Page 94 of Jack

“So yeah. He had a few other rides, mostly from town. One from an apartment complex to a church, another from the market out to the Duck Lake Motor Lodge. That was Tuesday night before he picked up Penelope.”

Aw. Now acid filled his chest.

“His final ride ended at the supper club.”

“In every sense of the term.”

She made a sound of agreement.

He’d reached the highway that circled the south end of the lake, driving past the Moonlight Supperclub on the way to the boat ramp. “Any other calls or texts?”

“That’s it. How’s he doing?”

“I don’t know. Thanks, Coco.”

“Anytime. Any cousin of Ranger’s is a friend of mine.”

“Thanks.” Then he hung up.

“The motor lodge is right down the road from the supper club,” Harper said.

“Yep.” His mouth pinched at the edges.

“What if the killer called him to pick him up and drive him to the supper club, and then he pulled up, saw Penelope, and . . . what?”

“You saw the tape. She leaned down and opened the door, no coercion.”

“As if she knew the guy in the car?”

“Maybe. Or maybe she just trusted Ty.”

They’d reached the entrance to the motor lodge, a painted wooden sign out front next to a giant carved duck. The long timber building was filled with one-unit rooms with outside doors, recently updated by the look of the new windows, the lighting along the edge of the roof, the Adirondack chairs on the shoveled porch.

Above the blackened unit, smoke still scattered in the sky. A fire engine was parked out front, hoses trailing into the charred open door. Two cruisers from the local sheriff’s office and a coroner’s van were parked outside, a body on a yellow board, covered in a tarp.

Jack spotted Jenna outside the room, talking with another deputy.

“I can’t seem to escape that woman,” Harper said under her breath.

Jenna clearly felt the same, because she shook her head as Jack and Harper crossed the parking lot toward her. Behind them, Conrad and Stein rolled in—their backup, apparently. They lumbered up as Jack stood at the edge of the crime-scene tape.

“What are you doing here, Jack?” Jenna said, casting him a look.

What, no flirty smile?

“Who’s the vic?”

Jenna shook her head.

“C’mon. We’re still on the hunt for Harper’s friend, and . . .” He turned, his hands in his pockets, spotted the landing just across the street. More crime-scene tape flapping in the wind. He turned back. “Was this arson?”

“Too early to tell. Fire chief thinks it was slow-burning—might have started from a space heater that shorted.”

“That’s not what my gut says.”

“Then your gut needs to spill.” She stepped up. “What aren’t you telling me?”

And just like that, he was face-to-face in his memory with Sheriff Wade as they wheeled Tansy into an ambulance.“This is on you.”