River of Bones Dan Padavona (amazing books to read .TXT) 📖

“Sure, it wasn’t. Everyone who attends the Magnolia Dance ends up punking his ex’s new boyfriend.”

Chelsey attended the dance with Ray Welch, a heavy drinker who’d bullied Thomas during high school.

“You’re twisting the facts, Aguilar. Ray Welch attacked me. As I recall, he said unkind words about you.”

“So you defended my honor?”

Thomas laughed.

“More like I subdued him before you kicked his teeth in.”

“That’s more like it.”

Thomas turned the cruiser onto the highway. The sign read four miles to Kane Grove.

“I miss this.”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

“The two of us being friends, not just coworkers.” When she didn’t reply, he looked at her. “Just because I’m sheriff doesn’t mean things need to change between us. Lambert doesn’t treat me differently.”

“You trust Lambert’s judgment? He’s the one who convinced us to attend the dance.”

“Good point.”

Thomas pulled the cruiser into the bed-and-breakfast’s parking lot. The Orange Tulip was a sprawling three-story Colonial Revival home, painted in powder blue. The Nightshade River weaved through the countryside a hundred yards beyond the property, and a railed deck along the back offered a water view. Vehicles with license plates from all over the northeast choked the parking lot.

The manager’s office resided inside an addition on the east side of the property. Thomas held the door open for Aguilar, who appeared ready to punch him if he performed another act of chivalry. Gene Maldonado, the Orange Tulip’s manager, was a portly man with a soft chin. He had a snobbish habit of looking down his nose.

“You must be the sheriff who keeps calling me,” Maldonado said, typing at his computer terminal as he avoided eye contact.

“Good afternoon. I’m Sheriff Shepherd, and this is Deputy Aguilar. We’d like to see Justine Adkins’s room.”

He sniffed.

“Do you have a warrant?”

“I can get one. But that will take time, which I don’t have.”

“Is Ms. Adkins in peril, Sheriff?”

“She’s missing, yes.”

Maldonado printed a sheet of paper and slapped it on the table.

“This is the amount Ms. Adkins owes me,” he said, tapping a fat finger on the sheet. The balance read three-hundred dollars. “She paid for the first night up front. We bill the balance to our guests’ credit cards upon checkout.”

“Are you suggesting she checked out without paying?”

“Her belongings are still in her room. If she wants them back, she must pay.”

Aguilar set her arm on the counter and asked, “How do you know her belongings are still in her room?” Flustered, Maldonado returned to his keyboard. “Is it standard protocol to enter your guests’ rooms while they are away?”

Maldonado cleared his throat.

“After her car vanished from the parking lot, I feared she’d run off without clearing her balance. I had no choice.”

Thomas met Aguilar’s eyes. How often did the manager slip into rooms?

“We’d like to see her room now,” Thomas said.

The manager plucked a key out of his desk.

“You’re persistent. I’ll give you that. Follow me.”

Maldonado locked the office behind him and led them up a wooden staircase with a polished banister. Four doors stood on the second floor. He knocked on the third door, a courtesy Thomas doubted Maldonado afforded Justine Adkins before he sneaked into her room.

The quaint room was an odd mix of old world charm and modern conveniences, the antique dresser clashing with the flat screen television mounted on the wall. Glass double doors opened to a balcony overlooking the grounds and the Nightshade River.

“I’ll leave you alone,” Maldonado said, edging out of the room.

Aguilar closed the door in his face without replying.

A leather travel bag lay open on a made bed. Thomas and Aguilar donned gloves before touching anything. He aimed a flashlight inside. The bag held two changes of clothes, suggesting the woman intended to check out the following morning. There was a toothbrush, deodorant, and floss. As Thomas pawed through the bag, Aguilar opened the dresser drawers.

“I never want to visit a hotel again,” Aguilar said.

“Why is that?”

“I wonder how often that happens. Hotel staff entering your room while you’re out and looking through your belongings. Creepy.”

“I doubt it happens often. What do you think of Maldonado?”

Aguilar closed the drawer.

“I wouldn’t want him in my room. But he’s too pretentious to abduct someone.”

“Is that a rule? Kidnappers can’t be snobs?”

She thought for a moment and shook her head.

“I can’t picture Maldonado kidnapping Justine Adkins. What’s his motivation?”

“What was Norman Bates’s motivation?”

“Touché. Perhaps we should investigate Maldonado’s mother.”

Thomas spoke into the radio on his shoulder.

“Lambert, you there?”

“I’m right here, Sheriff,” Lambert said over the radio.

“Find everything you can on Gene Maldonado, the manager of the Orange Tulip in Kane Grove.”

“I’m on it.”

“And after, cruise past Paige Sutton’s residence in Wolf Lake before she vanishes too.”

Aguilar and Thomas searched the room for any clue that would lead them to Justine Adkins. The path led to a dead end before Thomas felt something in the side compartment of Justine’s travel bag. Unzipping the compartment, he fished two items out of hiding. The first was a folded receipt from a Wolf Lake florist. Who would Justine purchase flowers for?

The second hidden item made Thomas pause.

He picked up the beaded friendship bracelet.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Friday, August 13th

3:20 p.m.

Thunder groaned beyond the hills, as a black mass crossed the sky and blotted out the sunny afternoon. Scout gave a wary glance through the guest house window when the wind picked up, churning the lake.

She typed at the keyboard, ignoring the building storm. Thunder made her edgy. The deafening crescendos sounded too much like the crash that left her paralyzed from the waist down. Beside her, LeVar fiddled with his phone.

“I thought you wanted to help with this investigation.”

He set the phone in his lap.

“I am helping.”

“Ever since Anthony called, your head hasn’t been in the game.”

“Easy now, Ma.” He turned the phone off and set it on the card table. “There. Happy now?”

“Don’t call me Ma. If I want to son you, you’ll know.”

He leaned his head back and laughed.

“Aight, Scout. You don’t gotta do me like that.” He nodded at the screen. “This that alumni