Rowley picked up the notepad and stood. “Okay, thanks, we’ll take those photographs of your truck then be on our way.” He turned to Webber. “You handle the vehicle inspection. I’ll chase down these people then contact the sheriff.” He headed for the front door.
The weather was closing in when they arrived at the Blackwater Motel. Rowley pushed open the door to find a surprisingly clean foyer and leaning on the front counter in a cloud of perfume was a buxom woman in her thirties. She gave him the once-over and smacked her ruby lips as if she planned to eat him for dinner. “Afternoon, ma’am. I was wondering if I could talk to the proprietor.”
“Well, that would be me.” She looked up at Webber. “My, they grow them tall in Black Rock Falls.” She patted her dark hair. “Are you lookin’ for a room?”
Rowley bit back a smile. “Ah no. I was wondering if you’d happen to remember if Jeff Knox had a woman in his room on Friday night?”
“I’m sure I don’t know.” She eyed him suspiciously. “I don’t go spyin’ on my residents.”
“Residents?” Webber gave her a long look. “Do people live here on a permanent basis?”
“Some do.” She smiled at him. “Men mostly. They like a clean room and a hot meal and I provide both. I take in their laundry as well.”
Rowley smiled back, hoping being nice and spinning a good yarn would get him a room number. “I need to speak with him. We picked up a woman during an investigation who says she was with him Friday night; she had his wallet and a wad of cash. We figured he might want it back.”
“You drove all this way to return his wallet?” She frowned. “How come I find that hard to believe?”
“Knox is her alibi.” Webber shrugged. “But we understand if you’d rather not give us his room number.”
“I figure he’ll need his wallet to pay me. He’s in number twenty-six.” She gave them a wave as they headed for the door. “Come back soon.”
Forty-Three
He switched off the TV in disgust and tossed the remote onto the coffee table, then stormed out of the room. Anger heated his cheeks as he shoved open the back door and stood on the porch. Snow battered his bare flesh and sent cold tears running down his face. A deadly chill crawled through his clothes, raising goosebumps on his skin, but he remained motionless, staring at the skeletal trees blackened by frost along the perimeter of his land, and tried desperately to think. Winter seemed to muffle sound as if everything was hiding beneath the blanket of snow, too afraid to make a noise. The usual wildlife was missing today. In fact, everything looked cold and dead. Right now, he needed the quiet solitude to get away from the constant chatter over the radio or TV about the people missing from Black Rock Falls. Why couldn’t Sheriff Alton leave well enough alone?
He slammed a fist on the handrail, shattering the icicles and sending them spearing into the snow-filled garden bed below. Dammit all to hell. After driving all over the local counties, picking up hitchhikers and taking them back to his underground hiding place, his laziness had overcome his natural good sense. Kidnapping people anywhere close to home was a mistake and he should have known a woman like Jenna Alton would poke her nose where it wasn’t wanted. Most sheriffs didn’t give adult missing persons more than a cursory look, especially when he left no evidence for them to find, but leaving Ella Tate alive had been a big mistake and Alton was like a dog with a bone. She had the media making everyone jumpy and her deputies were running all over town chasing down non-existent clues. Now he would have to postpone his plans until spring and then choose a new area to hunt.
Of course, no one could possibly suspect him of kidnapping or murdering anyone and the idea of keeping Olivia until the melt flittered into his mind. It would be an option. Doug wouldn’t be a problem; he could make him vanish easily enough. He chuckled, filling the air with a cloud of steam, at the memory of Olivia’s terrified stare. He still couldn’t believe how well things had worked out for him. Who would have thought he’d come across a car wreck complete with a young woman of the right age and type for his needs? But then the sheriff had started an investigation and spoiled everything.
It was just as well he could outsmart Sheriff Alton and had planned each move ahead of time. He’d purposely not touched Ella and the drug he’d given her made her look like she’d lost her mind. She was the last person to see three missing people alive and should be the sheriff’s number one suspect but no, Alton was hunting for a mythical axman. Where Ella had gotten the ax idea from he couldn’t imagine because he’d hit Sky with a wrench.
Jenna Alton’s interference in his business made his blood boil and he wished he had the opportunity to take her out of the equation. Over the last two days the thought of seeing her drugged, helpless and at his mercy had become a fantasy. The idea of feeding Alton into the machine and hearing the satisfying crunch as it ground her bones into mush made him smile. He would send her in alive, maybe tied up and gagged. The sight of her moving slowly into the gaping maw of the machine filled his mind with vivid images. He’d enjoyed watching the machine work its magic many times since he’d created the illusion of a hospital ward. The clinical set-up had been pure genius. It was laughable how calm people became if they truly believed they were safe in a hospital—until he placed them on the conveyer belt.
Forty-Four
Snow hit the windshield in a blinding sheet by the time Kane pulled up outside the Pauls’ residence and made a dash to the front door with Jenna close behind him. Sky’s mother opened the door with a hopeful expression and Kane gave a shake of his head. “I’m sorry, no news about Sky or Doug but we have every available person working on finding them.”
“We came to speak with Ella if she’s home.” Jenna gave Mrs. Paul a compassionate smile. “We hoped she might be feeling a little better today.”
“She’s kind of stunned, very depressed and we’ve contacted the military to try and have her brother sent home for Christmas on compassionate grounds.” Mrs. Paul stood to one side. “You can try talking to her, but I’ve asked her what happened and she seems very vague.”
Kane followed Jenna inside the warm house. At Mrs. Paul’s insistence, they shucked their coats and followed her into a modern kitchen complete with granite bench tops and aluminum appliances. He inhaled the smells of wood smoke, cinnamon and freshly brewed coffee and took an offered seat at a center island beside Jenna.
“I’ll go get her.” Mrs. Paul made her way back down the hallway.
Sometime later Ella appeared at the doorway, looking pale, with dark circles under her eyes. She gave him a worried stare, then moved with obvious reluctance to take a seat opposite. Kane cleared his throat and took out his notebook and pen. “I hope you’re feeling better now?”
“Not really.” Ella gave him a sullen look. “I feel like someone is messing with my head.”
“Really?” Kane leaned on the counter. “How so?”
“I keep having nightmares, like when I’m awake.” Ella pushed both hands through her untidy hair. “Different versions with the night the man hit Sky and when we saw the wreck.”
Kane made a few notes. Often making a suspect believe he was noting every word they uttered calmed them and encouraged them to speak. He lifted his gaze. “What can you remember before seeing the wreck?”
Ella described her discussion with Doug about going to search for Sky, then leaving and heading toward Blackwater. Kane held up a hand to stop her talking. “Think back; you’re driving through town and turning onto the highway. Did you notice any signs?”
“Signs, what kind of signs?” Ella frowned. “You mean street signs or stop signs?”