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"See. See right there, banter. We're going to make a great team, Rachel. I'm telling you right now," he said, his southern drawl turning energetic along with a skip in his step as he led her back towards the crime scene.
Rachel just shook her head, stifling a yawn.
It was getting late.
The coroner would be delayed, and there was nothing more to glean from the crime scene.
"How about we check into the motel," she said, "then figure out if Candace is connected to any of this."
Ethan gave her a nod, but ducked his head as they passed Jebediah.
Rachel feared that particular storm was still brewing, but for now she said nothing, nodded politely at Jeb and his son, and moved back towards the waiting truck.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The moon hung low in the sky, casting a pale glow upon the dusty road as Rachel and Ethan pulled up to the tired facade of the small motel. The flickering neon sign cast eerie shadows over the building, giving it an almost sinister appearance. As they stepped inside, the sound of their footsteps echoed through the empty lobby, mingling with the hum of a vending machine in the corner.
Behind the counter stood a tall, wiry man with weathered skin and dark eyes that seemed to hold a thousand stories. He greeted them with a nod, his gaze lingering on Rachel for a moment before turning his attention back to the reservation book.
"Two rooms for tonight, please," Ethan spoke up, breaking the silence that had settled over the room.
"Got it," the man replied gruffly, his fingers deftly flipping through the pages of the book. As he scribbled their names down, his eyes flickered back to Rachel, curiosity evident in his expression. "You look familiar," he said slowly. "Your face reminds me of someone I used to know."
Rachel furrowed her brow, searching her memories for any trace of recognition. "I'm not sure," she replied hesitantly. "I haven't been in this town for years."
"I know your face," he said, nodding with more certainty.
Rachel wasn't sure how to respond to this.
The man mused as he scribbled in his book. "You live on the reservation?"
"I used to. Bout a half hour from here, actually. Lived with my aunt." She studied the old, weathered features of the native man.
"Hmm... " He looked up again, his brow lowering, his lips pressed into a pensive expression. "I know..." His eyes trailed to her hat, to the feather in the brim, to the small, turquoise seed beads in the fringe of her hair.
"Ah," the man's face brightened, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You must be Sarah's niece then. Rachel, right?"
Surprise flickered across Rachel's face, and she nodded. "Yes, that's me. You knew my aunt?"
She could feel Ethan's curiosity rising as he glanced at her.
"Indeed, I did," the man responded, leaning against the counter with an air of nostalgia. "She was quite the character, your Aunt Sarah."
Rachel reached for a card from her pocket and approached the pay terminal as he turned it towards them. But after a second, he waved her away.
"No. It's fine."
She blinked. "What?"
"A gift."
She hesitated, glancing at Ethan. "What about him?" she asked, jamming a thumb towards him.
The man's eyes narrowed. "Seventy per night."
Rachel held back a snicker at the crestfallen look on Ethan's face. She supposed the friendly discount was only for Sarah's niece. She wasn't complaining--Rangers weren't exactly overpaid.
Ethan grumbled briefly as he wrangled the card reader under the desk attendee's watchful gaze.
