Page 49 of Stay Buried

“H-how—” she stammered. Did she dare hope that this man had known her mother?

“Jack St. James,” he said, looking down at them. “I own the motel. My wife, Liz, told me you’d checked in.”

“Hi there! Malcolm Flanders,” Mal said, standing up and putting out his hand. Jack looked at his hand, then took it and gave it an unenthusiastic shake.

“I’m afraid my wife made a mistake,” Jack said.

“Oh?” Ash leaned back in her seat, not breaking eye contact with him.

“We aren’t supposed to be accepting guests right now.”

“Why’s that?” Mal asked.

“The heat’s out.”

“I think we’ll be okay,” Mal said congenially. “We’ve got blankets and the bedspreads. And Ash and I, we’re used to camping out. We can rough it without heat for a couple of nights.”

“Wiring’s iffy too,” Jack added. “Haven’t had a chance to have it fixed. Might not be safe.” The words hung in the air a moment.

Ash took in a breath. “Seeing as we already paid for two rooms for two nights, I think we’ll take our chances, if that’s okay.”

He seemed to consider, then nodded. “Suit yourself,” he said. He turned and went back to his table.

“Way to run a business,” Mal whispered to Ash. “Trying to kick out your only two customers?”

Ash shook off the chill she felt—not from the draft coming in through the door and windows, but from the man’s obvious warning:Might not be safe.

The waitress came back and dropped off two beers. She set the mugs down hard, the glass clacking against the table, the beer spilling over, then turned and walked away without a word.

Mal picked up his glass and Ashley clinked hers against his. “To the warm hospitality of Boone’s Ferry,” he said with a mischievous grin.

“May it comfort us through the cold nights at Deer Run,” she added.

They took long sips of their beers.

“I still can’t believe Endicott’s house has been in the family all this time.” Mal was rolling up his napkin now. “That Gram never mentioned it.”

“Yeah, I still can’t get my head around it,” Ash admitted.

“Kind of makes you wonder, huh?” Mal said. “I mean, what else wasn’t she telling us?”

Ash thought of her mother’s letter:I came here to find the truth that you’ve worked so hard to hide from me.

“So where is it again?” Malcolm asked, setting down his mug. “The house?”

“Right on Main Street. Number 84.”

“We must have driven right by it on the way in! Did you see it? Did you notice?”

Ashley shook her head. “I was too busy trying to navigate.”

“Let’s go take a look. Right after dinner,” he said. “We can knock on the door, meet this Josephine Banks lady.”

“Let’s do it.” She tried to sound confident. This was why she’d come after all, wasn’t it?

So why did she feel such a sense of dread, her whole body thrumming, telling her to get out of town?

She kept scanning the tavern, searching the shadows, half expecting her bloodied mother to be there in the corner, watching. But the only ones watching were the four men, who kept looking their way but pretending not to.