The Girl in the Woods (Misted Pines #2) Read Online Kristen Ashley

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Suspense, Thriller Tags Authors: Series: Misted Pines Series by Kristen Ashley
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Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 114820 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 574(@200wpm)___ 459(@250wpm)___ 383(@300wpm)
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Rus walked slowly to stand looking down the side of the motel, which was the back of the units.

There was a vehicle-wide lane to the rear, but you’d have to drive in the street entrance and around the front of the motel to get to it. There was more chain link fencing lining the concrete down that side, closing it off from that vacant lot.

If a car came in, and it crossed the front by the lobby, especially at night, the desk clerk wouldn’t miss it.

He loped down the side of the motel, Moran with him, nothing there but the windows over the toilets to the rooms.

He stopped at what he knew was room seven, not only because he was counting, but also because there was a ledge from the roof protecting the building from the elements, and the black fingerprint powder was still visible around the outside of that window.

They’d be thorough. He knew it because he’d read the reports.

But…good.

He started jogging again, Moran with him.

They hit the back of the motel and stopped.

At the angle to the L, there was a door, now open, and he could hear the laundry machines going.

So, laundry, linens, supplies.

No other doors. But more bathroom windows. All the units had front entry only.

There was also parking back there. There were two cars parked. The maid and clerk.

Unless they were told to park back there, it seemed everyone was avoiding Brittanie’s room.

And this was probably where they did any unloading of supplies.

But you could drive around either the front or the side of the motel to get to it, easier access was around the front.

He turned his back to the motel and looked left and right.

The chain link fence went to the end of the concrete on either side.

No back fence.

Also no back road.

You entered the property from the street, and it was closed in at both sides.

And regardless of those pamphlets, you’d see a car enter, whether it went to the main parking lot, or around the side.

But there was no access to the property in the back. There was another very steep hill close to the edge and that was it.

Fuck.

He’d thought he had something.

He was sure they’d come in through the window. Though, unless they left fingerprints, he couldn’t prove it.

He also couldn’t offer an explanation as to how they got on the property at all, because there were no witnesses who saw them there and it was impossible to enter the property in a vehicle without the desk clerk seeing, including being on break or away from the lobby, but noting the car parked in the lot.

Considering Brittanie checked in at around five thirty, depending on how long they were there, they might have had to evade the attention of three clerks—the evening clerk, the night clerk and/or the morning clerk. Not to mention other customers, all two of them, who had been contacted and interviewed and they hadn’t seen or heard a thing.

Though, none of those clerks or customers would have reason to see someone parked at the back by the vacant lots, nor would they see someone rounding the rear of the property and going down the side to the bathroom window.

And unless they got sloppy and his team lifted prints around the window, they’d left no trace.

You just couldn’t drive a car back there.

It wasn’t impossible that two people walked to the motel carrying a massive amount of plastic tarp, sex toys and a hammer.

But it was improbable someone did it without anyone seeing them.

They’d have to park somewhere close and walk the road, which was highly traversed. And how they’d navigate rounding the fence at the front without being seen by the clerk would be a miracle.

Unless you wanted to take your chances stumbling in the dark next to a mountain, or through one of two vacant lots strewn with boulders, and climb the fences at the sides.

But if Rus had a mess of plastic tarp, sex toys and a hammer, heading to a motel where he was going to torture and murder someone, he wouldn’t want to sprain his ankle stumbling through the dark or break his neck falling off a six-foot chain-link fence.

And chain link fences were noisy. If you climbed them, they clanked and banged. Maybe not enough to be heard by people in the motel, but these weren’t two cat burglars.

Nevertheless, they’d managed to evade being seen or heard by street traffic, employees and customers.

And with the town as interested in the murder as Misted Pines, a passerby seeing them would have reported it.

Even if they did come up from the back along the mountain, they’d probably need flashlights, and those would be seen too.

Bottom line, though, none of the reports shared evidence of vegetation, gravel, mud or dirt in or outside the room. And unless they took their shoes off outside the door and were careful to clean away any residue when they vacated, if they hoofed it there, they’d track at least some of that in.



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