Page 90 of The Woman Left Behind

He opened them and urged, “Hit me with it.”

“He said he wasn’t surprised someone was poking around, because when his daughter phoned him, and he tuned into the local Coeur d’Alene news and saw two bodies were found, he and his wife were debating calling the cops due to remembering Sonny and Avery.”

They made an impression. An impression that lasted sixteen years and was the first thought these people had when bodies were found.

The hallmark of a good witness statement.

Harry stared unseeing at the parking lot he was in, and he listened hard.

“The dude said they were memorable first because they looked straight out of Hollywood. He said he’d never seen such a good-looking couple. After he got over that, he noticed they were acting odd. Not like they were on the run, more like they were being chased.”

“Fuck,” Harry whispered.

“Yeah,” Jess agreed. “Then, they made the request to check out very early, and asked if they could just leave their key in the room so they didn’t have to disturb anybody with checkout. Onward from this, feeling tweaked about their demeanor, that night, this guy recalls seeing a man in a car in his parking lot, parked across the lot from their room. He was just sitting there, and not a patron, so this guy went out to ask him what he was doing. The minute the hotel owner started to approach, the man in the car put his headlights on and drove away. Due to the headlights, the owner didn’t get a good look at his face.”

“What’d you get on this car and this guy?”

“Only that it was for sure a white male, dark hair, beard, youngish. Twenties, maybe early thirties at a stretch. And the car had Washington plates. It was a Ford sedan, he thinks dark blue or black, but that was all he got before the guy was gone.”

“He remember any digits on that plate?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

“Still puts someone from around here, there,” Harry said.

“Yeah, it does. But that isn’t all.”

Harry felt his blood start to heat, the good kind of that shit happening.

The kind you got when all leads seemed to have run dry, and then suddenly a window opened and you had your pick of them.

Jesse continued, “This dude told us he was surprised when the maid went in the next day, and they hadn’t checked out. All of their belongings were still there. They didn’t come back that day or check out the next, and considering this was all fishy, he reported it to the cops. But at the time, the cops had no interest in it. He did, and thought something was off, so he carefully packed their belongings and put them in storage.”

Harry felt his blood pressure spike, again, the good kind of that happening.

“Where they’ve remained for sixteen years,” Jesse concluded.

“Jesus Christ, Jess,” Harry swore, fighting back the urge to punch his roof in elation.

“I know, man. The daughter took us back there, her dad was on FaceTime, helped us dig them out from under a decade and a half of familial and business debris. We called the cops, met Sergeant Westwood. She and her team came and got the stuff. But she let us stick around when they opened those cases. In Avery’s suitcase there were two journals. The entries aren’t extensive until the last few weeks of their lives. We didn’t get to read them, but thanks to you telling her we’re on your team, Westwood’s letting us come in and have a look after the evidence is processed. We got a one o’clock appointment with her tomorrow. Still, she said she’s gonna keep you in the know, so you might hear from her before you hear from us.”

He’d be a little later to Lillian’s, because Westwood was his next call.

“You see anything while she was flipping through?”

“This won’t surprise you, but I’d keep a close eye on the Dietrichs. Saw that name more than a few times. I’d also expect a call from the Feds. This crosses state lines. Westwood doesn’t have a dick to swing, but she’s easily read as not that kind of cop. She doesn’t give a shit sixteen years have gone by. She’s pissed as fuck someone buried bodies in her beautiful town, and even more pissed they killed them there. She’d call in the Canadian Mounties if she thought they’d help her nail whoever did this.”

That was the impression he got from Westwood.

“Wade’s probably there by now. He’s bringing back the remains,” Harry told him.

“We know. He gave us a call. We’re having dinner tonight.”

“Lillian wants her parents back, but I want Wade to go with you when you look at what’s in those suitcases and those journals.”

“You want me to relay that, or are you gonna do it?”

“I’ll text him. First, I gotta call Westwood.”

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