When You See Me (Detective D.D. Warren #11)(74)

D.D. glares at me.

“What exactly is the problem?” Kimberly again.

“Umm . . . No hot water! Can’t have rooms without hot water.”

“Perfect. I’ll make a call. We’ll get that fixed for you right away. Consider it a sign of our appreciation.”

The manager stands there, stupefied. “And . . . and . . . my computers are down. I can’t check anyone in. No computers, no service.”

“I can fix that,” Keith speaks up.

The man looks like he wants to cry. Or flee. Or both. “Please?” he tries.

“No.”

D.D., who has been quiet this whole time, finally speaks. “Who asked you to send us away?”

The man’s face twists. His hands return to their frantic clasping and unclasping. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Then consider this our real gift to you.” Kimberly touches the man’s arm. “We won’t press, for now. You can tell whoever demanded our departure that the police pulled rank. There was nothing you could do. And you can also tell your boss if he has a problem with our presence, feel free to contact us directly. Now, I’m going to go shower.” She pulls out her room key. “Debrief in an hour.” She stares at me. “I’m sorry, did you say you met Jacob Ness’s father?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you’ll have much to share at the meeting.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I inform her.

Kimberly heads down the hall. I wait for D.D. to follow, but she and her new charge just stare at me.

“You two have adjoining rooms?” D.D. asks Keith and me.

Of course, she would know that.

Keith nods.

“I’m taking them. For Bonita and me. She can’t be alone. She’s a material witness.”

“Bonita?” Keith asks.

D.D. gestures to the girl. “She used to work at the Mountain Laurel B and B. Now she’s with us.”

“Where do Keith and I go?” I ask, still processing the room change.

“You two can have my space.” She smiles knowingly. Meddler.

“I can get a cot,” Keith offers.

“No, no, no,” the owner protests immediately. “No cots. You shouldn’t even have rooms!”

Fuck Kimberly and her dog-on-a-leash comment. I reach down, pull out my butterfly blade, and make a show of flipping it open, closed, open, closed.

“You may have a cot!” the man squeaks.

But then I glance at the young maid. Her face has gone bone white. Her eyes are round with fear and she is staring at my knife in horror.

I quickly put it away, but not before I see her touch her forearm, where the cuff of her sleeve has ridden up, and an intricate pattern of scars dances across her exposed skin.

I don’t feel strong anymore.

I feel shame.

For being what a monster made me.

I head down the hall before any of them see me cry.





CHAPTER 30





KIMBERLY





NO LASAGNA OR CHOCOLATE TRIFLE from the church ladies tonight. Instead, the sheriff’s conference room featured trays of deli sandwiches, a couple of neglected salads, and a table full of assorted beverages, most heavy on the caffeine. Franny bustled about, clearing empty plates onto a giant serving platter she effortlessly hefted from table to table, while smiling so brightly she looked like a cross between June Cleaver and a mental patient. Around the U-shaped tables, investigators booted up computers while shoveling food into their mouths.

Kimberly took a moment to gauge the overall mood. Tired but wired, she decided. She walked through the door, Flora and Keith in tow. She went with a turkey sub, a pile of green salad, and a Diet Coke. Then she took the open chair next to Sheriff Smithers. Of all of them, he looked the worse for wear. Kimberly and her crew had no ties to this area, whereas for the sheriff this was all personal.

He gave her a nod, chewed absently.

“Howard Counsel settled?” Kimberly murmured.

“Got him in a holding cell, deputy on watch.”

“I’m sorry,” she offered.

The sheriff looked at her. “Bad things happening around here. Bad things. Feels like I don’t know this place anymore.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“Phone’s starting to ring off the hook. People want reassurances that their community is safe and the problem solved. Hell, I’m more confused than I was yesterday, though of course I can’t tell them that.”

“Lying is part of policing,” Kimberly assured him.

“Except, I want to know my county is safe, as well. Only a matter of time before the press arrives. I can’t believe we’ve been lucky this long.”

“With the ME returning to Atlanta with three more bodies, our time is probably running out,” Kimberly agreed.

The sheriff closed his eyes. “You really think Martha Counsel hanged herself?”

“No.”

“Someone else did it. Not her husband. I don’t believe that for a moment. Meaning there’s another threat out there. One we haven’t identified yet.”

Kimberly eyed the man with genuine sympathy. She understood his stress and strain. Their current situation had just gone from one body to five, from a cold case to a fresh murder. Nothing about this was good, especially for the local cop.