Page 95 of Jack
He held up a hand. “I’m not withholding anything. It’s just a little . . . fishy.” He glanced at the lake and back. “Where’s the victim’s car?”
She, too, looked around the lot.
“You talk to the motel clerk?”
“Yes. The deceased checked in Tuesday night, spent the night, and no sighting of him after that. The clerk said that Wednesday morning she saw that his car was gone, so she charged him for the night and thought he’d left. The cleaning service came in this morning. In the winter, they come every Friday, in case there are weekend motorists.”
“So, his car was gone by Wednesday. What kind of car?”
She gave him a look.
“I’m just trying to help. Listen, there’s a woman missing, a shooting, and a murder in this very small town on the very week that Boo Kingston is marrying a country-music superstar. You don’t think that’s a little worrisome?”
Her mouth tightened. “Yes. Fine. Sheriff Davidson is aware of this. He’s already met with the security team for the event. He’s probably with them now?—”
“Who’s the victim, Jenna?” Harper, her voice sharp. “Please.”
Jenna looked at Harper. “You back for good?”
“No.”
Jenna nodded. Glanced inside, then back at Jack. “Okay. The news will pick it up later today anyway. According to the front desk, his name is Kyle Brunley, from Minneapolis.”
Jack tried not to stiffen, not to let the name find his solar plexus. Maybe he’d been expecting it, just a little. Still, he let a beat pass, then another.
Jenna frowned. “You know him?”
“No.”
“Yes,” Harper said on a wisp of breath. “He was last seen meeting with Penelope at Echoes Vinyl Café.”
Jenna looked at Jack, almost accusingly.
“I don’t know that that was the last known sighting of him,” Jack said. “But yes, I think he came to town to meet her.”
“Why?”
“He was a suspect in her murder-podcast case.” And now his breath returned to him, along with a dark swirl deep in his chest. He reached out and found Harper’s hand. “Any idea of when he might have been murdered?”
“Hard to say.”
“Could it have been Tuesday night?”
“No way to tell. He’s . . . there’s not much left.”
“Okay, that’s it.” He turned and practically pulled Harper away from the crime scene, into the parking lot. Stein and Conrad, who stood sentry behind him, parted, then followed like Dobermans.
Good. He’d need them to wrestle her into the car. “You’re going back to the inn.”
She yanked out of his grip. “Have you lost your mind? Maybe you haven’t caught on yet, but you’re not the boss of me. In fact, youworkfor me.”
“No, I don’t, and yes, I am the boss of you. Starting right now.”
“No—”
“Yes,” Conrad said.
She tried to level him with a look. Good thing Conrad knew how to take a hit.