Dead in Her Tracks (Rogue Winter #2)(12)

“That’s not my problem. How can it be hurting business when you’re the only motel for miles? How about you replace the sinks and bedspreads? Update the rooms a bit. Stop charging everyone for Wi-Fi. That’d help your business.”

“You don’t know anything about the business of running a motel.”

Zane closed his eyes, took two deep breaths, and opened them, staring hard at Charlie. “Do you have any news for me? Anything about Vanessa Phillips?”

“No.”

“Then I’ll get to work. A business I do know something about.” He strode out of the lobby and barely kept himself from slamming the door. Charlie hadn’t cleared the snow from the motel walkways, and Zane had to step carefully. He hoped someone slipped and sued.

Room 127 was occupied by Tim Sessions, the trucker with the sexual assault record. According to Kenny’s information, Tim had checked in on December twenty-third and was still staying at the motel. Tim had answered all of Kenny’s questions on Christmas Day, and claimed he hadn’t seen or heard anything unusual until the cops showed up. It was the standard answer Kenny got from everyone. Tim’s room was next door to the unit where Vanessa had been found.

Zane knocked and the door opened promptly. No waft of alcohol spilled out. Instead Zane was greeted with a little too much Old Spice. Tim Sessions was dressed in jeans and cowboy boots. Zane knew he was twenty-eight. He looked like a young, all-American rodeo champion. Not a sex offender.

“I figured you guys would be back as soon as you ran me through the system,” Tim said, holding out his hand to Zane.

“You know why I’m here then,” said Zane. Tim had a strong handshake, his hands heavily callused. A working man’s hands.

“I know what’s on my record. As soon as I heard about that girl next door, I knew I’d get more questions. Seems logical.”

Zane relaxed the tiniest bit but didn’t let down his guard. He’d met some awfully good liars in his line of work. “This will just take a minute.”

Tim let him inside. The only indication that anyone had stayed there was a water glass and a novel on Tim’s nightstand. The room was immaculate. Except for the standard thinning carpet and frayed bedspread.

“Did you see Vanessa Phillips at all?” Zane held out the photo.

Tim took the picture and shook his head. “I didn’t know anyone had occupied the next room. The only women I’d seen around here were the housekeepers and the waitstaff at the bar across the parking lot.” He looked up at Zane. “She was killed in the room next door?”

“We don’t think that’s the murder site, but she was found there. What brings you to town?”

“Just passing through.”

Zane lifted an eyebrow and waited. People who were just passing through didn’t stay for four days. Especially truckers.

“Well, I was passing through until I got sick. I was only going to stay the one night, but I came down with some nasty food poisoning or flu. Today’s the first day I’ve felt human. I think it might have been the shrimp I ate at the bar. Good thing I wasn’t in the middle of a job.”

“You missed Christmas?”

“Yeah, I talked to my mom on the phone. I was headed their way for the holiday. They live in Leggett.”

Zane shook his head. “Don’t know it.”

“South of here in Northern California. Redwood country.”

“Then you weren’t too far from home.”

“Too far to drive in that crappy weather with my gut acting the way it was.”

He looked pretty healthy to Zane. “Tell me about your record.”

Tim looked away, his expression going blank. “She was seventeen. Told me she was nineteen.” He turned back to Zane, his gaze hardening. “We were in love, but her daddy didn’t like it, so he reported me. I was twenty and that made it illegal. End of relationship and end of story.”

Zane was silent. Not what I expected to hear.

“You’ll be paying the consequences for a long time,” he finally said.

“Tell me about it.” Bitterness rang in the young man’s tone for the first time.

“What’s she doing these days?” Zane couldn’t help but ask.

A wry smile twisted Tim’s lips. “Married with three kids. White picket fence. And a drinking problem.”

“I think you’ll land on your feet,” Zane said.

“It’s been eight years. I’m ready for some solid footing.”

Zane ended the interview and sat in his car for a few minutes. He’d been twenty and had dated a younger girl. He’d definitely been young and dumb but at least he had walked away without any consequences. He could see himself in Tim Sessions’s boots.

He mentally moved Tim down a few slots on his suspect list.



“We’ve got a situation at Fletcher’s Bar!” Sheila hollered at Stevie in the police station.

Stevie looked up from the notes she’d been writing from her interview with Tony and Dana that morning. She glanced at the clock and realized she’d missed dinner. “Where’s Zane?” she shouted back.

“He’s right in the middle of it.”

“Shit.” Apparently she wasn’t the only one who’d missed dinner.