Dead in Her Tracks (Rogue Winter #2)(7)

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.

That pleasurable task was on Zane’s to-do list.

The rest of the interviews had been unremarkable. Six other rooms had been occupied the night before Vanessa was found. Besides Andrew Reynolds, the occupants were long-haul truckers. None of them had seen anyone resembling Vanessa Phillips during their stays. Kenny had run some background checks and discovered one of them was a registered sex offender. Tim Sessions. Zane studied the man’s photo. He looked like an eighth-grade science teacher.

Is this our guy?

His desk phone rang and Hank’s gravelly voice greeted him. “Merry day after Christmas, Zane. I hope you don’t have any more bodies for me yet.”

“Not yet.”

“Good. Let’s keep it that way.”

“Are you done already?” Zane asked.

“I’ve finished Vanessa Phillips. I had a hard time getting that girl out of my mind last night. I came in early to get things moving.”

Zane grabbed a pencil and note pad. “You found something?”

Hank sighed. “The girl was raped. Several times. And it was really rough. She’s got some heavy abrasions on her wrists and ankles, so she was bound at some point.”

“Semen?”

“Nope. Nothing like that. Someone tried real hard to cover his tracks. They thought ahead enough to wear a condom and clean her up with bleach after.”

“But . . .” Zane could hear the medical examiner had found something.

“She was drugged too. Can’t tell you exactly what was in her system. I had to send it out to a lab, but there was enough to give readings on my machine. I’ll warn you it was weak. I think she ingested it several days ago, and I don’t know if we’ll get anything useful back from the lab.”

“What about time of death?”

“She was strangled about twenty-four hours before she was found yesterday.”

Morning of the twenty-fourth.

“Her decay was significantly progressed. She wasn’t kept anywhere cold like outdoors for those twenty-four hours. I’ll speculate she was in a place that was at a comfortable room temperature.”

Zane made a note. “Strangulation is the official cause of death?”

“Yep. And she was moved to the motel quite a while after she died. The livor mortis doesn’t match the position she was found in.”

“Got it,” said Zane, knowing he meant that the blood in Vanessa’s body had formed dark marks on her skin, indicating how her body had been positioned after death. “We were pretty certain she hadn’t died there. I’m looking over Kenny’s interviews from last night and he talked to the housekeeper again. Turns out the towels in Vanessa’s room hadn’t needed to be replaced during any of the days she was there. Her luggage and things were in the room, so the maid knew it was occupied, but I don’t think Vanessa slept in there at all. It lines up with the timing of Bob Fletcher being filmed while putting a woman in the back of his vehicle. It’s looking more and more like he took Vanessa.”