Had she not just reported a murder, I would have left with no more questions asked, but we didn’t have that luxury. We had to investigate her claims to make sense of them, and we had to act like nothing was wrong if we wanted the Amhersts to incriminate themselves.
Forget cultivating them as witnesses. Thanks to Colby, we had found our killers.
Abandoning me, she glided onto the bed and wrapped herself in the green blanket Asa had knit her.
“We have to go downstairs.” I slammed the window shut. “It will look suspicious otherwise.”
“I’ll stay with you.” Asa sat beside Colby. “No one is going to hurt you.”
Snuggling against his hip, she buried herself in her blanket, breaking my heart clean down the middle.
“We’ll be back as soon as we can,” I told her, then warned Asa, “Keep an eye out and your phone close.”
“Be careful.” He stroked her back. “Make your excuses and break away if anything is suspect.”
“Come on.” Clay picked up the wig boxes I hadn’t noticed him set down. “I hear voices.”
Out in the hall, the door shut behind us, I regained my composure and watched Clay do the same.
Voices drifted up the stairs as Markus and Trinity talked about dinner, some movie, random kid things.
Certain they weren’t going to confess to murder where they might be overheard, we started down.
“Business is slow this week.” Trinity rounded the check-in counter. “We may need to advertise—”
“Hey.” Markus cut her off with a grin that looked natural, not forced. “Are those the wigs?”
“They are indeed.” Clay clutched them to his chest when Trinity swooped in. “But first, would you like to join us for linner? We had ice cream in town, but we’re starving. You do have pizza delivery here, right?”
Ah, linner. The meal between lunch and dinner. One of his favorite excuses to sneak in an extra meal. He wouldn’t hear me complain. I enjoyed the ice cream, but my belly was convinced I had room for more.
“That would be awesome.” Markus stole a notepad off the counter. “Give me your order, and I’ll call down to Marco’s. They can charge it to us, and we’ll add it to your tab.”
“Sounds good.” Clay rattled off our usuals then glanced around. “Where do you want to do this?”
“This way.” Trinity indicated for us to follow. “My craft room is back here.”
The room was narrow but long. Plenty of space for a crafter. Based on the dated bolts of fabrics hung on the wall, I figured she took it over after her grandmother passed and had yet to clear out the reminders. A table had been built across the rear wall. A yellowed sewing machine took pride of place, but hairclips, wigs, and shears littered the remaining surface. The floor would have been at home in a barber shop. One that didn’t require sweeping between customers. Like, ever.
Clearly, she enjoyed the creative process more than the tidying up afterward.
“Let me clean a space.” She flipped on several longneck lamps. “I don’t want to get them grubby.”
This kid showed zero signs of remorse for what she helped do, and no fear of getting caught either.
“Will your parents mind if we feed you?” I leaned against the wall. “Should we ask permission first?”
We really needed to feel them out, decide if they had any idea what their kids were up to in the woods.
“We’re not supposed to tell anyone.” She paused in her tidying. “Since you’re FBI, it should be okay.”
To draw her eye, Clay shifted the boxes in a subtle prompt to get on with it before she got distracted.
“They’re not here,” she explained. “They left Markus and me in charge until they get back.”
“Where did they go?” I kept it light. “A romantic weekend getaway?”
“No.” She measured me. “They’re settling the insurance claim on the Waffle Iron.”