you safe, too?” she asked, not sure why her voice came out a whisper or why she thought it would be a good idea to step closer to him.
But he didn’t step away, and his hand was still on her shoulder, and for a second she saw a glimpse of what she’d seen in that hospital room. Something different than that laser-beam focus.
But then he shook his head and stepped away, his hand sliding off her shoulder. “We’ll both be safe and careful. We have to do this. There isn’t another option. This is the first lead we’ve had. Until Laurel finds something from that text message to you, we have to keep working on our own. I can’t wait around. We can’t wait. We all have to be working toward figuring this out, and like you said in the hospital, we can bend the rules. Maybe with the police department going by the book, and us not, we’ll meet in the middle. But we can’t stop or wait.”
He was right, of course, horrible gut feeling aside. But what was a gut feeling? Wasn’t it just worry—and of course she was worried. There was nothing to not worry about in this whole situation.
There were no other options. They needed money and they needed to know what that woman knew. Much as Gracie wanted to be skeptical, Gracie had believed the woman’s story. She’d known some, and she still knew more. They needed that information.
“Just don’t get hurt. Or caught. Or... Just be careful.” She swallowed, refusing to give in to the urge to reach out and touch him. She was being overdramatic and so was her gut.
Will called the Fairmont cab company, outlining his plan multiple times while they waited for it to show up. Will stood at the grimy window. “There he is.”
He strode for the door, but before he disappeared out of it he stopped and looked back at her. He gave her another one of those weird new looks she wanted to read into, but kept telling herself not to because she was too old to be a mooning idiot.
“Lock the door. Don’t open it for anyone. If I’m not back by nightfall, you call Cam or Laurel to pick you up. I don’t want you here alone at night. Got it?”
She nodded, but she didn’t promise. Because she wasn’t about to promise anything if he didn’t come back.
* * *
WILL SAT LOW in the back of the cab. He had his hood up, trying to obscure as much of his face as possible from the cab driver. He spent the whole drive focusing on Paula and what little he remembered her telling him about her adolescence in Bent.
If he didn’t focus on that, he’d focus on Gracie saying I don’t want to split up, and the way she’d looked at him pleadingly. He’d wanted to give in to that. He’d wanted to give in to too much, and none of it made sense.
Finding Paula’s killer was the only sense he could focus on.
Everything in Fairmont went smoothly. The cab took him to the closest bank, waited for him while he walked up to the ATM. He typed in the PIN Gracie had given him and the cash came out without a hitch. Driving back to the hotel, there wasn’t so much as a slowdown for wildlife.
Dread pooled in his stomach. He couldn’t label this feeling or make sense of it, but it was persistent. Like working on his last ironwork project and knowing it had been all wrong even as he’d gone through all the right steps.
The cab pulled into the lot of the motel and Will scanned the area before he got out. It looked as empty as it had when he’d left. Fat snowflakes were falling from the gray sky and Will struggled to get out of the cab after paying the driver.
He huddled in the oversize coat and trudged toward the room he’d left Gracie in. He had the fleeting thought he should just go talk to the motel lady himself, but with this awful feeling in his gut, he had to make sure Gracie was okay.
She’d been right when she’d said they should stick together. Being apart gave too much room to worry when he had to be thinking and focusing on this whole thing. He wanted to believe Laurel would find something this time, but how could he trust the woman when she and her department had ruled Paula’s death an accident?
He knocked on the door, then moved so Gracie would be able to see him out of the peephole, assuming it worked.
She pulled the door open, eyes immediately darting around the lot, as well. “That was quick.”
“Everything went just as it should have.” He patted his coat pocket. “Let’s go talk to her.”
She nodded, but he could tell she had that same gut feeling he did. This heavy certainty of impending doom. But there was no way to get rid of that aside from continuing to move forward.
Gracie locked the door and they walked side by side to the front office. It didn’t escape his notice they both spent a lot of the time looking around the parking lot as if someone would jump out of the trees or mountains and take them both out.
Gracie stopped short and held her hand out to stop him, too. “Will.” She nodded toward the door to the front office.
The window was broken out, when it certainly hadn’t been an hour or so ago.
Will swallowed. “Stay here. Call the police.”
“No. I call the police and you stay here with me. We can’t split up. Everything is all wrong.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket and kept her grip on his good arm.
“Don’t give them your name. As soon as we make sure she’s okay, we’re out of here,” he murmured as she dialed 911.
She nodded and spoke in low tones to the 911 operator claiming of a break-in at the
motel and possible threats and refusing to give her name before she ended the call.
“We have to check to make sure she’s okay,” Will said. “We can’t wait for the cops.”
Gracie nodded and they edged forward together. They didn’t speak as they moved against the wall of the office. Gracie tried to push forward, but even with the broken arm Will blocked her out, keeping her behind him.
She huffed out an irritated breath, but he ignored it. He glanced back at her when they reached the door, a nonverbal stay put.
He wasn’t great on reading other people’s nonverbal communications, but he was pretty sure the look Gracie gave him was in your dreams.
Will used his good arm to reach forward and give the door a push to see if it would give. When it did, both he and Gracie flinched and froze.
But the door merely squeaked one way, and then clicked back closed. They waited, painfully, to see if someone would come out. If something would happen.
“We have to go in,” Will whispered. “She could be hurt.”
Gracie nodded soundlessly. So, this time, Will reached out for the knob. He twisted and threw the door completely open. When nothing happened again, he moved into the space of the open door.
Gracie was at his heels, but the room was empty. Completely empty.
“Something’s wrong,” Gracie whispered.
That’s when Will heard a movement and something that could be classified only as a groan. They both hurried toward the front desk, and behind it, sprawled on the floor, was the poor woman from earlier.
They both hopped the desk, kneeling next to the woman. She had a horrible bruise blooming across her cheek and temple, but her eyes fluttered open.
“Ma’am. What happened? What hurts?” Will asked, grabbing her hand. He didn’t know how to check for a pulse or what to do in a medical emergency, but it seemed right to give her some kind of human connection.
She groaned again, trying to move, but Gracie urged her to remain still.
“Didn’t tell ’em anything,” she said, proving she was at least a little with it.