Dead Woman Crossing by J.R. Adler (books on motivation .txt) 📗

“Not quite. You knew I was coming back in here,” she teased.

Setting the glass on the bedside table, he pulled the covers up and slid into bed. She took his phone from his utility belt that was sitting on the floor and plugged it into the cord next to his alarm clock.

“Need a ride in the morning?” she asked.

Sam’s eyes appeared heavy as they closed for longer than a blink and then reopened. He rubbed his hands over his face.

“No, Barb will come get me. She lives a couple blocks from The Trophy Room, and she’s got a spare key to my truck. Barb takes care of me from time to time,” he said with a grin.

“So, this isn’t your first drunken escapade?”

Sam propped himself on his forearms and looked at Kimberley. His face became serious.

“Thanks for getting me home. You’re a good person, Detective King, regardless if you came from New York or not,” he said with a smile.

Kimberley laughed, playfully pushing him so he was no longer propped up.

“Need anything else?”

“Just for you to know I’m sorry for today and tonight.” He let his eyes close.

“Don’t worry about it, Sam.” She backed away from the bed toward the door and turned off the lights.

Before she could close the door, Sam whispered, “Night, Kimberley.”

She smiled.

27

Kimberley closed the door of her Ford and turned her shoulders side to side, cracking her back. The bed at Nicole and David’s wasn’t ideal. She could feel popped springs at night, and it creaked and squeaked when she moved around. She walked into the sheriff’s station and was expecting to see Barbara at the front desk, but instead Deputy Burns was seated in her spot. He was tall and lanky like a teenage boy that hit a growth spurt and never filled out.

“Morning, Chief Deputy King,” he said with a nod.

“Burns. Is Barb not in today?”

“She is. She’s in the conference room. By the way, I got confirmation of the phone number on Hannah’s phone. The one she had been calling and receiving calls from a few times a week for at least the past year. It’s unregistered.”

“So, a burner phone?”

“Exactly.”

Kimberley took a deep breath. This case was one big dead end.

“That’s useless then. Can’t track it. Can’t see who it’s belongs to.”

“Sorry, I don’t have better news,’ Burns said.

“Not your fault. Good work, Deputy,” Kimberly said, leaving the front area and entering through the set of doors.

As she walked through the office area, Bearfield and Hill greeted her. They were all now working on the Hannah Brown case in some capacity; reviewing interviews, crime scene photos, fielding calls from locals who had “tips” or wanted to know what was happening with the case, if they were in danger.

“How’s it going?” Kimberley asked.

Hill leaned back in his chair, rubbing his hand over his clean-shaven face. “I’ve got nothing.”

Bearfield took a sip of his coffee. “I had a couple of calls refuting the rumors that Hannah Brown was a prostitute, other than that same as Hill: nada.” He reached back behind his head, looping his ponytail holder one more time around his hair to tighten it.

Kimberley nodded. “Alright. Hill, why don’t you go out and do some patrolling then? Keep an eye on anyone acting suspiciously. Bear, stay on the case. Review everything.”

“Anyone in particular you want me to keep an eye on?” Hill tilted his head as he rose from his chair.

She thought for a moment. “Everyone. Until we find the person responsible, they’re all suspects in my book.”

Hill nodded, collecting his things and quickly heading toward the set of doors that led to the front.

Bearfield finished his coffee. “Don’t worry. We’re going to find this guy,” he said to Kimberley and immediately went back to flipping through the crime scene photos.

She nodded. “I know we are,” she said, her voice just above a whisper.

Kimberley walked to the conference room. She hoped with Sam’s ghost tour hunch behind him, they’d be able to really dig into this case. As soon as she thought of Sam, she remembered the night before. Sweat beads formed at her hairline. Would he remember last night? Would he regret confiding in her? Had their working relationship changed? She wiped her forehead, trying to wipe away her thoughts. But all this did was lead her to thinking about his family, his wife, his son. How did he survive every day with that type of loss and grief? She took a deep breath just in front of the conference room, and when she felt composed enough, she entered.

Barbara was the only one in the room. When she saw Kimberley, a smile spread across her face. A mug of coffee and a Danish sat in front of Kimberley’s seat.

“I assume this was you, Barb,” Kimberley said, picking up the Danish and taking a bite out of it before sitting down.

“Guilty as charged.”

“Where’s Sam?”

“He’s running a little late. Not feeling too hot today.”

“I assumed he wouldn’t be.” Kimberley pulled out her laptop from her messenger bag.

“I found something peculiar.” Barbara slid one of the ghost tour notebooks across the table.

A single name was highlighted in yellow marker. The date on the top of the page was five weeks before Hannah’s murder. Kimberley read the name over and over, but nothing was clicking. Why did this one stand out? Why was it peculiar?

Henry Colton.

Henry Colton.

Henry Colton.

She knew that name, but why? And where did she know it from? Finally, she looked up at Barbara for the answers. Her face was lit up, pleased with herself, the same look she had when she completed her morning crossword puzzles or when she finished a knitting project.

“I ran through all the names this morning like I said I would, just wanted to double-check some things. I’m quite good at puzzles, you know.” She raised an eyebrow.

Kimberley could see she was dragging this story out, relishing in it, but she allowed it. She could