Page 43 of The Midnight Knock
He flipped on the nightstand’s lamp, turned it off. Even the way the switch clicked felt unlike any of the electronics he’d grown up with.
Yet for some reason it felt almost familiar.
Ethan said, “So Sarah’s dinners with Stanley were business. Meaning Sarah was telling the truth about being here, at the motel, on a mission for Frank.”
“I think so, yes.”
“She said she was doing research for him. Any idea what sort of research the outfit would need done?”
“Beats the shit out of me. I don’t know if you’ve figured it out yet, but Frank’s a thug. Guns. Drugs. People. He moves things across the border and sells them down the river. Sarah also mentioned something about a being a teacher, but I have no fucking clue what kind of classes Frank O’Shea would want to take.”
“I wonder what her field was.”
“And why it would bring her way out here.” Kyla pulled out all the drawers of the dresser, the nightstand, tugged open the door of the armoire. “Maybe it was something to do with the mountain. Like a geologist or something?”
Or the motel, Ethan thought. That brief sight of the man he’d imagined in the parking lot a moment ago—the man in the gray gabardine suit—made Ethan remember the diner in Turner. The story he’d been told there.
Nine empty rooms.
Twelve cold beds.
“Were there…” Ethan faltered, almost afraid to hear the answer to what he was about to ask. “Were there any legends about this place, back in Fort Stockton?”
Kyla said, “Legends? About the Brake Inn Motel? Not that I ever heard. But again, I’ve only been there since August. Why?”
Ethan didn’t know where to begin. “I was just wondering. What about the other motel Ryan mentioned in the office? The Terra Vista? He said that Stanley had a secret about that place.”
“The Terra Vista? It’s a hot sheet place. Stanley takes girls over there plenty. He roughs them up.”
Ethan stared at her. “You say that really casually.”
“He pays them well and he’s the second-biggest cheese in town. People don’t really talk about it, but it’s hardly a secret. If that’s what Ryan was going to say in the office, it wasn’t much of a bombshell. Everyone knows Stanley’s beat up girls in the past. He put his ex-wife in the hospital. But most men are bastards. It doesn’t mean that he killed Sarah.”
“Doesn’t mean he wouldn’t have some practice, though.”
Kyla shrugged. “Frank’s outfit is dirty, but it’s loyal to its operators. If Sarah was working for them, Stanley wouldn’t have treated her like a piece of merchandise he could slap around. He could have killed her, sure, but if he did, then he just pulled down her pants to make it look like rape. They’re bastards, Frank and Stanley both, but one time a freelancer having dinner gave me a slap on the ass. Frank had his hand broken in twelve places, and I don’t evenworkfor those guys.”
“I don’t know how you lasted so long around people like that.”
“I kept my head down.”
The pair were silent a moment, surveying the room. It was clear there was nothing here to get excited about. Whoever Ryan Phan was, what exactly he’d been doing between the time he arrived at the motel and the moment Tabitha started screaming, he hadn’t left any trace of it here.
And even though it hadn’t felt like more than a few minutes since they stepped inside, the time was already 10:35.
Kyla said, “You feel like ripping up the carpet?”
“No. But something’s been nagging at me all night.”
“Care to share?”
Ethan didn’t quite know where to begin. The moment Sarah Powers had walked into the office, Hunter’s face had betrayed a rare moment of genuine surprise. Surprise and recognition and unease. Hunter’s face had closed up tight again in a second, his eyes had hardened, but whatever the man might say to the contrary, Ethan was still certain Hunter had met Sarah Powers at least once in his life.
And he hadn’t been happy to see her here now.
But he hadn’t killed her. Sarah had been alive at seven thirty, and Hunter had been in the cafe with Ethan. So if he hadn’t killed her, maybe this flash of recognition didn’t really matter.
Instead, Ethan told Kyla the same thing he told Hunter when they first got to their room: “Sarah Powers lied about knowing my mother. That story she told about her car breaking down out east and Mom fixing it up for a song—it was all bull. The failing fanmotors she talked about were happening to GMCs at that time, not Fords. Even if Sarahdidhave a broken fan engine and evenifshe had to come to Mom’s shop, those repairs aren’t quick and they aren’t cheap, however much Mom liked to run a fair deal.”
