Page 19

After sketching and making notes at the crime scene, they drove back to what had to be Pennsylvania’s cheapest motel.

Journey and Lucas dropped them off, then headed back to their hotel, which was apparently twenty minutes away.

They instructed Stella to give either of them a call if needed, then pulled away with Journey berating Lucas’s planning abilities.

Stella and Hagen intended to chat with the victim’s friends in the bar that evening to try to fill out a picture of Charlie Caine’s life and figure out who’d killed him. They needed to find someone who knew Charlie and who, ideally, was also a member of that Dispatch group.

She let herself into their room beside the parking lot and tossed her coat over the chair.

Hagen turned on the light by the bed, which did nothing to lift the gloom. The bulb was too weak, the curtained window too heavy for the dull glow that leaked through to overcome.

Stella flopped onto the bed. The springs creaked loudly, and the mattress rocked. She put her hands behind her head .

“Hours to go in Meyersdale, Pennsylvania, before Charlie’s friends will be at the bar. Whatever should we do?”

Hagen fished in his pocket and pulled out a quarter. He pointed at the coin box beside the lamp. “Vibrating bed. Only in places like this. Tried one once on a case in Oregon.”

“Really?” Stella peered down her nose at him. Even after weeks together in a cabin in the woods, he could still surprise her. She liked that. “How was it?”

Hagen lifted an eyebrow. “Made me seasick. Want to try?”

“Not right now.” Though the idea was damn tempting, she pushed up to her elbows. “We’ve got to get a handle on this, and quick. We’re not just investigating one murder here. If we don’t crack this soon, more people will be sacrificed. I can feel it.”

“Maybe the mastermind is one of those people Guy suggested. An academic, a translator. Someone who knows cuneiform. There can’t be too many people who fit that description, like that Dr. Napp we met in the library at Laurel Mount.

He seems like a leader and a bit of a pompous ass.

Maybe we’ll get a name before we’re done here. ”

“As long as Guy’s looking in the right direction.

” Stella sat up. “His theory is that Dispatch group is being run by a professional historian with some charisma. I see your point about Napp. But maybe our unsub is more of an amateur. Someone more charismatic with a little knowledge of ancient history. A hobbyist. That would cast a wide net.”

Hagen nodded. “Yeah, that’s way too big.

Breaking into the Dispatch group is probably the most streamlined way to find this guy.

But we still don’t have a way in, and even if we did get in, everyone’s username is probably protected by levels of encryption, like the group itself.

I know we’ll break in sooner or later. But I have severe doubts that we’ll be able to do it before another murder occurs. ”

Stella closed her eyes. The way forward was unclear. And Hagen was right. The longer they took to fumble through, the greater the risk of more people dying. She rubbed her temples with the heels of her hands before taking her phone from her pocket.

Hagen watched her. “You calling Tysen? We’ve don’t have much to report yet that she doesn’t already know. And she’ll let us know if her people managed to hack into the Dispatch groups.”

Stella shook her head. “I know. I owe my mom a call.”

They hadn’t spoken for more than a week. A motel in the middle of nowhere with little to do until evening was as good a chance as any to catch up.

Hagen turned his back and assessed the packets of instant coffee and ancient tea bags on offer next to the tiny motel kettle. “Guess I should call my family too.”

Stella stretched her neck as she waited for her mom to pick up. The motel bed was the opposite of comfortable. “You should. No excuses now.”

“I’ll do it later.” He put the coffee back and sniffed a packet of tea. His head jerked back.

Stella assumed he was making a fuss. No tea could be that bad. Even in this motel. “I’m sure they’d appreciate it.” The line rang on. “Where is she?”

“Probably would. But my mom will ask about my job, and I hate talking about work with her. Especially when we’re on a case. Amanda will go on about how beautiful the ranch looks with the decorations up. And I don’t really have the patience to joke around with Brianna.”

Stella’s mom broke the ringing of the phone and stole her attention. “Hey, honey!” Barbara’s upbeat voice was jarring in that dark motel room, with the bleak scenery outside and the bloody memories of the case in Stella’s head.

“Hi, Mom. You took your time.”

“Well, I was sitting on the balcony enjoying the sun, and I left the phone inside. If I hadn’t come in to get Jonathan some more ice, I wouldn’t have known you’d called. I hardly expect you to.”

Stella rolled her eyes. She was grateful her mother was halfway across the country and couldn’t see her.

Barbara tutted. “You just rolled your eyes at me, didn’t you? I know you.”

“Not at all.” She laughed, unable to hold it in. “I was rolling them at Hagen, who’s having a meltdown about the quality of the refreshments at our motel.”

“Oh, a motel? Where are you?”

“Don’t get too excited. In Pennsylvania on a case.”

“As usual. Well, say hello to him for me.”

Stella lowered the phone. “Mom says hi.”

Hagen took the kettle into the bathroom, stopping just long enough to shout, “Hi, Barbara,” over his shoulder.

“Now, when are you both coming for Christmas?”

Stella silently groaned. This was the question she knew was coming.

She glanced toward the bathroom, then rose from the bed and stepped out of the room. The cold wind whistling across the parking lot hit her hard. “I don’t know. Hagen really wants to see his family. He hasn’t seen?—”

“And I haven’t seen my only daughter since…the unfortunate incident at the golf course. I know Jonathan wants to see you both too.”

“Mom, I…it’s…you know. I don’t know what…”

A deep sigh sounded at the other end of the line.

“Fine. You know what? You do what you want. I’m sure Jonathan and I will have a lovely Christmas by ourselves.

I thought it might be nice this year, since Jonathan’s kids are still a little upset by the new arrangement.

Four of us little chickens. But you do whatever you think is best.”

The line died, and Stella had a great urge to hurl her phone over the empty fields. She stormed back into the motel room.

Hagen held up a steaming mug. “Tea? It’s not as bad as it smells.” He saw the expression on her face and stopped. “Oh. Guess not. What’d she say?”

Stella hesitated. If she told him why her mother had angered her, the guilt she’d just dropped, he might fold and say they should go to Florida.

But Stella didn’t want to push him. Not like this.

If they were going to see her mom for Christmas, it needed to be their decision, not a choice forced on them by her mother’s emotional blackmail.

“Nothing. Never mind. I’m just hungry. Let’s go eat.”

Hagen kept his gaze on her. He didn’t believe her. She could see that. But he was also smart enough not to push. He put down the cup and grabbed his coat.

“I was lying about the tea anyway. Tastes like dishwashing liquid. Even the instant coffee would’ve been better. Got a place in mind to eat?”

Stella was already halfway out of the room. She remembered seeing a pizza place on the way to the motel. The restaurant was close enough to walk to, though little in the town was more than a short stroll away, even in the cold.

“Maybe.”

She strode on, her hands buried in her pockets and the collar of her coat tight against her neck. Her mother really knew where to hit when she wanted to, how to dig her finger into Stella’s guilt. It just wasn’t fair. Stella kicked a patch of snow drifted against a wall.

Hagen trotted after her.

The restaurant close to the center of town looked as bad as Stella remembered when they’d driven through on the way to the motel.

Lettering on the dirty windows had mostly faded.

A menu taped to the glass had yellowed and freed itself at one corner, nearly halfway to escaping to the floor.

The smell when they stepped inside was a strange mixture of burned cheese, damp wood, and spilled beer.

Apart from one old man sitting in the corner—sipping a Bud, scratching his white beard, and reading a newspaper over an empty plate—Stella and Hagen were the only customers.

They took a seat by the window.

Hagen leaned across the table and whispered, “There’s nowhere better around here, is there?”

Stella lifted her eyebrow. “Thinking you’re gonna find a Michelin star if we walk a hundred feet farther? No. This is far as I go. I’m starving.”

A server placed two dog-eared menus on the table and pulled out her notebook.

She looked like she was in her mid-twenties and had long blond hair she’d pulled back into a neat ponytail and a small chin beneath full lips.

She was slim and pretty, the kind of girl who’d always win a place on a cheerleading team even if she’d never lead it.

The crooked badge on her apron identified her as Sandie.

“What can I get for you folks today?”

Stella lifted the menu. “We’ll take a large pizza with pepperoni, mushrooms, and olives.”

“No olives.” Sandie gave a sorry grimace. “All out. No mushrooms either.”

Stella suppressed her irritation. “Then a large pepperoni.”

“Sure.”

Hagen handed her the menu. “Quiet here, isn’t it? Always like this?”

Sandie glanced at the clock on the wall. The face was a picture of a pizza. “It’s after two. See you folks aren’t from around here.”

Hagen shook his head, looking grateful. “No.”

“People around here eat real early. We start serving at eleven for lunch, and our dinner rush is at five. By nine, half this town’s asleep in bed, and the other half’s asleep in front of the television.”

There’d been times in Stella’s life when she’d ached for quiet. But too much quiet didn’t sound good either. “You from here?”

“Born and bred. Never lived anywhere else. And the way things are looking, doubt I ever will.”

“Did you know Charlie Caine, then? You guys must’ve been about the same age, right?” Stella held up her badge. “We’re FBI, looking into what happened.”

Sandie’s face fell. She’d clearly not only known Charlie but known him well.

“Yeah. We were at school together. It’s so awful.

” She pulled the menus to her chest like a shield.

“He was such a great guy. A real hero. Picked up a Purple Heart in Afghanistan, you know. Heard he just volunteered to coach the school football team too. Always had time for everyone, that guy. It’s just terrible. ”

Hagen picked a lemon seed from his water. “Sounds like you were close.”

“We dated, back in senior year. I’d see him sometimes when he was home on leave.”

“Really? You dated?” Stella glanced at Hagen. Running into one of the victim’s exes was a stroke of luck. They hadn’t had any of that for a while.

Sandie waved away Stella’s interest. “Me and half the girls in school dated Charlie at one time or another. He had a jaw like a sideboard and these beautiful green eyes.” She sighed.

“I was kinda hoping I’d have another chance now he was back.

Most of those other girls have either moved out or shacked up.

Guess I should’ve known nothing good ever happens in this town. ”

“Can you think of anyone who’d want to hurt him?” Stella asked .

“Hurt Charlie?” The server shook her head vigorously.

“I mean, he broke a few hearts back in his day. I don’t think Tracy-Ann Lampert has ever forgiven him for cheating on her with…

well, that was me. But Tracy-Ann, she’s got a mouth like a sewer, but she couldn’t hurt a fly.

And besides, she moved away years ago. No, I can’t think of anyone mean enough to want to hurt a guy like Charlie.

And honestly, I don’t know anyone who’s dumb enough to try either. ”

Stella toyed with the prongs of her fork. They were getting information but not their pizza. “Heard he was hanging out at the Prairie since he’s been back.”

Sandie nodded. “Yeah. Town’s veterans call it their MWR. Their morale, welfare, and recreation place. Guys who go there spend more time with each other than they do with their families. Guess Charlie never got the chance to make that mistake. I’ll get your pizza in the oven.”

Still hugging the menus, she left them.

Hagen rubbed his chin. “You know, I think this is going to be pretty straightforward. This is a small town. Everyone knows everyone. Shouldn’t take us too long to identify Charlie Caine’s killer.”

“That’s only half the job. We’ve done that half job before.” Stella’s stomach rumbled. “Remember what we’re here for. We need to find whoever inspired them, the monster who’s been sending out those messages on Dispatch and getting people to kill.”

Hagen nodded. “Well, solving one might solve the other.”

Stella peered out the window. A truck drove past, with an old couple in the front seats. They’d probably lived in or near the town forever. All the family would come down to the homestead and join them for Christmas. A giant gathering of the clan. Stella had nothing like that. Nothing but her mom.

Her stomach ached again .

“Sweetheart?” Hagen laid his hand on her arm. “You okay?”

She warmed at the pet name.

“Yeah. No. Not really. My mom. She really wants us to go to Miami this Christmas.”

Hagen scratched his jaw. “Um, I?—”

“I know.” She threaded their fingers together. “You want to spend the holiday with your family. I get it. And I want to spend Christmas with you. It’s our first together as a couple.”

She stroked his face. Her phone pinged. A message from her mother.

Stella took a deep breath and, with Hagen looking over her shoulder, played the video.

Her mom stood with Jonathan behind her, smiling.

Barbara started off the wheedling. “We so want you to come for Christmas this year. I know it’s a long way, but we haven’t seen you for so long. There’ll be presents.”

Jonathan leaned in closer to the camera. “And food.”

“And we miss you. Both of you. Please come.”

Stella sighed, set down the phone, and looked over at the kitchen door. “Where the heck is that pizza?”