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CHAPTER 22
FLORA
NOT BEING MUCH OF A sleeper, I spend most of the night pacing. Shortly after four, I hear a commotion in the hall and come out of my room in time to catch D.D. exiting hers. She provides me a brief update of the situation at the mayor’s place, then she and Kimberly disappear out the motel doors to do their policing business, leaving me behind.
It still takes me another hour to find my courage.
I wish I could explain it, even to myself, but I can’t.
Take on a known rapist? Check.
Walk down a dark alley where a suspected predator snatches his prey? Check.
Race into a burning building to confront a killer, save a pregnant woman, track an arsonist? Check, check, check.
Knock on the door of the handsome man staying in the room next to mine...?
I pace the deserted lobby. Roam the tiny dining area, which at this time of morning doesn’t offer lights, coffee, or even Pop-Tarts. Finally, back down the hallway I go, telling myself I’m brave, I’m strong, I’m a survivor.
I’m shaking by the time I reach Keith’s door. I get my hand up to knock. I think of my friend Sarah, who’s gone back to college and now has a boyfriend. I think of the way her face lights up when she talks about her life. From surviving to thriving.
She did it. I can do it.
I’m still standing there, frozen with my fist midair when the door swings open. Keith appears, fully dressed and not looking surprised to see me.
“Kimberly and D.D. left,” he says.
I belatedly pull down my hand. “There’s been a death. Mayor’s wife. Hanging.”
“Suicide or murder?”
“That’s what they’re trying to figure out.”
Keith frowns at me. “What does that mean for us today?”
I take a deep breath. Will he think I’m crazy? Then again, Keith has been remarkably adaptable so far.
“I want to rent an ATV again,” I tell him. “I want to visit the guy they were talking about last night—the loner, Walt Davies.”
“The guy who shoots cops on sight?”
“We’re not cops.”
Keith arches a brow. “We’re trespassers. A guy who shoots cops probably shoots trespassers, too.”
“Then we’re trespassers who will need to talk very, very fast.”
Keith doesn’t say no. He considers me for a moment instead. “Why?”
“I don’t know. I need to do something. And this...” I frown, I don’t know how to put it into words. Ever since I heard Walt Davies’s name last night, it’s been stuck in my brain. Because I heard it before? Or because I have a thing for crazy loners?
I say at last, “Yesterday, D.D. had us trying out local food looking for matches. But Jacob had other appetites.”
“Drugs and alcohol,” Keith fills in.
“Exactly. If this Walt Davies guy is the local supplier of moonshine and dope, there’s a good chance Jacob would’ve sought him out. Especially given Walt’s reputation as the town outsider. All the better in Jacob’s world.”
“Makes sense. But the sheriff said he was going to send two deputies to talk to the guy. So again, why us?”
