Page 54 of 2 Sisters Murder Investigations

“This!” Baby gestured to the street. “These houses are owned by a company called Enorme. All these people are trespassing here. And aside from that, they’re blatantly conducting criminal activity. There’s a drug deal happening right there in front of us.”

“Where?” The officer squinted through the windshield.

“There!” Baby pointed. The dealer, who was maybe thirty feet away, looked over. He tucked a wad of cash into his pocket and snapped a salute. Baby watched the dealer go back to his stash to re-up; he had the kind of detached confidence that made her stomach knot.

“I can’t be sure of what I just saw.” The officer shrugged at her partner. “You?”

“Nah. I left my glasses back at the station.”

“Ma’am,” the officer said, leaning out again. “I’m not seeing anything here that suggests to me that my colleague and I should bother these people, who seem to be going about their business peacefully.”

Baby scoffed. “Look, if you can’t spot a drug deal in progress when it’s happening within throwing distance of your squad car bumper, that’s your problem. But these people are trespassing. Okay? You can at least clear them out if you’re not going to arrest them.”

“Do you know who any of these people are?” the officer asked.

“No.”

“So how do you know the homeowners haven’t permitted them to use the premises?”

Baby gritted her teeth. “I don’t know that.”

“Hmm.” The officer nodded. Baby gave it one last shot.

“I could call the cops again,” she said. “Try to get a different pair of officers out here. Maybe I’ll even get hold of your boss. Your chief might be interested to know how you’ve responded to this scene.”

“Oh, I don’t think he would be,” the officer behind the wheel said. He grinned. Baby eased a breath through her teeth.

“Come on.” Baby felt the desperation rising from her stomach into her chest. She gave a laugh that was almost a sob. “I mean, come on. Don’t you have ... ” She had no words. Let her hands fall by her sides.

The female officer eyed Baby. “Ma’am, you seem edgy to me. Have you consumed any illegal substances?”

“No way, don’t even.” Baby backed away from the car. “Don’t even try to pull that one on me.”

“Is there anything else we can assist you with?”

“No.” Baby winced. The word was like acid in her throat. “We’re good.”

She walked back to Arthur. The old man’s eyes were full of dread.

“This is bad,” she said. “Real bad.”

CHAPTER60

I CHECKED INTO Alittle roadside motel around midnight. I’d called ahead, and the clerk had left the key for me under a potted plant by the door to the darkened reception office. I went into the room, dumped my bags, and showered.

I stood for ages under the water-saving showerhead, forcing scalding-hot water needles into my skin. It wasn’t an entirely bad sensation, but no amount of physical discomfort could alleviate the guilt galloping around in my chest after the confrontation with Dave Summerly. Or the uneasiness I felt after Raymond’s insistence that he’d seen a man sneak into my car. Truth was, I believed the guy. And though I’d managed not to dwell on my violent altercation with Martin Rosco in my home, I wondered if someone had been hired to finish what Rosco had started. There’d been no sign of anyone suspicious when I stopped at a roadhouse for dinner. Nor at the next gas station I stopped at before arriving here. But I felt watched all the same.

My emotions were tangled. I lay on the bed and stared at the dusty stucco ceiling and tried to talk myself down from that catastrophic ledge. My senses jolted at every sound outside the motel room. I’d never been afraid of the dark, but as I reached to turn off the bedside lamp, a horrifying thought occurred to me. There had been no cars parked outside when I arrived. What if I was the only guest at the motel tonight? This isolated place was nothing but a tiny office and a row of six rooms. The clerk probably forwarded calls to the motel’s number to his own phone at night.

I realized that if I screamed, no one would hear me.

When my cell phone rang, I did scream. It took me a few long, urgent seconds to catch my breath.

“Something you want to tell me, Ms. Bird?” Detective Will Brogan asked when I picked up the phone and turned the bedside lamp back on.

I heard my own sigh rattle on the line. “The box,” I said.

“The box, the messages, the backpack,” Brogan said. “Hell of a twist in the tale, all of this. And I’m surprised it’s come this late in the story.”

---