Page 49 of Tides of Change
Garrett repeated his questions and asked about suspicious guests.
The guy chuckled. “Everyone here’s suspicious. That’s why they come here. What they do ain’t my business.”
“What about Halloween night?” Garrett pressed.
The man shrugged. “Privacy’s what they pay for. I don’t snoop.”
I tensed, and Garrett gave me a brief glance, his expression unreadable.
Once again, we ended up in the parking lot, Garrett running plates while I scrubbed my face. “How do you have the patience for such uncooperative people?” I asked, anxious for answers.
He shrugged. “It’s part of the process.”
I admired Garrett’s calm focus. His investigative style was deliberate, steady, like he could untangle any knot if given the time. If anyone could make sense of this, it was him.
He’d run the plates of every car in the parking lot, cross-checking the registered owners against the licenses. None of the faces meant anything to me.
“We don’t even know where he’s from,” I murmured, anxiety creeping into my voice. “He could be from New York. Maybe he followed me here.” I scrubbed a hand down my face. “Hell, he could be from anywhere in the country—found me in New York, tracked me here. Who knows how long he’s been watching?”
Garrett glanced over, his voice even but laced with concern. “He could be,” he said. “But if he knows your routines—whereyou live, when you’re home—chances are, he was close to you in New York. That kind of access doesn’t come from casual observation. It’s personal. Do you know of anyone with a grudge against you?”
The weight of that truth settled in my chest like a stone. “I’ve been trying to figure that out since the feather, but I can’t think of anyone.”
Garrett started the engine and backed out of the parking slot. “One more cash-friendly motel to check out. I doubt he is staying at any place nicer and paying with a credit card.” He added under his breath, “Unless he’s stupider than I think he is.”
The final motel, perched near the coastal freeway, had a weathered exterior that inspired little confidence. Inside, the air reeked of mildew, and the woman behind the counter barely looked up from her magazine as Garrett asked his questions. She waved him off with a dismissive grunt.
The vehicles in the lot here were a mix of locals and out-of-staters, and none of the names associated with the plates seemed familiar. By this point, the frustration was a dull ache in my chest. Every time we approached someone, I hoped for something—a lead, a clue, a reaction. Instead, we encountered indifference or hostility.
I leaned my head against the passenger-side window, the cool glass soothing my overheated skin.
“What now?” I asked, my voice flat. “We’ve got nothing.”
Garrett started the engine with a low rumble and shifted into gear.
“We’re not done,” he said, eyes fixed on the road ahead.
I turned to him, brows lifting. “You have another lead?”
“Not a lead,” he said. “A gut feeling.”
He didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t push. I trusted his instincts more than I trusted my own heartbeat right now.
We headed back into town, navigating through the historic district until we pulled up in front of the Sea Glass Suites. The boutique hotel sat prim and elegant on Main Street, all soft blue paint and white trim, like it belonged on the cover of a travel magazine. A small sign in the window welcomed guests with hand-lettered charm.
Inside, the lobby was warm and coastal in a tasteful way—bleached oak floors, soft lighting, and subtle sea glass accents in shades of green and blue. Behind the desk stood a man I didn’t recognize, but who exuded charm like it came with the job. Dark hair styled to perfection, silver bracelets on one wrist, and a smile that could probably convince even the grumpiest traveler to extend their stay.
Garrett approached the desk with quiet authority. “How are you, Landon?”
“Wonderful, Garrett.” The man raised an eyebrow and eyed me like I was a snack. “And this is Ethan,” he purred. “Nice to finally meet the man who likes pumpkin spice lattes.”
My eyes widened. “You…how…?”
“Oh, darling, I know everything that goes on in Seacliff Cove.” He turned to Garrett. “Which is why you’re here.”
Garrett glanced back at me and nodded slightly. “Has anyone tried to check in recently using cash?”
Landon’s brows lifted, thoughtful. “Not many people do that anymore. But…yes. About a month ago. A man tried to pay in cash. Said he didn’t like using credit cards. I told him I don’t accept cash for rooms—policy. He wasn’t happy, but he left without causing a scene.”
