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She decided to give it another hour, then shift to the book before bed. Early to bed, she reminded herself.
She wanted to be up, showered, and dressed before the bathroom crew arrived.
One hour drifted into two. She found a missing woman, reported by her adult daughter, from Hazelton, just over the West Virginia border. In September of last year, Sloan noted, no abandoned car this time. Celia Russell had taken her dog—Misty, a miniature poodle—out for a walk.
Neither had been seen since.
The daughter reported that Russell, divorced, had no signs of depression, no known enemies, no gambling or drinking problems.
Investigated as abduction, but that ran cold.
“More than twenty-five years older than Janet, and there’s the dog.”
She moved on.
So many, she thought. So many missing. Some found, some not. Some found when it was too late.
A dentist from Cumberland intrigued her. That abandoned car. But male, middle-aged. And having an affair with a woman about half his age.
She made notes on him, and on Celia Russell simply to satisfy the investigator inside her.
Realizing she’d missed that early night deadline, she made herself shut off her laptop and get ready for bed.
As Sloan climbed into bed and turned off the light, Clara and Sam sat parked on the far end of the hotel’s parking lot in Uniontown, and directly beside Zach Tarrington’s Saab.
“We’re really lucky he’s working the late shift, babe.”
“Not lucky,” Clara corrected, and kept a hawk eye on the doors. “It’s meant.”
“You’re right.” He patted her hand. “It’s meant.”
“He should be coming any minute now. You should get out, doll, go around the back of the van. We don’t want him seeing a big, handsome man like you.”
“Black man.” Sam gave a resigned shrug. “I know how it is.”
Now she patted his hand.
“Just like we planned.”
Sam got out, used the van as cover.
The security lights worried him some, but Clara said this place, this time, this resurrected was meant. That was that.
Plus, it was goddamn cold. He could think thegoddamn, but he had to be careful with certain swears around Clara.
And sometimes he thought she could read his mind. She was spooky, his Clara. He loved that about her.
He heard her open the door of the van, and got ready.
Clara slipped out, pretended to have some trouble opening the side doors.
“Pete’s sake!” she said loud enough for the man approaching to hear her. “Stupid thing’s sticking again. Wouldn’t you just know it!”
“Need some help, ma’am?”
She turned, gave Zach a frustrated smile.
“I sure could use some if you don’t mind. Door’s stuck again. It takes some muscle to get it open.”