The Sun Down Motel
She walked to the desk and opened the key drawer. The envelope of Robert White’s money was still there, stacked with bills. She took it and stuffed it in the back pocket of her jeans. She was starting everything over, but she had a little money to do it. White would never know where his money went. The thought made her feel a little better.
She took a last glance at the guest book. Jamie’s name was in there, and Mrs. Bailey’s. Both of them would be questioned. But Mrs. Bailey was passed out, and she didn’t think Jamie would talk.
Actually, she was sure he wouldn’t. Because she’d ask him not to.
Turning her back on her old life, she left the office. Alma was behind the wheel of Simon Hess’s car; she was wearing some kind of plastic doctor’s gloves, her hands on the wheel. Marnie got in her own car and motioned to Viv.
“Come with me,” she said. “Let’s take a ride.”
Viv walked to Marnie’s car and got in.
Fell, New York
November 2017
CARLY
Callum’s car followed in my rearview mirror as I drove out of downtown Fell, onto the back roads. I gripped the wheel and my mind spun as I wondered what I should do. Pull over? Try to lose him? Call someone? Who?
What did Callum want?
He can’t possibly want to hurt me. That was the first thing that came to mind. Did a man just follow a woman around in order to hurt her?
Yes, you idiot. He could.
He had invited me out by lying to me. He had told me a crazy story about his grandfather—who, if Callum was telling the truth, was serial killer Simon Hess, formerly of Fell and now long dead in a trunk. And then Callum had followed me. He wasn’t friendly or nice. Whatever he wanted, I didn’t want to know.
And suddenly I knew what to do. I left Fell and took the back roads to the west, away from the Sun Down. The sky was dark and, except for the odd car, the roads were quiet. There was just me and Callum. He wasn’t even trying to hide that he was following me.
I turned onto another familiar road, and then another. I sent up a silent prayer that the person I was going to was home. And then I pulled into Alma Trent’s driveway.
I turned off the ignition. A dog barked wildly in the house, and the front porch light switched on. I sagged in relief.
Alma Trent opened her front screen door and walked out onto her porch. She was wearing jeans and a navy blue sweatshirt, her hair tied back in a ponytail. She looked at me, still sitting in my car, and then her hard gaze moved to the car still on the road at the foot of the driveway, idling. She watched it for a long minute, and then Callum’s car pulled away.
I opened my driver’s door with a shaky hand and got out.
“Evening, Carly,” Alma said, her voice its usual unhurried speed. “Were you having a little trouble?”
Her tone said that trouble didn’t scare her. That she’d spent decades walking toward it instead of walking away.
“Maybe a little,” I said. “A guy was bothering me.”
“Well, that’s goddamned rude,” Alma said. “I can talk to him if you like. Some guys don’t get the message until they get a talking-to from me.”
“His name is Callum MacRae,” I said.
Alma went very still. For the first time, I saw a crack in her cop’s façade. “I see,” she said. “I didn’t realize you knew Callum.”
“It’s strange,” I said. “I first met him at the Fell Central Library. I was doing research there, and he introduced himself. I’m wondering now if maybe he found me.”
“Callum can seem nice enough, but sometimes he’s a little unstable,” Alma said. “Do you want to come in for a cup of tea?”
I took a step forward, but I didn’t answer her question. “You were on shift the night that my aunt Viv disappeared, right?”
Alma hesitated for the briefest second. Then she nodded. “I was.”
“But you didn’t know she was missing until it was reported four days later.”
“How would I know she was missing?”
It was a hunch. Only that. But every instinct in my body and my brain told me I was right. “I’m wondering now if maybe my aunt didn’t die that night,” I said. “I’m wondering if maybe she lived and someone else died.”
“Carly,” Alma said, “you should really come in for a cup of tea.”
“I don’t think so. I don’t think I’m going anywhere with you. Or Marnie Clark. I’m sure you heard about the body I found in a trunk this morning?”
Alma’s eyes were fixed on me, but I couldn’t read them. Pity? Kindness? Fear? I realized now that to survive decades as the only female cop on a male police force, Alma had become very, very good at hiding what she was thinking. “I heard about it, yes,” she said.
“I thought it was my aunt, but the police told me it was a man,” I said. “And then Callum called me and told me this crazy story about how his grandfather disappeared around the same time my aunt did. And I know he’s telling the truth, because a man named Simon Hess disappeared sometime around November 1982. His wife was too embarrassed to report it because she thought he’d left her. Simon Hess worked as a traveling salesman. Just like the last man seen with Betty Graham.”
“Callum gets fixated on things,” Alma said. “His grandfather’s disappearance is one of them. He’s never been quite right. We think he has borderline personality disorder.”
“Who’s we?” I asked.
“He’s had more than one run-in with police,” Alma said, ignoring my question. “Usually for bothering girls. He stops when he gets a talking-to. He’ll stop bothering you if I talk to him.”
“Not if he thinks my aunt murdered his grandfather and stuffed him in a trunk,” I said.
Alma was quiet.
“Did she?” I asked her.
“You know I can’t answer that,” she said.
“Then I’ll answer it myself. Marnie says there’s a notebook at the Sun Down that I need to read. I think I’ll go read it.”
“You talked to Marnie?” Alma said, her voice shocked. “You have the notebook?”
“I’m going to get it now. And then I’m going to meet her.”
Alma hesitated, then nodded. “She’s right,” she said. “It’s time.”
Now is as good a time as any for all of it to come out, Marnie had said to me on the phone. It was going to happen whether I wanted it to or not.