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“Whatever. I knew that desk guy wasn’t going to give me your room number, and I didn’t want to give him my name.” He hunched his shoulders. “I figured the fire alarm would get you outside where I could talk to you.”
Narrowing her eyes, she asked, “Where were you when Ashley was murdered?”
“See? You think I did it.”
“It’s a simple question, Denny.”
“I was in my rig on the outskirts of town. Me and Ashley had a spat.” He sniffed and rubbed his nose. “She told me to take a hike, so I slept in my rig and I was still there.”
She had to admit, his story was weak. “What was the fight about?”
“Other women. Always about other women.”
Her gaze wandered from his bleary eyes to his stubbled chin down to his dirty jeans and scuffed boots. Real lady-killer. “Did she threaten to kick you out?”
“Nothing like that, but it’s what she said before, Jessie. She was scared—not of me.”
“Scared of what?” Jessica watched a couple of fire engines pull into the hotel parking lot, their sirens wailing. She could always make a run for it if Denny turned violent…or she could probably take him out herself.
“Some guy.” Denny picked up a rock and skipped it into the bay. “She told me she’d seen the same guy in town who’d met with Tiffany years ago. She saw him for the first time yesterday. They met eyes, and she recognized him and realized that he knew she’d recognized him.”
“What guy is this?” She snapped her fingers. “Ashley did mention someone she thought might’ve stolen the doll and scarf, but she said he left town before Tiffany was murdered.”
“That’s right. She told the cops about him at the time, but she didn’t know his name or where he lived. He just showed up one day, hung out with Tiffany a few times and left. Tiff never introduced him to us. I never even saw him, but Ashley saw them together drinking coffee one day. She never saw him again—until yesterday, the day she was murdered.”
“You think he killed Ashley because she recognized him.”
“Yeah. I put two and two together. That’s the only thing that makes sense to me.” Denny covered his face with his hands, and his shoulders shook.
“I’m so sorry, Denny.” Jessica rubbed his back. “Ashley was the sweetest person. I hope I didn’t… I mean I hope my visit didn’t draw the killer’s attention to her.”
He dragged his arm across his face. “That’s not it, Jessie. It was that man. I’m telling you, Ashley was terrified.”
“You need to go to the police, Denny. Tell Detective Morse everything you told me.”
“What if this guy comes after me? What if he thinks Ashley told me or that I remember him? I don’t. I don’t.”
“The police can protect you, Denny. This is important information they need to know.”
“Like they protected Morgan, Missy and Gabby?” He took a cigarette from his pocket, which trembled as he held it between two fingers. “I don’t think so. Just stay safe, Jessie. You don’t even live in Fairwood. If you’re done with your work, go back to Seattle.” He squeezed her hand and turned away.
She watched Denny’s dark figure climb over the rocks, the glowing light of his cigarette bobbing with each move.
Wasshe done with her work? She was done with her official work, but the unofficial work had consumed her and now Denny had handed her another clue. She owed it to Tiffany to follow up. She owed it to Morgan, Missy, Gabby and Ashley, too.
* * *
FORTY-FIVE MINUTES LATER, the fire department had given the all-clear signal, and Jessica shuffled back inside the hotel with the other guests, quite a few a little tipsy from their forced evacuation. The effects of her two glasses of wine had completely evaporated, and her nerve endings tingled anew after her encounter with Denny.
When she got to her room, she reached for the phone to call Finn and tell him all about this new piece of information. As soon as she picked up the receiver, she dropped it—and not because she hadn’t memorized Finn’s number, which she hadn’t. If she ran to Finn with Denny’s theory about the mystery man, Finn would only remind her to step back and leave it to the police.
And he wouldn’t be wrong.
Instead, she got ready for bed and slipped between the covers, the TV remote on one side of her and her laptop on the other. She selected a reality TV show from the menu andpulled the computer into her lap. Without her phone, her email had become her only connection to the outside world.
Several new emails loaded, and she started with the oldest, a message from Celine with her final invoice and the news that she’d sent Jessica’s contact info to her brother.
Jessica switched to her bank’s website and sent Celine the money. Back to her email, she skimmed through a message from Michael reminding her to fill in her time sheet with hervacation days, as he still insisted on calling them. She had a different name for it—a forced leave of absence.