Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 114820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
“Why?”
She lifted a single shoulder.
“Intimidation?” he suggested.
“Oh, must assuredly,” she told him. “Any collective of women is intimidating to people for some reason. Even if they don’t do anything but hang out, become friends and go on the prowl together.”
She was scoffing.
He was being serious.
“You seem to want to downplay this. But we’re talking more than a dozen women coming from somewhere else, having the means to take over a neighborhood, and living by a certain set of rules. That sounds like something to take seriously.”
“Is this why the FBI is involved?” she pushed. “Because fifteen women have been identified as a hate group?”
“It isn’t why I’m here, but would you describe them as a hate group?”
“I’d know them to point them out, Rus. But I don’t know them. They seem friendly to me. They’re not standing by the side of the road throwing rocks at cars with male drivers. And as far as I know, men aren’t dropping like flies or having bizarre accidents because their hexes are working.”
That was funny, so he smiled at her.
Then he noted, “You think I’m going down the wrong path.”
“I don’t know what to say because I don’t know how Britt was killed. Was it poison?”
This again.
Christ, she was stubborn.
“Lucinda.”
“Gunshot?”
He sighed.
She leaned his way with impatience. “Why won’t you tell me?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Because poison says woman. And maybe a gunshot too. And my girl was sleeping with married men, meaning they have wives. And she was killed at a fucking motel, for God’s sake.”
He leaned her way as well, getting face to face.
“Sweetheart, how about you leave the detective work to me? You’re invaluable as an informant, and I appreciate all the help you’ve given. I also get you very badly want justice for Brittanie, so you want to find who hurt your girl. But I’ll take it from here.”
Her irritated face also had signs of latent cute.
He didn’t allow himself to get stuck on that.
“Tell me about the motel, did she go there often?” he demanded.
She shook her head but didn’t sit back.
He knew why, and it wasn’t because she worried they’d be overheard. It hadn’t escaped him none of the tables around them had patrons, this she’d arranged so they could speak freely about the case.
No, she stayed where she was because he was there.
“We were close, but I wasn’t her confidant. So I don’t know for certain, but I don’t think so.”
“The desk clerk knew her but had never seen her there before.”
“That feels true to me when it comes to Britt. She liked nice things. That motel isn’t nice. She wanted attention, but she wasn’t about to accept less than she deserved. They either came to her place, she went to theirs, or they treated her to a night at the Pinetop or in Seattle, not at a motel.”
“I bet you taught her that.”
“Of course I did.”
He grinned at her.
She watched his mouth as he did it.
His steak arrived with great timing.
Lucinda kept him company while he ate, and they put the case aside.
He learned Madden won last year’s spelling bee and wanted a microscope for Christmas.
She learned Acre’s and Sabrina’s majors, and he received his first genuine broad smile when he told her about Sabrina’s bikini budget.
And she did not lie.
The twice-baked potato was insane.
ELEVEN
Done Fighting It
The lodge had a half-mile running trail through the woods above the building.
The next morning Rus ran it three times, and in that altitude with the steep inclines, and the fact he didn’t get back to his room until three in the morning and he’d started running at six thirty, it kicked his ass.
Nevertheless, he hit his room and did his sit ups and pushups before he jumped in the shower.
He had a towel around his waist, wet hair and was about to shave when a knock came at the door.
He looked through the peephole.
Room service.
He opened the door. “Sorry, there’s been some mistake. I didn’t order breakfast.”
“Compliments of Ms. Bonner,” was the reply.
He nearly burst out laughing.
He didn’t, but he was smiling when he stepped aside, and the guy wheeled the cart in and set the food up on the table by the window.
When he left, taking the cart with him, he didn’t hand Rus the wallet to sign off on the bill.
Guess she was taking care of the tip too.
He quickly shaved and put on some shorts, olive green khakis, a belt, and a pressed white button down. He then went to the safe, pulled out the file from under his two guns and sat down to breakfast with Brittanie’s murder as company.
But his mind wandered to last night.
After Lucinda left him to it, he’d spoken with Morley, Emma, her assistant bartender, Emeril, Security Sue’s partner (he wore the same black suit uniform as Sue) and half a dozen other staff members before he wandered down to the theater.