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Going public with a murder investigation was always a double-edged sword. The eyes and ears of the local community was a massive advantage, but if news reached the mainstream media, then the press might infiltrate the town and scare the offender off. Only the most hardened killers, the ones who craved the thrill of the hunt, would stick around with so much commotion. This unsub was more focused on his mission rather than any sexual gratification or thrill-seeking, so there was every chance he’d bail if news of his crimes became widespread.
That meant they had to tread carefully, but if they could keep the information contained in a smaller area, they might just get a few good leads.
“Where the hell is the receptionist?” Ripley asked. “I’m gonna go find someone.”
“Alright,” Ella said. Ripley disappeared beyond the lobby and Ella stayed back. She took a seat on a cream chair, opposite the newspaper man. She set her bags down beside her and checked her phone.
Nothing from Ben. Nothing from anyone. Only an email from Sheriff Hale with the footage and voice sample attached as separate files.
“Out of towners?” a voice asked. Ella glanced up and saw the stranger lower his newspaper. He was a middle-aged bald guy, dressed in a brown suit that had seen better days.
Ella said, “We are indeed. And you?”
“Sadly not. Born and bred here. What brings you to this little town?”
Ella took a moment to assess the man,mentally measuring him up to discern his true intentions. Just a genuine guy making small talk, or a potential murderer scoping out hispursuers? She thought back to the footage and transposed it before the man in front of her, comparing heights, weights, frames. This man was too tall, too wiry to be the same man from the video.
“Homicide,” Ella said, going for broke. If they were going to reveal the details to the locals tomorrow, she might as well get a head start. “Not sure if you’ve heard the news.”
The stranger dropped the newspaper in his lap. “Homicide? You’re police officers?”
“Close enough,” Ella said.
“Good lord. No I haven’t heard anything about them. Murder, around here? You know what? I can believe it. It makes a lot of sense.”
“I’m afraid so,” Ella said. “Two homicides, so please be cautious.”
The man folded his newspaper and put it to one side, curiosity emblazoned on his face. “Is there anything a local can do to help? Everyone knows everyone around here.”
Ella considered the question, prioritizing hesitation. “Perhaps. Who are you?” she asked.
“My name’s Gary. I live on Primrose Street, a few miles away. Born and bred in this town.”
Ella pondered the obvious question. “Why are you in a motel if your house is so close by?”
Gary’s expression fell at the question, as though struck by a terrible memory. “Cast out. Ravaged by fire. Lost everything.” The man held his palms out, flashing blistered skin, layers of flesh stripped away.
Ella winced, contorting in discomfort. “Good lord, that looks awful. I’m really sorry to hear that.”
“If he was a good lord, this would never have happened. The big man left me out to dry that day. I survived, but lost all my belongings. Been forced to stay here for the past three weeks.”
Ella’s heart ached as she looked upon the man, and she knew that no amount of sympathy would be of any use. “The police can hook you up with shelter,” she said. “Or the housing association.”
The man laughed but looked unamused. “Neither cover acts of God. A lifetime of prayer and this is how he repays me. The irony.”
“Head out to Charleston, find a Sikh temple. They take in anyone who’s struggling. We can help you find one if you want.”
Gary waved his hands dismissively. “I’ll take my chances here. Is there any way I can help you officers out?”
Ella glanced down at her phone screen. “Yes, actually. You say you were born and bred in this town?”
“Yes. Lived here for fifty-six years.”
“How’s your hearing?”
“My hearing?”
Ella shuffled across the room and sat beside the gentleman. She navigated to the voice sample, turned up the volume and hit the play button. The killer’s three words echoed around the hotel lobby.
