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)
Rus had barely met the guy, and he liked him.
“Rus,” she warned.
“Brittanie checked into the motel herself.”
“All right,” she prompted when he said no more.
“We’re looking local, but what if it was someone from outside Misted Pines? I take it these tourists and business conference people hit up your club?”
“Absolutely,” she replied. Then he knew she got him and just how difficult it would be to track down someone who wasn’t local when she said a soft, “Damn.”
“Keyleigh didn’t mention anybody. You didn’t either.”
“No. And again, if she set up a tryst with someone, she would not go to that motel. Even if they were from out of town and for some reason she wasn’t comfortable with taking them to her house. She’d expect them to pay, and she’d expect something like Pinetop. That’s the most exclusive place in town, but there are others, not as nice, but definitely nicer than the motel.”
“Still, it’s a possibility.”
“I’d say outside possibility, Rus.”
“I don’t dismiss any possibility until it dismisses itself.”
“Of course.”
“Gotta make a call.”
“Of course,” she repeated.
He pulled out his phone and called Moran. He got voicemail, shared his thoughts, then reiterated what he’d texted earlier: once he was done with Thea the Dominatrix, they’d meet up and get on with the day.
But now that included having a discussion about a possible out-of-towner drifting through and killing Brittanie.
Thea lived on the opposite side of town from Lucinda’s mother. It wasn’t that far of a drive. They were going to be early and couldn’t show until she was done with her nine o’clock.
Because of this, Lucinda directed them to stop at a place with a shockingly (in this part of the country) progressively liberal, in-your-face mural on the side of the building, and a sign on the front that was clearly made from reclaimed materials.
It declared that inside was Aromacobana.
Their local coffee spot.
So an explanation of the liberal mural.
They went in and immediately stirred a lot of interest.
This interest wasn’t about Lucinda’s version of a casual outfit that would go better lunching in New York City than picking up a coffee in a grunge-loving-progressive-lefty coffeehouse in rural Washington.
It was what was obviously making its way through town about who he was and the time he was spending with her.
As annoying as it was that Ellen Macklemore felt entitled to drive to Pinetop Lodge and confront him about how he was spending his time investigating this case, Rus had never been one to give any fucks to what people thought of him. This was one of the reasons why he cut his military career short.
It wasn’t that he didn’t like authority.
It was that he was more of a freethinker than the military allowed you to be. Until then, he’d lived an entire life where thinking freely was frowned on, and more of that turned out not to be his gig.
This was also why he didn’t continue as a cop.
And it was what led him to the FBI.
Structure. Support. Rules and regs.
But leeway to be your own person and encouragement to explore and share your thoughts.
Though, he couldn’t say he didn’t have some pride standing at the side of a beautiful, elegant woman and strongarming her at the cashier so she’d finally let him pay for something.
One thing he had added proof of after taking a sip, the libs knew how to make a damn good coffee, and that was the case from sea to shining sea.
They were back in the SUV and had resumed their journey when he noted, “Ellen Macklemore, the woman in the denim and turquoise, is in the coven, isn’t she?”
“She is.” Lucinda confirmed. “Though, I was surprised at the open offensive.”
“Not as surprised as me.”
“Now, what are you thinking?”
“I think thou does indeed protest too much on occasion.”
She sounded surprised. “You’re back to the coven?”
“She thought I was having dinner with you. It’s none of her business if I break for dinner or who I do it with. By last night, I hadn’t even been here two full days, and someone’s in my face about how I’m spending my time?”
“Welcome to Misted Pines.”
This stunned him.
“Really?” he asked.
“Did you not see that mural? Much of our citizenry has opinions, and they aren’t afraid to state them openly. Since the Ray Andrews debacle, the town council meetings are a free-for-all. I go for entertainment value alone.”
This made him feel better.
“Don’t run into Kimmy, whatever you do,” she advised. “She’ll tell you exactly who killed Brittanie, and she’ll be very wrong but think she’s very right.”
“Kimmy?”
“The woman who runs our holiday shop. And no, we’re far too small, no matter the tourists and out-of-towners, to have our own dedicated-to-holidays shop. But Kimmy makes a go of it against the odds. She’s also our local conspiracy theorist. She knows who killed JFK, and she’s pissed as shit Cade Bohannan hasn’t taken her directly to meet with Director Wray so he can reopen that case.”