Page 130 of Last Girls Alive
He shook his head.
“C’mon, I’ll hang back. Just give me the shotgun,” she said, almost matter-of-fact. As if it was any other day trying to finagle her way into the situation.
McGaven leaned forward. “I know you’re tough, but think just for a moment what you’ve been through today. You should be resting at home or in the hospital under observation—resting.”
Katie opened her mouth but decided not to say anything. She sat back and tried to relax.
“I’m not joking around.” He stared at her, anticipating what she might say. Opening the door, he added, “I’ll be back, I’m just going to have a look around.” He left, not saying another word.
Katie watched McGaven move stealthily toward the motel. He went around the back way and disappeared from her view.
She spied the keys dangling in the ignition. Thinking for a moment, she swiped them and stepped out of the car. Opening the trunk, there were several duffel bags McGaven had packed. She knew he had one for stakeouts, but there was also another one with his backup pistol. Unzipping the bags, she quickly found the gun and made sure that the magazine was fully loaded. It didn’t take her long to fully protect herself with firepower and a heavy sweatshirt as she closed the trunk. She thought about the bulletproof vest, but didn’t want to waste another moment.
Katie didn’t intend on running in like a banshee, she wanted to be prepared as backup. Surveying the property, so many variables were obvious to her. First, there were several areas where someone could hide and ambush the police, and there were also several exits making it more difficult if the killer fled and hid somewhere in the brush nearby.
The parking lot was in dire need of repaving, with several deep holes. Two orange cones had been placed near them, but they were faded from being in the sun for such a long period of time. There were only three cars parked—one pickup truck, an SUV, and another small compact car. She assumed one was the manager’s and one of the other two was most likely Weaver’s.
Two patrol cars rolled up and slowly drove around and parked just out of sight. McGaven must’ve called in for backup.
The two deputies jogged down the side of the property along a narrow trail in between the heavily overgrown area. They too disappeared with the weeds as cover.
Katie spied an area just above the motel near the storage yard where she could watch and move in if needed. Moving quickly, her muscles began to loosen up, making it easier for her advance. She observed the two deputies and McGaven priming themselves at the motel room door—it was last one on the end at the second level.
She heard McGaven give the law enforcement orders, “Jerry Weaver, this is the Pine Valley Sheriff’s Department! Open the door!” McGaven stood strong with the two patrol officers beside him. “Kick it in,” he said, and stepped out of the way.
With ease, one of the patrol officers stomp-kicked the door, allowing the frame to splinter and then the door burst open with a loud bang.
Each of the officers moved inside with furtiveness, their weapons trained in front of them ready to use force if needed. Katie heard them yell, confirming they had cleared the rooms.
“Clear!” The main living room.
“Clear!” The bedroom and bathroom areas—McGaven!
“Clear!” The kitchen and dining area.
To Katie’s surprise, the two deputies and McGaven quickly exited. She watched the anguish on McGaven’s face. He was angry, but upset by what he had seen.
Katie left her position and jogged up to the motel, taking the stairs two at a time.
McGaven saw her and said, “I knew you wouldn’t listen to me.” He was still visibly shaken and his voice remained low.
“What is it?” she said breathless.
“Jerry Weaver isn’t here.”
She glanced around. “Oh, he’s around. There’s no way he’s not.”
“Based on what?” he said.
“Based on the fact he thinks he’s so smart. Look, he’s outsmarted us twice before and got away. I bet he’s watching right now. I’d bet my badge on it.”
McGaven hesitated and thought about Katie’s rationale, trusted her expertise, and then turned to the patrol officers. “Take a look around the property. Check every possible hiding place. Turn your radios down. Stay alert.”
Katie pushed past McGaven and entered the motel room. She wanted to see for herself—Weaver’s lair.
“Wait,” he said.
She ignored him and went inside the cramped room with tattered and worn-out furniture. Everything appeared to be mismatched thrift-store buys. Food remains, flies, and miscellaneous wrappers were strewn all over the table, counter, and small sofa. Mouse droppings were scattered across the floor near a small opening at the end of the wall.
