Renegade (Tin Star K9 Series Book 1) by Jodi Burnett (literature books to read .txt) 📗

“Yes. Is it possible she checked in here on the night of Friday, May 14th?”

The woman grudgingly moved to the desktop computer and clicked several keys on the keyboard. “Nope. We had a family staying here at the time, and three singles—all male.” She paused to watch a scene of her show.

Colt removed a business card from his shirt pocket and tapped its edge sharply on the counter to regain the clerk’s attention. “If you remember anything else, or hear of anyone who might have seen her, will you please call me?”

She glared at his interruption. “Yeah, I’ll call.” Taking his card and tossing it onto the desk, she re-immersed herself in her daytime drama.

Colt drove to the next motel on the street. This one was more up-scale and the woman who greeted him when he entered was friendly and efficient, but she couldn’t help him. Receiving her promise to call him if she learned anything, Colt was back on the road. The clock on the dashboard reminded him his time was short. He had to get to Cheyenne before the Crime Lab closed.

His next stop proved to be a complete bust, as construction workers had boarded it up for renovations. By the look of things, the building was ready to collapse any minute. He’d take one last look before he abandoned his motel investigation for the day. Another mile down the road he saw a sign for the “Mountain Lion Inn” and turned into the parking lot.

The man behind the desk in the lobby took Wendy’s photo and ogled it. “Yeah. I remember her. Pretty thing. She was in here a week or so ago, I think.” He blinked up at Colt. “You looking to arrest her for somethin’?”

The electric pulse of adrenaline snapped through Colt’s veins at his success in finding the right motel. “Was she with anyone else? Did someone come inside to register with her?”

The clerk scratched his chin and ran his tongue over chapped lips. “I don’t think so. No.”

Colt showed him recent snapshots of Dylan and Jim. “Have you ever seen either of these men before?”

The man sucked his teeth and shook his head. “Nope, can’t say I have.”

“How did the woman seem to you when she checked in, mood wise? Was she happy… sad… anything stand out to you? Maybe she’d been drinking?”

Frowning, the man thought. “She’d had a few, but she wasn’t stumbling drunk, or anything. I can’t say much about her mood. Maybe she seemed tired, a’course that’s pretty common at a motel. She was quiet, but nothin’ seemed wrong, if that’s what you mean.”

Colt leaned on the counter and peered at an ancient, boxy monitor. “Can you look up what kind of room she rented? Was it for a single or double?”

Rheumy eyes darted around the desktop before blinking up at Colt. “I didn’t write any of that down.”

“Don’t you keep records on your computer?” Colt glanced at his watch. He didn’t have time to drag information out of this guy.

“Well… if I remember correctly… she paid in cash.” The man avoided looking him in the eye.

Colt figured the clerk didn’t record Wendy’s room rental so he could pocket the cash. “Are you sure there was no one with her? Did you see her car?”

“On second thought, I think there was a man in the car. He was driving, if memory serves.”

“Can you describe him? Was he one of these men?” Colt held the photos up again.

The clerk shook his head in thought. “No. I couldn’t really see the driver with the motel lights glaring off the windshield.”

“How about the make and model of the car?”

“The car was white—looked new—I think. I don’t know what kind, though. Don’t figure it’s any of my business, you know?”

Colt didn’t know. Most decent motels ask for their patron’s type of car and their license plate number when they record their registration. “Do you have security cameras here?”

A rough smile split the man’s face, and he chuckled. “We don’t even have vending machines. The owner here is way too cheap for cameras.”

“Okay, then, did you notice if she went straight to her room? Or did she go somewhere else first?”

“Pretty sure she went straight there. It’s the door on the end.” The man pointed out the window to a long brick building with a row of green doors. “At one point there was another car parked down there too. A small dark car.”

“One that didn’t belong to another customer?”

“No one else was renting a room on that side.”

“Did she stay in her room all night?”

The clerk shrugged. “Not sure, but I got off at four in the morning, and it seems like I remember the parking lot being empty. Only reason I remember that, is ‘cause it’s not normal.”

Colt thanked the man and handed him his card, just in case, though he assumed he’d never get a call. At this point, all he knew was the name of the motel Wendy had checked into, the fact that she was actually there, and that she was with someone—most likely a male, and possibly a third person. Hell, he wished he could talk to some other patrons who were there that night, but he had to get going. He wouldn’t get anywhere pressing this guy for information about other guests without a warrant, anyway.

Back on the road toward Cheyenne, Colt realized he should have asked if the driver had a beard. Then he remembered the clerk mentioned the vehicle was a car… not a truck. Wendy’s vehicle, a white Honda, was found ditched near the forest access road. He needed to find out who owned the smaller dark car.

Back on the highway, Colt drove over ninety miles an hour most of the way down to Cheyenne. He pulled into the crime lab parking lot just after three o’clock that afternoon. After signing in, he spoke to the investigator in charge, explaining the urgency of the situation. The supervisor agreed to perform a quick blood