The Sun Down Motel(90)

Just after one a.m. on November 30 was an incoming call. The record didn’t show which room it was routed to, if any. Heather had circled the number the call came from and written a question mark next to it. That meant she hadn’t been able to identify the number.

At 1:54 a.m. was an outgoing call. Again, there was no record of whether it came from the motel office or one of the rooms. Heather had circled this number, too, but next to it she wrote Fell Police Department.

There were no other calls that night.

I stared at the numbers for a minute. Someone had called in to the motel just after one. Maybe that was a coincidence, a fluke, or a wrong number. Maybe not.

But just before two, someone at the Sun Down had called the police.

Was it Vivian? Simon Hess? Someone else?

I put the note down.

My aunt Vivian killed Simon Hess.

She must have. There was no other explanation. Or was there? I didn’t really know what had happened that night in 1982. But someone—a woman—had warned Tracy Waters’s parents about Hess. And Tracy had been killed, her body found the same day Viv disappeared.

Had Hess killed Viv, then been killed by someone else?

Callum’s information would answer some of my questions. An ID on the body in the trunk in the barn and a cause of death, even a preliminary one, would put some of the pieces together. I went into the bathroom and cleaned up, then changed into clean clothes. I had a text on my phone from my brother, Graham, but I ignored it. My old life seemed so far away.

I texted Heather quickly so she wouldn’t worry. Callum has info from the police. Going to meet him. As I hit Send, the phone rang in my hand. I didn’t recognize the number.

I bit my lip for a second, undecided. Then I answered. “Hello?”

“You found him.” The voice on the other end was female, older than me, and familiar.

“Marnie?” I said.

Marnie sighed. “You’re a smart girl. We hid him good, and he stayed gone for a long time. But it looks like you dug him up after all these years.”

I shook my head. “You lied to us. But you took a photo of the barn where you left him.”

A pause. “Yes, I suppose I did.”

“Why did you take the picture?”

“I wanted to be able to find the place again. I don’t think I ever believed he’d stay buried forever. We thought maybe we’d have to go back and move him, but we lucked out. For a while, anyway. Now is as good a time as any for all of it to come out. It was going to happen whether I wanted it to or not.”

“Who killed him?” I asked. “Was it you? Was it Viv?”

“It’s a complicated story.”

“Not really. Someone put Simon Hess in a trunk and left him in a barn. Was it you? Or her?”

“You didn’t find the notebook, did you?”

I stood straighter, my skin tingling. “Notebook?”

“It was left for you,” Marnie said. “You’re missing so much of the story. It’s why you’re confused. Read the notebook and you’ll understand.”

My mind raced. It was left for you. What did that mean? “Where is the notebook?” I asked Marnie.

“Tell me,” Marnie said. “Did you ever try to get candy out of the candy machine?”

I froze, remembering the broken candy machine. Nick saying, I can’t believe this even works.

“Read the notebook,” Marnie said again, “then meet me at Watson’s Diner.”

“When?”

“Tonight,” Marnie said. “When you’re there, I’ll be there. Don’t worry.” She hung up.



* * *



? ? ?

Finelli’s was a beacon of yellow light on the dark downtown street, where a lot of businesses were already closing for the night. Fell wasn’t a late-night town. At least, not here. At the Sun Down, it was an all-night town.

Callum was sitting at one of the small tables, a coffee in front of him. He was wearing a button-down shirt, a zip-up sweater, and a fall jacket. The guy knew how to layer. His hair was neatly combed and he smiled when he saw me.

He held up his mug when I sat down. “Decaf,” he said. “Want one?”

I blinked at his cup, still groggy. “I want the most caffeine this place can supply.”

Callum smiled again and signaled for the waitress. “Right, you work nights. I guess this is morning for you.”

“To be honest, I don’t know what time of day it is. I haven’t in a while.”

“Interesting,” Callum said. “And kind of freeing, I guess.” He put his cup down. “The rest of us are stuck in time. You know—you do one thing in the morning, this other thing in the afternoon, go to sleep at night. The same thing every day. But that isn’t real, is it? It’s just something we construct for ourselves. If we wanted to, we could let it go.”

I sipped the coffee the waitress had brought and tried to follow what he was talking about. “A lot of people work nights.”

“Sure they do.” Callum smiled again. “Thanks for meeting me.”

Now I was perking up. I took another swallow of coffee. “You said you have information.”

Callum’s gaze dropped to his coffee cup, then wandered around the room. “Do you want to know something strange?”